“What did you expect me to do?” she had asked. “Go out there after him? I have two children to raise and a real estate business to manage and a husband, and I’m the chairperson of the Junior League drive for canned goods for the starving peasants of Guatemala. I have responsibilities, Serena! I can’t just jump in a boat and go out there! Not that he would ever listen to a word I have to say anyway. And you can’t expect Mason to go out there. You know how beastly Gifford is to him. I’m just at my wit’s end trying to deal with him. You’re the psychologist. You go out there and talk some sense into that hard head of his.”

Go out there. Into the swamp. Serena’s blood had run cold at the suggestion. It ran cold now at the thought. But she was just angry enough and stubborn enough to get past her fear for the moment. She had stormed from the house to go in search of a guide without even bothering to change her clothes. She wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on her fear. She had to see her grandfather and there was only one way to do that. She had to go out into the one place she thought of as hell on earth, and the only man available to take her had just walked away.

Serena rushed after Lucky Doucet, struggling to hurry in her narrow skirt and shoes that had not been intended for walking on rough planking. The midday sun was blinding as she stepped out onto the dock. The stench of dirty water and gasoline hung in the thick, still air. Lucky stood at the open door to the workshop.

“We haven’t discussed your fee,” Serena said, ignoring the possibility that he had changed his mind about taking her. She struggled for an even breath as she faced his chest.

He looked down his nose at her with an expression that suggested she had just insulted his mother. “I have no need of your money,” he said contemptuously.

Serena rolled her eyes and lifted her hands in a gesture of exasperated surrender. “Pardon me for thinking you might like an honest wage for an honest job. How bourgeois of me.”