“What?” Max asked, confused.

“Getting taken like that.”

“Taken on a fun trip,” Anthony corrected, casting a warning look at Cassie.

“I wasn’t scared,” said Max staunchly. “I was with Grandma.”

Cassie’s gaze took in the swarm of people by the ferry, the crowded veranda of the National Hotel, the glimpse of Fred Benson Town Beach. It was a glorious summer day, the pick of the litter. She nodded slowly. Her smile was tight and insincere. “I see how it’s been,” she said. “While Max and I have been at home alone, you’ve been having yourself a vacation.”

“It wasn’t a vacation,” Anthony said.

“You even have better weather than we have at home. You know we’re getting a big storm, right? At home? Practically a hurricane. I had to move in all of the pillows on the outdoor furniture by myself.”

Anthony was sure Cassie was exaggerating. “I haven’t heard about any storm,” he said.

“Of course you haven’t. You’ve just been here, in your little island paradise, not worrying about the rest of the world. Aren’t you lucky. Well, for your information, coastal Massachusetts is supposed to get pummeled.”

“It was the only place I could go for free, Cassie! Fitzy’s uncle has a cottage—”

Cassie straightened and said, “Oh, Fitzy.” She said it like a curse word. Fitzy had been at their wedding; he hadn’t accorded himself very well. He’d left the heart of one of Cassie’s friends in shreds on the ground.

“I had no choice,” Anthony said.

“Well,” she said. “I wonder if Max is hungry. Are you hungry, sweetie?” Max nodded somberly. He was holding tightly to Anthony’s hand. Max’s hand was small and warm and certain, with an overlay of inoffensive childhood stickiness. It was a perfect hand. “Is there somewhere around here we can get some lunch?”

“Yes,” said Anthony. “Of course.” It was Block Island in the middle of summer: there were dozens of places to get lunch.

They went to Dead Eye Dick’s and sat on the deck overlooking Great Salt Pond. The harbor was lousy with boats and kayaks and Jet Skis and clammers and swimmers. You had to wonder how so many boats could move around safely in a relatively small space but they seemed to have it figured out, like dancers in a well-choreographed number.

“Should we share salt-and-pepper calamari to start?” Anthony suggested. It would have been a peace offering if calamari was something Cassie would eat.

Cassie shook her head. “Nothing fried.”

Anthony ordered a grilled fish sandwich with a side of fries and Cassie ordered a summer shrimp salad without the onions. Max ordered grilled cheese and a chocolate milk. Cassie said, “How about white milk?” and when Max said, “No, chocolate,” she sighed and flicked her hand: What did it matter?

“A drink?” suggested Cassie. She ran her forefinger up and down the cocktail menu. “The Summer Sunrise sounds good.”

“I haven’t been drinking,” said Anthony. The amber liquid in the decanter, and all the drinks that came after, had left him with a headache that remained for days.