Chapter One
Standing in her kitchen in Tinker's Cove, Maine, where she
was cooking up a big pot of clam chowder base she planned
to freeze for easy summer suppers, Lucy Stone knew she was
in the final countdown. The hands on the old Regulator
clock read a quarter past three; in moments the school bus
would arrive for the last time until next September. It
was Monday, June 17โthe last day of school.
Watching the second hand jump forward, Lucy felt her
freedom ticking away. Oh, she'd had a better run than
usual this year. Thanks to several heavy snowstorms, the
school calendar had been extended to make up the lost
days. But now, the 180 days mandated by the Tinker's Cove
school board and agreed to by the teacher's union had
finally been completed.
The grind of gears as the big yellow school bus started
the climb up Red Top Road told Lucy her time had run out.
This must be what it feels like to be a condemned prisoner
who hears her last appeal has been denied, she thought.
She went over to the screen door and listened. It was like
this every year; she could hear the children's excited
screams as the bus drew closer. Then the brakes squealed
and the doors flapped open.
"Talk about your cold-blooded killers," said Geoff
Rumford, pointing at a bowl full of seashells Lucy had set
on the table as a centerpiece, "nothing beats your humble
moon snail."
Lucy glanced around the dining room table where they were
gathered and then looked at the bowl of seashells she had
used for a centerpiece. She had taken extra care setting
the table, not only because Geoff was a guest, but because
it was the first time in a long time that the whole family
had been able to eat together and she had wanted to make
it special.
"I've always thought moon snails are pretty," she said,
studying the bleached white shells. She picked one up,
noticing its satisfying round shape and the neat,
concentric whorl of dark gray on one side. It was as if an
artist had taken a fine brush and added the subtlest swirl
of color to emphasize the snail's shape.
"This snail doesn't look like much of a threat to me," she
added, smiling broadly at Geoff. Geoff always made her
smile. He was youngโin his late-twentiesโand good-looking,
but that was only part of it. It was also that she so
wholeheartedly approved of Geoff. He was a graduate of the
local high school in Tinker's Cove and had gone on to
college and was now working on his doctorate in marine
biology at Columbia university in New York City. He was a
young man with bright prospectsโexactly the sort of young
person she hoped her own four children would turn out to
be.
"Not a threat to you, but believe me, pretty terrifying to
a scallop or clam." Geoff winked at Zoe, at six years of
age the youngest of Lucy's children, and started humming
the shark theme from Jaws.
"That's right," chimed in Toby, at eighteen the oldest,
who had just finished his freshman year at Coburn
University in New Hampshire. He was spending his summer
vacation working for Geoff, helping with his thesis
project. "The moon snail has a special organ called a
radula which it uses to drill right through the shell of a
poor, helpless little blue-eyed scallop."
Sara, who was thirteen and a champion of all animals,
gulped hard.
"The scallop can't get away," continued Toby, smiling
rather meanly. "It just has to sit there while the moon
snail drills away at its shell."
"What happens then?" asked Elizabeth, directing her
question at Geoff. She was seventeen and would continue
her education in the fall at Chamberlain College in
Boston. In the meantime, she was looking for more
excitement than her summer job as a chambermaid at the
Queen Victoria Inn could offer.
"Uh, well," replied Geoff, growing a bit red around the
collar, "the snail sucks out the clam and eats it for
dinner. Just like we're doing. This chowder is delicious."
"Lucy's a great cookโwhen she bothers to take the time,"
said Bill, from his seat at the head of the table.
That's how it was with Bill these days, she thought.
Always that note of criticism. She'd first noticed it last
fall, when he was out of work for a few weeks. He'd
promptly gotten another job and their finances had soon
recovered, but not Bill's spirits. Hopefully it was just a
temporary phase, a little bout of insecurity. She hoped
so; she was tired of constantly struggling to keep her
temperโnot that she always managed to succeed.
"What time?" she asked, her voice rising in
pitch. "Between work and the kids' schedules, there's no
time to make dinner from scratch." She looked at her
husband. "Now that school's out, I'm hoping we can have
more family dinners."
Bill's expression was doubtful. "Since you're working full-
time, how's that going to happen? It's going to be pizza,
pizza, hamburgers and more pizza."
Lucy changed the subject. "Would anyone like seconds?"
"Don't mind if I do," said Geoff, passing his bowl over
for a refill.
"So, Geoff," said Bill, passing his bowl, too. "What is
this research project all about, anyway? Not snails, I
bet."
"Not snails. Lobsters. As I'm sure you know, there's been
a sudden drop in the population and I want to find out
why."
