He moves right past me and into the kitchen. “Well, I saw inside that fridge of yours yesterday.” I follow behind him and watch as he makes himself at home—putting away the beer and unpacking the food. “I also wanted to make up for dumping all that shit on you.” He leans against the counter and looks at me, his eyes once again full of apology.

I wave a hand at him dismissively. “I asked you to come over, remember? I wanted to know more about the newspaper articles. And it’s better I find out now than never.”

He cocks his head to one side. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” I say, with a firmness I don’t actually feel. “But more importantly, do you ever wear shoes?” I point at his feet, which are once again bare, hoping to change the conversation to lighter things.

He shrugs. “Why would I when I’m in and out of a boat constantly?”

“That’s the Ezra logic I remember.”

He glares at me but then laughs and goes to the fridge. “Would you like a beer, my dear?” He grabs two and holds one out to me. I take it, and we both twist our caps off. “These are from a local brewery,” he says, taking a sip.

I do the same and am pleasantly surprised. “It’s good.”

“Yes, June Bennett, we do have things to offer up here. There are many reasons to stay for the summer.”

“That’s handy, because I wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.”

He reaches out and clinks his bottle against mine. “Good to hear.” His words and the way he looks at me make my stomach twist with excitement. I take another sip of beer to wash it away, but it’s pretty persistent.

“So how about that dinner?” I say, trying to direct my mind to utilitarian matters only. “Am I helping with this, or shall I sit and watch?”

He points to the kitchen table. “You sit there and keep me company.” For once I’m happy to do as I’m told.

Ezra goes out back and manages to get the barbecue grill standing again. He finds charcoal in the storage room and in no time has it cleaned off and lit. While he waits for it to heat up, he starts on the salad. I sit there and drink beer and watch him. He seems to know the cottage well, which makes me wonder if he might know about other things on the rest of the island.

“Do you know anything about a clearing in the forest on the other side of the island?”

He stops cutting the red onion and gives me a confused look. “A clearing in the woods? Nope, can’t recall it. I only ever pull up to the dock. Haven’t been to that side since we were kids.”