I hang up and look at the lightning stone sitting on the floor. It took years to achieve its current state of beauty. It is streaked with history. It is hard on the outside, filled with a lifetime of deposits on the inside.

I pick it up and run my hands over it.

A lot like me, I think.

NINETEEN

“There she is.”

Scooter ushers me into the cavernous boat repair workroom of S.S. Boat Works. I gasp.

“Is she dead?” I ask.

“No,” Scooter says with a laugh. “She’s very much alive and kicking.”

Upon first glance, the Adie Lou looks as if she’s passed away and floating in the air, like a figure in a religious painting. The sun is shining directly into the repair room, and rays of light are splaying around the boat.

“I feel like I should kneel,” I say.

“Perhaps,” Scooter jokes. “Our work often makes boat owners genuflect.”

The Adie Lou is on a hoist in the middle of the room, workers underneath. I turn and look at Scooter. “I thought you said you had good news,” I say. “This looks like it’s going to cost me a lot of money that I don’t have.”

“That’s a fine thank-you,” Scooter says, walking toward my Chris-Craft. “Your dad took incredible care of this boat. Probably treated it better than he did his own body.”

I nod. “He loved this boat.”

“It shows,” Scooter says. “The hull needed a little love—got some nicks on it in storage I think—and I’d like to give it a new finish varnish.”

“It’s pretty shiny as it is,” I start to say, running numbers in my head.

“No charge,” Scooter says. “On me.”

“No,” I say. “No.”

“I insist.”

“I don’t like owing people,” I say, my voice rising.

I think of Nate and Sadie and of men calling the shots.

Scooter raises his hands as if he’s being taken hostage. “Okay, okay,” he says. “I was just trying to help. Isn’t that what friends do?”

Is it? I think.

My mind races to behind-the-scenes deals by so-called friends at my former company that were made at my expense. I think of all the hours I worked to help pay off my “best friend” Nate’s enormous student loan debts. I think of the neighbors in my former tony small town who offered to get me into country clubs, or Evan into the right prep school if...if...if...

And then I think of my friend Scooter, who defended the city girl in the small town again and again.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “Thank you.” I search for more words. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. “I just want the Adie Lou to be in tip-top shape for your first summer.” Scooter stops. “You know, if you’re busy and need a captain for sunset cruises, I’m available.”