Maia studies his expression. “You okay, Gramps? You in a bad mood again?”

He meant what he told Agent Vasco. He is determined to keep whatever Rosie was involved with away from Maia. She’s a twelve-year-old girl who wants to hang out with her friends. It’s a goddamned island. She’s safe here.

But really, he could use some help.

“I’m fine,” he says. He won’t smile because then Maia will know there’s something wrong, so he adopts the air of a weary chauffeur. “You guys can all hop in.”

Baker

He knows he shouldn’t be surprised that his brother came back down to St. John and, apparently, plans to make it his permanent home, sponging off Irene, but he is. He tells Cash as much, though instead of using the word sponging, he calls it “taking full advantage of Mom’s generosity.” It’s marginally kinder; after all, Floyd is listening.

“I’m not taking advantage any more than you are,” Cash says with what Baker can only assume is a phony smile. “And I found a job.”

“So soon?” Baker says. “Where?”

“First mate on Treasure Island,” Cash says.

First mate on Treasure Island? It takes Baker a second, but he puts it together. Treasure Island is the boat that Ayers works on.

“You have got to be”—he swallows the swearword because of Floyd—“kidding me.”

“Not kidding,” Cash says.

Not kidding; of course not kidding. Somehow Cash weaseled his way onto that boat and into near-daily interaction with Ayers.

“I didn’t realize you liked the water,” Baker says. “I thought you were more of a mountain guy.” He says this with relative equanimity. What he’s thinking is this: You hate water unless it’s frozen! You’re ten thousand feet out of your comfort zone! The only reason you’re here is to try and steal my girl! “How did you find out about the job, anyway?”

“Ayers texted me,” Cash says. He rubs Winnie under the chin. “Winnie and I just went for a hike and a swim with Ayers and Maia on the Johnny Horn Trail. It was beautiful, but man, was it hot. I was dreaming about this pool the whole way back.” Cash pries off his hiking boots and strips down to his swim trunks. Baker tries to look at his brother objectively. Cash is in good shape; he has six-pack abs and really strong legs from all the skiing, but he’s not quite six feet tall, so Baker has always discounted him as a possible rival. But now, Baker has all kinds of troubling thoughts. Maybe Ayers is into the short, stocky, and (admittedly) super-cut look as opposed to the tall, broad-shouldered, and (admittedly) dad-bod look. (Baker flexes his arm behind him to see if he still has triceps. Maybe; it’s hard to tell.) Cash went hiking and swimming with Ayers and Maia—he’s been the recipient of Ayers’s smile. It’s Baker’s fantasy.

He’s jealous.