This was her destiny. Clean Lake Ontario of all its glass. A good occupation. A safe one. Wasn’t this safe? Just her and the churning body of water, dumb and constant. No designs, no lies.

She laughed, a high-pitched trill.

The sound jarred her. She was shaking, gasping. She squeezed her eyes shut, willfully slowed her breathing. She needed to stop thinking. Stop thinking.

Then she stopped altogether. Not to calm down or bend and collect, but to listen. Beyond the water’s hollow roar, under the screech of gulls, along with the hum of wind—a human sound, a swelling holler. She turned, just as a shouting child reached her.

The girl stormed Maggie. Not a hug. A tackle. They staggered together into the water. She was barefooted, brown-skinned, black-haired, and small enough that her barreling, as measured on Maggie, was only a hip-high collision. She laughed and yelled, “Got you!”

Startled, Maggie grabbed the child’s elbows to steady them both and scanned the shore.

Aunt Wren’s assistant, Sam, was scowling at the rutted drive. He gripped his hair, then strode across the beach.

The girl bounded over to him. “Daddy!”

He caught and hugged the child without looking at her. Maggie raised a hand in a halfhearted wave and began to sidle out of the way, but his expression gave her pause. “Everything all right?”

He shook his head. “Where’s Wren?”

“Out for lunch with my mom. I think they’re going to the Memorial Art Gallery afterward.”

“Fuck.” He glared at the lake. When the girl squirmed, he set her down but took her hand. His troubled gaze focused on Maggie as if he were finally registering who she was. “I—I need some help.” He plowed a hand through his hair. “Can you help me with Kate? For, like, just an hour?”

Kate slipped out of his hold and ran for the water.

“You want me to watch her?” Maggie asked.

He nodded impatiently.

She looked over her shoulder. Kate jumped into the swell of a wave, soaking herself to the waist. Five years old, Maggie guessed. She swallowed. “She doesn’t know me.” I am not a good choice for a babysitter. “Won’t she be scared?”

He grunted. “She’s not scared of anything.” When Kate flew back to him, he sat on his haunches and loosely held her in place. “Hey, sweets, give me a kiss good-bye.”

The child’s smile disappeared. “You said you’d play with me.”

“I said I’d take you outside. I have to go somewhere for a little while.”

“Can I go, too?”

He shook his head. “I’ll be back real soon. Want to play on the beach with Wren’s niece? Want to play with—” He glanced up.

“Maggie.”

“With Maggie here?”

Her expression said no. But she answered, “Okay.”