“Mmm. And what about romance?” He pointed to the bunk on the opposite side of the table. “We’re roomies, you know.”

“Sorry, romance is out of the question. I’m not into romance. You’re very tempting, but I took a vow.”

He pulled some onions out of a vegetable bin behind the ladder. “This is going to ruin my image. And my self-esteem is shot to hell.”

“Life is cruel,” Stephanie said, counting out twelve cups of flour. She looked around the small galley. “Where’s the butter?”

“Ice chest’s on deck.”

She wiped her hands on her shorts and gave him a thumbs-up sign, deciding he was a good guy-a little weird, maybe, but not mean.

She went topside and discovered they were almost out of Camden Harbor. She’d watched the schooners come and go over the past two months, usually from an upstairs window or from the widow’s walk on the top of her house. The big wooden boats were eerily quiet for their size. Not having the power of an inboard motor, Ivan relied on a yawl to move them through the flotilla of pleasure craft into open sea, where the sails could be unfurled.

The rigging creaked and clanked in the breeze, and the town of Camden looked very small, hugging the waterline, the steeple of the Chestnut Street Baptist Church sparkling in the morning sun. From this distance the mountains seemed to push against the town’s back. Wisps of fog caught in the treetops on Mt. Battie, and Stephanie could see patches of yellow, orange, and red, where autumn leaves had already begun to turn. A gull rode a clanging buoy, oblivious to the noise. Passengers sat topside, watching the gull, watching Ivan at the helm, waiting for the sails to go up. And in an hour they’ll be waiting for lunch, Stephanie thought with a groan.

Ace smiled at her when she returned to the galley with the butter. “I was afraid you’d gone overboard.”

“No. Just took a minute to enjoy the scenery.” She peeked into the steaming brew on the stove. “What is this?”