"I thought it was overfishing," said Lucy, who worked as a
reporter at the local weekly newspaper and was familiar
with the problem. Declining catches and increased
regulations had brought the industry to near collapse, and
tensions were running high on the waterfront as fishermen,
some of whom were the sons and grandsons of seafaring men,
saw their traditional way' of life threatened.
"Well, that's part of the problem, but the fishermen say
they're seeing a lot more sick and diseased lobsters that
they can't sell. If we can find out what's going on, we
may be able to keep the stock healthier."
"What does it matter?" asked Sara, with a resigned
sigh. "They'll kill them anyway."
"It's jobs, silly," said Toby, his voice weary with the
weight of the knowledge and sophistication he'd acquired
in his freshman year. "This is Maine. Lobsters are big
business."
"Well, I don't think it makes any difference to the
lobsters," Sara answered self-righteously.
A honk sounded in the driveway and she jumped to her feet.
"Where do you think you're going?" demanded Bill.
"The movies. Mom said it was okay."
"I did? I don't remember that."
"You know. With Jessica and Caitlin and Meghan. I haven't
seen them since school got out a whole week ago."
"I must have forgotten," said Lucy.
Bill looked to Geoff for sympathy. "If I had a dollar for
everything she's forgotten lately..."
"Who's driving?" asked Lucy.
"Caitlin's mom. And she's bringing us home, too."
"Okay. But remember you have to get up early tomorrow."
Sara and Zoe both went to the day camp at the local
Friends of Animals shelter, and Sara was a counselor-in-
training. It was the cheapest camp Lucy could find, but
the girls' camp fees were the main reason Lucy had
switched from part-time to full-time at the paper.
Sara ran out, letting the screen door slam behind her.
"I don't know why we can't ever seem to have a family
dinner anymore," grumbled Bill. "When I was a kid, my mom
made..."
"Things have changed so much since then," teased Lucy,
determined not to be drawn into a fight. She knew Bill
didn't want her working at all. If he had his druthers,
she'd be a full-time housewife like his mother was. "Take
electricity and indoor plumbing, for example."
Bill grimaced at her but didn't say anything.
"So what exactly will you and Toby be doing?" asked
Elizabeth, fixing her dark eyes on Geoff and twirling a
lock of her short, dark hair around her finger. "How will
you actually conduct the research?"
"Just like the lobstermen, with one big difference. We'll
trap the critters and log their condition, draw some
blood, and then we'll return them to the water."
"There must be more to it than that," insisted Elizabeth,
batting her eyelashes.
Watching her daughter's performance, Lucy hoped she wasn't
going to spend the summer throwing herself at everyone she
met who happened to wear pants.
"Oh, there is," said Geoff, sitting up a little straighter
in his chair. "We have to analyze the blood, identify any
parasites, and write up the results."
"It sounds fascinating," cooed Elizabeth, propping her
chin on her elbow and leaning toward Geoff. "It is pretty
interesting, actually," said Geoff, his lips curling into
a smile.
"Aren't you going out or something tonight?" asked Toby,
irritated that Geoff was paying so much attention to his
sister.
"Not until six-thirty."
"It is six-thirty," said Toby.
"Shit!" exclaimed Elizabeth, jumping up.
"Watch your language," admonished Bill.
"Uh, sorry. I've got to go," she said, pausing to sway her
hips provocatively as she passed Geoff.
"Better not keep your date waiting," said Geoff.
"It's not a dateโshe's just going to the mall with Jenny,"
said Toby.
"Don't act like you know who I'm going out with because
you don't," said Elizabeth. "Besides, it's none of your
business."
"It is if you're planning to take the truck, because I'm
going to need it later."
"Can't Eddie pick you up for once?" said Elizabeth, giving
tit for tat.
"No, he can't. Besides, I got permission from Dad."
Bill nodded and handed the keys over to Toby.
Elizabeth appealed to her mother. "Mom, can I borrow your
car?"
"I guess so." Hearing the phone ring, she added, "Get
that, please."
"Sure thing." A moment later, she was back. "It's for
Zoe."
"For me?" Zoe was delighted. Although the phone seemed to
ring constantly for her older siblings, it was rarely for
her.
"Just say you have to call back because it's dinnertime,"
said Lucy, invoking a nearly forgotten family rule.
"Do I have to?"
Lucy looked around at the empty places at the table and
decided she was fighting a losing battle.
"Just this once," she said, relenting. "I don't know why I
bothered to make dessert if nobody's here to eat it."
"Dessert?" Bill was definitely interested.
"Strawberry-rhubarb pie."
"Homemade ?"
Lucy wasn't about to admit she'd bought it at the grocery
store. "Let's have our pie and coffee in the gazebo," she
said.
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