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folded her arms across her chest. “Some people
    find out they’re expecting, they actually marry their baby’s father.”

    Oh, God. Regina’s stomach flipped. Like this day didn’t suck
    enough already. Her mother couldn’t be content with control of the
    restaurant, she wanted to run Regina’s life as well.

    “That doesn’t always work out, Ma.”

    Antonia glared. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

    Margred had abandoned wiping tables to listen.

    “You married Dad,” Regina said. “How many years did he stick
    around? Two? Three?”

    “At least you got your father’s name.”

    “And that’s all I got. You did everything. Paid for everything. He
    never even sent child support.”

    “Oh, and you did so much better with the Greedy Gourmet.”

    Frustration closed Regina’s throat. She had never been able to talk
    with her mother. They were like oil and vinegar, too different to ever
    really understand one another.

    Or maybe they were too much alike.

    “I wasn’t—” She worried the crucifix around her neck, running it
    back and forth along the chain. “I’m trying to tell you I appreciate—”

    “He loved us. Your father. Not everybody is suited for island life,
    you know.”

    38

    “I know. Jesus.” Did they have to exhume every skeleton in the
    family closet just because Jane Ivey liked Regina’s crab cakes better than
    her mother’s lasagna? “I’d leave myself if I could.”

    The words hung on the air, thick as the grease smell from the fryer.
    The hurt on Antonia’s face registered like a slap.

    Regina bit her tongue. Crap.

    “I am not pregnant,” Margred said.

    Antonia rounded on her. “What?”

    “You wanted to know. I would like a baby. But I am not pregnant
    yet.”

    “You want a baby?” Regina repeated. Remembering her own
    pregnancy with Nick, when she was sick all the time and tired and alone.
    “You just got married.”

    Antonia snorted. “Married, hell. They only met six weeks ago.”

    Margred arched her eyebrows. “I was not aware of a time
    requirement. How long must you know someone before you can get
    pregnant?”

    Memory swamped Regina: Dylan, plunging thick and hot inside her,
    filling her, stretching her. Her own voice panting, “I could get pregnant!”

    Her stomach dived. Oh, God. She couldn’t be pregnant. Nobody
    could be that unlucky twice.

    The bell jangled as a scarecrow figure pushed through the door: thin
    face, thin beard, dingy fatigue jacket over layers of sweatshirts.

    Not a camper, Regina thought, despite the backpack. The patina of
    wear, the dirt embedded in the creases of his knuckles and his boots, went
    deeper than a week in the wild. Homeless, maybe.

    “Can I help you?” Antonia asked in a voice that meant something
    else. Get out. Go away.

    39

    Regina understood her hostility. World’s End barely had the social
    services to support its own population. The ferry and the local businesses
    catered to residents and tourists, not the homeless.

    The man eased the pack from his broad, bony shoulders to thump on
    the floor. “I’m looking for work.”

    “What’s your name?” Regina asked.

    “Jericho.”

    “Last name?”

    “Jones.”

    At least he had a last name. It was more than Margred had offered
    when she first came to work for them.

    “Do you have any restaurant experience, Mr. Jones?”

    His gaze slid to meet hers, and her breath caught in her throat.

    Alain used to say the eyes were windows to the soul. Regina figured
    it was mostly a line to get her into bed, but she knew what he meant. You
    could tell when nobody was home. But this guy . . . His eyes were
    crowded, haunted, like he had too many people living in his head,
    jockeying for position at the windows.

    Schizophrenia? Or substance abuse?

    She didn’t care so much if he was using. Half the staff at Perfetto’s
    had been addicted to something, booze or drugs or the adrenaline rush of
    a perfectly performed dinner service. But she