Ryan made a move for his towel and toothbrush.

Poppy said, “You want eggs and sausage and toast?”

“Please and thank you,” Ryan said over his shoulder.

Back in the kitchen, Poppy and John loaded the dishwasher. John commented to Lisa how much he had enjoyed the coffee, and Poppy, who only ever made instant at home, acted offended. Lisa said she had been getting her coffee from the same organic beanery in their area for years—she was hooked on the stuff, convinced it was the best around. The guy who ran the beanery had lived in Maui and worked on a coffee plantation for ten years.

From across the room, Scott piped up, “Guy’s a con artist. I saw him at Walmart once with a whole cartful of Folgers.”

Poppy said, “Really?”

Lisa giggled. “Scott likes to give me grief about my organic this-or-that.” She seemed genuinely amused by Scott’s accusation, and it pleased Poppy to see the two of them bantering good-naturedly this morning.

Together they talked over their plans for the day.

John and Alex would leave soon for the bait shop, then head directly to the pier out by Pritchards Island, where Barry, from the golf course, had talked up the fishing. Lisa and her girls planned to check out an art gallery when the place opened at ten, then make their way down to the beach. Poppy and Ryan would go to the beach first thing—both were eager for a swim.

Scott was just announcing that he might come to the beach for a few hours, then go to the driving range after lunch, when the house phone rang.

Poppy startled and leapt to answer it, but Scott was closer and got there first.

Scott was cheery and familiar with the caller, offering an occasional “Sure thing!” and “You bet!” He glanced at others in the room as he carried on the conversation.

When the call ended, Lisa said, “Who was that?”

Scott explained that yesterday he had exchanged phone numbers with the guys he met on the golf course, and one of them was calling to invite him to join their round of golf.

Lisa said, “Fine by me.”

Poppy said, “Fine by me.”

Scott looked around the room. “No one’s gonna beg me not to go? Really? Well, then I guess I’ll go.”

Rae said irritably, “Why don’t you quit talking about it and just go, then.”

Kimmy sang, “Go away, Daddy! Shoo-shoo, fly away!”

Scott said, “You girls are harsh.” He threw a balled-up napkin across the room at his daughters. Rae ignored it completely. Kimmy picked up the napkin, tightened it between her palms, and hurled it back.

Scott put it in the garbage, then went to his room to gather his things.

9

ALEX’S WILLINGNESS TO bait her own hook and the technique she employed had always impressed John. He recalled his own squeamishness when he was a kid, didn’t reckon he’d done it himself until he was in his early teens. That was around the time he had started hunting with his own father, too. John had cried when he made his first kill, a squirrel with a .22, and his father told him it was OK, that if you didn’t feel something the first time, there was probably something wrong with your head.