Maisy loved to helm dinner, with Bea as her occasional sous-chef. Each of Maisy’s summer days passed in a Groundhog Day–flavored loop. What happened was that Maisy would rouse around eleven, waiting out the siesta with some light Mary Kay work and Sex and the City DVDs. As the gal pals clinked their Cosmos on the screen, Maisy would nurse in unity her own drink or, as Joey suspected, by the culmination of the day’s reruns, her own four or five. Then, once the shops reopened, Maisy would spend hours perusing and considering. Giorgios had the best seafood. Polermos for cheese. Ionna for baklava. After unloading all her spoils, Maisy would pour herself a tumbler and set to work on the night’s feast. Coq au vin. Beef bourguignon. Sometimes she’d tackle a Greek specialty like spanakopita or pastitsada or cheese souvlaki with a drizzle of thyme honey. The latter was Leo’s favorite. Joey pictured him saying, Are you sure you want another piece, Jonesey? The honey tastes off tonight.

Down by the water, the clock tower began to chime. Sometimes it chimed once, sometimes eleven times, sometimes an incessant series where you had to stop counting because the chimes were going too fast and berserk. Clock tower guy forgot his meds today, was their common refrain.

Joey and Maisy counted together up to five. They laughed.

Maisy leaned over to check on one of her new plants. The Winns had arrived in town a few days before the Abrams family because Joey’s father had an important meeting that couldn’t be pushed, and in the interim, Maisy had adorned the terrace in terra-cotta planters. She’d announced that gardening was her new hobby, with her aim to grow ingredients for the families’ meals.

The breeze played in the pleats of Maisy’s black dress. “This one’s gonna be basil.”

“Ooh. Yum. I like what you’ve done, Mais.” Joey gestured to the pots. “It makes it even prettier out here.”

Maisy smiled. “I thought it would be nice. I love plants.”

“That must be where Leo gets his obsession from.”

“Oh! That’s funny. Didn’t ever put it together. Genetics, huh?”

Joey laughed. Her mind flickered with the conversation she and Leo had eavesdropped upon the summer prior, but she pushed that memory back down.

“My garden in Michigan is where I do my praying, so I thought I’d make one here too.”

“Praying? Like to God?” Joey was surprised. It seemed a little off-brand for Maisy, with her pert nipples shimmering through her slip dress, that Joey was trying to avoid looking at, and her penchant for a couple of drinks too many.

Maisy nodded vaguely. “Where’s Leo, by the way?”