No, he was potentially abrasive and possibly an island snob. She couldn’t.

Then she saw him reach a cautious hand out to pet Pickles. Okay, maybe he was trying. And he had been so sad the last two times she’d seen him. Maybe he was a good guy in a bad situation, a guy who deserved a break.

Her mother said Joy always saw the good in people who didn’t deserve it. But didn’t that mean she sometimes also saw the good in people who did?

She made up her mind. “Are you free for dinner tonight?” she asked. “I’m making a pasta puttanesca with a broken artichoke heart salad. I’ve already bought the ingredients, and now my daughter isn’t going to be home. It’s too much for one person, and I wouldn’t mind some company. I promise I’m not creepy or pathetic. I just don’t like to waste good food.”

He eyed her warily at first and she regretted her question almost instantly. How many times did she need to be turned down by a grump in a gray T-shirt before she got the message? But just as she was starting to say, Never mind, forget it, his face opened up and he smiled. “Sure,” he said. “Sure, that sounds delicious. I’d really like that.”

She felt her insides relax. “You would?”

“I would.”

“You have a bike?”

“Yes. There’s one in the garage of the place I’m staying in.”

“Great. You can ride it over. It’s not far. Hopefully the bike is in better shape than the car.”

“Here’s hoping.” The smile really did transform his face.

She turned in where her passenger indicated and pulled up the long driveway. The cottage was set back, not far from the water. It was a shabby little place but the location was killer. She could see where a path from the house connected to one of the main trails down to Scotch Beach. “How long are you staying here?” she asked.

“Up in the air,” he said.

“I see.” This was unusual: most rentals had a start date and an end date. “Are you here alone?”

“Definitely alone,” he said. “Most definitely. My wife, ah—she couldn’t join me.”

Wife. Married. She deflated, recalculated. Maybe it wasn’t worth the artichokes after all. Not that she’d been planning to jump him. But it seemed inappropriate, to invite another woman’s husband to dinner, a stranger at that. She glanced quickly at his hands. No ring, just as she’d thought. Well, not all men wore them. Dustin hadn’t.

“Where’s your wife?”

“At home, in Newton.”

“I see.” She didn’t.

“We’re— It’s complicated.” He stopped and wrinkled his nose. Then he said, “I guess we’re separated.”

“I see,” said Joy again, but what she was thinking was, You guess? Seemed like being pregnant, or drunk: you either were, or you weren’t. She turned off the Jeep. Outside the cottage next door she saw a pretty blond woman getting into a car with two little blond boys. One boy was holding a toy tow truck, driving it through the air. (Joy remembered when Maggie was young enough to drive things through the air—wasn’t it only yesterday?)