The lobstermen had grabbed their coffees and muffins and gone, and the tourists hadn’t arrived yet. On his first few days in Goose Harbor, J.B. wandered in with the lobstermen, then went out on his rented boat and stayed out of their way—at least his definition of out of their way. The lobstermen wanted him back in Washington. He didn’t know about his next few days in Goose Harbor. He sat with Zoe at a small table overlooking the water. The busted lock on the door was the only evidence of last night’s break-in. Christina was in a cranky mood, slamming around behind the counter and barking orders at her waitresses. She completely ignored her older sister. Finally, she put her hands on her hips, exhaled loudly and apologized. “I didn’t get enough sleep last night.” She smiled over the glass-front counter at Zoe, who’d gotten up to inspect the muffin offerings. “Hey, breakfast’s on me. What’ll it be?”
