“Oh, come on.” He nudged Michael and laughed as if they were at a bar, joking around. “Lighten up, sport. I helped you get this job, you know. I’m not out to get you. I know what it’s like to need to earn your own keep. Those new parents of yours, they did a great thing for you, and you know it never hurts to claim another dependent come tax time.”

“What?”

“Big deduction. I’m sure they care about you, but don’t forget that they get something out of the deal, too.”

It never occurred to Michael that the Gordons could have selfish reasons for adopting him.

“We’re the kind of people who like to pay our own way in life. Let me give you some advice, Michael: never turn down an opportunity to make an honest buck. I’ve got plenty of work for you to do here. I told Jason that I can keep you busy all summer long.”

All summer? Michael hadn’t even started and already he wanted to quit. This guy wasn’t worth the shitty pay Jason offered him. But then he thought of Ann. He thought of her smile and the way the sunlight glinted off her hair, and the way she’d asked him to take this job. He’d do it, mostly because he didn’t want to leave her alone with this guy.

TEN

Poppy

One thing Kit didn’t teach Poppy soon enough was that you never dropped in on another surfer’s wave—especially a local’s. That’s what she did one morning. The surfer didn’t see her coming. When they got to shore he popped up and she joined him. He was older, maybe even as old as her dad. He lifted his arm to reveal a gash across his torso. He’d been sliced by her fin.

“Look what you did.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”

“You didn’t pay attention to what the hell you were doing. You should be sorry. Hurts like hell, you stupid washashore.” He inspected the gash. It was clean-looking, at least. “You people, you and your little friends, you think you own everything. Go back to Manhattan.”

“I’m not from Manhattan.”

“OK, Connecticut.”

“Wisconsin.”

When Poppy told Kit she was from Wisconsin it was a joke, but somehow this revelation redeemed her in the leather-skinned surfer’s eyes. “You a Packers fan?”

“Of course.”

“Super Bowl champs! How about that? The green and gold. Nothing but Patriots fans out here. Tired of ’em. I’m Dirk.”

“Poppy.”

He slapped some seaweed on his cut and swore when the salt stung.

“Takes years to learn to surf. Years and years. You’re off to a good start. I watched you. You’ve got good balance and you’re quick. Watchful. And you’re a girl. Not a lot of girls out here.”

“I noticed.”