Gamay was sipping her beer, admiring the fly-specked ceiling, the torn-fishnet-and-weathered-lobster-buoy decorations on the wall, when the man sitting at the bar slid off his stool. Apparently, he had taken the sight of an attractive woman drinking alone in a bar at mid- day as an invitation. He sidled over with a beer bottle in his hand and ran his eyes over Camay's red hair and lithe, athletic body. Unable to see her wedding ring because her left hand was resting on her knee, he figured Gamay was fair game.

“Good mornin', ” he said, with an amiable smile. "Mind if I join you.

Gamay wasn't put off by the direct approach. She moved well among men because she had a talent for thinking like they do. With her tall, slim figure and long, swirled-up hair, it was hard to believe that Gamay had been a tomboy, running with a gang of boys, build- ing tree houses, playing baseball in the streets of Racine. She was an expert marksman as well, thanks to her father, who'd taught her to shoot skeet.

'Be my guest,“ Gamay said casually, and waved him into a chair. 'My name's Mike Neal,” he said. Neal was in his forties. He was dressed in work clothes and wore shin-high black rubber boots. With his dark, rugged profile and thick, black hair, Neal would have had classic good looks if not for a weakness around the mouth and a ruby nose colored by too much booze. “You sound American.” “I am.” She extended her hand and introduced herself. “Pretty name,” Neal said, impressed by the firmness of Gamay's grip. Like the general store cashier, he said, “Just passing through?”

Gamay nodded. “I've always wanted to see the Maritime Provinces. Are you a fisherman?”

“Yep.” He pointed out the window and, with unrestrained pride, said, "That's my beauty over there at the boatyard dock. The Tiffany.

Named her after my old girlfriend. We broke up last year, but it's bad luck to change the name of a boat."

“Are you taking a day off from fishing?”

“Not exactly. Boat shop did some work on my engine. They won't release Tiffany until I pay them. Afraid I'd take off without paying.”

“Would you?”

He smirked. “I stung them for a few bucks before.” “Still, that seems shortsighted on their part. With your boat, you could go fishing and earn the money to pay them back.”

Neal's smile dissolved into a frown. “I could if there were fish to sell.”

“Someone at the general store mentioned that the fishing was bad.”

“Worse than bad. Rest of the fleet has moved up the coast. Some of the guys come home between trips to see family.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“ 'Bout six months.”

“Any idea what's causing the drought?”