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good for the lobstermen, isn’t it?”
    “If they sell now, it would be. They could get top dollar. But if they hold their catch for the festival, which they promised they would, the prices could drop by then. If they do, the men stand to lose a lot of money. This is what we live on, Jessica. We don’t want to gamble with our income.”
    “I thought the dealer had agreed to pay the going price for the lobsters we’re holding for the festival.”
    “Henry Pettie? He’s a slippery one. He may have agreed in March when we were making plans. But now he sees a way to boost his profit. He’s offering thirty cents a pound less than what the market is going for now. The men are torn. They want to support the festival, but they don’t want Pettie to take advantage of their goodwill.”
    “I don’t blame them. Has anyone spoken to him?”
    “It’s complicated. Pettie holds the notes on a lot of the men’s boats.”
    “You mean he lends them money and uses the boats as collateral?”
    “Well, the banks won’t,” she said, sounding defensive.
    “Why not?”
    “They say the business is too precarious. The men never know how much they’re goin’ to make. And that’s true. You’re lucky if you have a house, but they won’t give a dime for a boat. Or for the equipment. Those Fathometers and radios and satellite boxes, they cost a fortune. There’s not a lobsterman in town doesn’t owe Pettie money. And he makes ’em sign for it. Keeps a little black book in his back pocket. Threatens to collect whenever someone goes up against ’im.”
    “Even so, there must be some recourse when he’s paying below the market rate.”
    “Levi says their hands are tied. The festival committee negotiated with the dealer, and the association had a man on the committee, representin’ the lobstermen. He signed the contract.”
    “Oh, dear. Didn’t he show it to others in the association first?”
    Mary shook her head. “You can’t really blame him. No one thought Pettie would exploit the situation for his own gain. But Spencer’s an old man. Maybe he was the wrong one to put on the committee, but no else volunteered.”
    “Spencer Durkee?”
    “Yes. There are a bunch of Monday-morning quarterbacks now heapin’ abuse on him, carryin’ on about how they would never have signed that contract. There’s lots of resentment. The other morning Spencer went out and found his lines cut; he lost all his traps. Then, when he went into town to try to scare up new ones, someone poured a pile of rotten bait on the Done For ’s deck.”
    “How awful.”
    “It was in the Gazette . I’m surprised you didn’t see it.”
    “I get behind in my reading when I’m finishing up a book,” I said. “I have a pile of magazines and newspapers at home to look through before I recycle them.”
    “I can’t imagine why they put something like that in the paper. We were all embarrassed. Levi helped Spencer clean it up, and he came home stinkin’ worse than I’ve ever smelled him. And that’s saying something. Some of the men can be very mean when they’re provoked. But what’s the point of poundin’ up an old man? And who knows if one of these young highliners would’ve been any better at reading the contract? They didn’t raise their hands when asked to serve on the committee, so they’ve only themselves to blame.”
    “Is there anything the committee can do now?” I asked.
    “I think it’s too late. The lobstermen’s association is meeting tonight.”
    “Oh, dear,” I said. “You don’t think they’d do anything to jeopardize the festival, do you?”
    “I can’t promise you that.”
    “Where are they meeting?”
    “Down at Nudd’s Bait and Tackle, on the other end of the docks from Mara’s.”
    “I know the place.”
    “I wouldn’t get in the middle of this, Jessica.”
    “No. No,” I said. “They should work it out themselves.”
    “I’m sure they will,” she said, pouring me another cup of tea. “When Levi