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“How are you feeling about the operation, Dad?”

Remorse hit me as soon as I asked. I’d hauled the obvious into the hospital room.

As usual. And this was the last time we’d see him until after the operation tomorrow morning.

Beside Declan, Mum drew a deep breath, and the shaky uneasiness in the air turned into a tense pounding I could almost hear.

“I’ve had a brush with death, and I count myself lucky at my narrow escape,” Dad said. “And I think my luck’s going to last.”

He’d put a positive spin on it, but still, this was too close to the bone for Mum, who always seemed uncomfortable when a conversation turned searching or introspective. Arms crossed, she headed out to the cafeteria to fetch some teas.

“I wonder,” Declan said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “Has this made you realize what’s important in life?”

Was he trying to rescue this conversation for my sake? The old me would have bristled at how unnecessary this was, but now I appreciated it.

“Oh, of course.” Dad paused and smiled. “When I left high school, the old butcher’s had closed down.

It’s now Ruby Dunes—you know, CeeCee’s boutique.

Anyway, that space was up for rent for the first time in decades.

I wanted to set up a bookstore full of maps, biographies, travel books, and novels.

My father wouldn’t loan me the money to stock it.

Too frivolous, he said. Instead, he arranged an apprenticeship at the mill so I could pay my way and help out at home. ”

All his dreams gone. I clutched my chest with surprise. Why hadn’t I taken enough interest in him to ask? I thought I’d been a curious child, but I hadn’t found out this meaningful thing about my dad. “I didn’t know, Dad.”

“I’m sorry to hear this,” Declan said. He looked genuinely troubled and leaned closer to Dad. “That sounds tough.”

How at ease he was when someone talked about emotions and conflict. In contrast, I always turned twitchy and terse. Seems like I’m a lot like my mum.

Dad shrugged. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, being a fitter and turner at the mill wasn’t bad.

It wasn’t my life’s blood, and working shifts all your life is tough.

But I made a lot of good mates who’d do anything for me.

” He pointed at the mass of flowers and cards on his dresser and a table in the corner.

“Still, on the graveyard shift, I’d imagine myself sitting in a corner of my store, surrounded by that wonderful smell of new books. ”

Declan’s face brightened as he mirrored Dad’s smile.

“I saw you have loads of biographies at the house,” Declan said. “I love those too.”

“Fascinating to get into the minds of other people and cultures, isn’t it?” Dad said. “Takes you out of yourself.”

We’d talked about mysteries when I was a kid, and he took me to the library every Friday night.

We texted about them now. But this was a surprise.

I’d never seen him as curious. I always got the impression that he and Mum thought of journalism as nosy and embarrassing and that I was making a nuisance of myself.

Dad had always left for work, his lunch or dinner packed, whistling a tune or with a smile on his face.

I hadn’t considered whether he liked his job or that he’d dreamed of another life.

Was this something more than simply being a normal kid who thinks of their parents as just parents, not people?

Had I done to him what I felt everyone in the town had done to me? Judged and categorized?

Dad patted my hand, and his eyes rested on me.

“See, Isla?” he said. “That’s why I was keen to loan Snow money for the winery, to give him a steady income so he could build his dream of having a surf school.”

He’d learned, and Snow got the benefit of his learning. I pushed the jealous thought from my mind. I had to stop brooding about this; it wasn’t helping.

Declan and I exchanged a quick glance, his eyebrows raised at Dad’s naivete, a very different expression from when he was being supportive of Dad a moment earlier. What winery provided a steady cash flow?

“Thank you for getting me to talk about that, Declan.” Dad sniffed, his eyes watery. “Sort of sad in a way, I suppose. I’d hug you both if these damn tubes would let me.”

I reached in carefully and hugged him as best as I could, given all the tubes. Declan did the same. When I drew away, my vision was blurry.

“Isla, you’re lucky to have found such a good man,” Dad said, blinking quickly, like he was trying to get rid of the tears before Mum returned. Amid my mess of emotions, I felt dreadful about our deceit. “So chuffed about that, whatever happens with me.”

Declan said simply, “I’m the lucky one. ”

He pressed his lips together tightly. He looked uncomfortable, which I hadn’t seen before, and I wondered if he was feeling as guilty about this as I was.

I clutched at Dad’s hand, both of us shaking. All I could think about were the risks.

“I love you, Dad.” I tried to smile, but my lips were trembling so much I was sure it looked more like a grimace.

“I love you too.” He looked frightened.

Why was this the first time we’d said this to each other?

He couldn’t leave us now. I’d just found out how similar we were.

I patted his hand. “Hey. I’ll start that mystery Kui got for you so we can discuss it tomorrow after the operation.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” His voice was wobbly. “That’s a definite.”

Mum arrived back with the tea. Later, Declan put one arm around me and the other around Mum as we walked out, silent, as we had this morning.

Something had shifted in me. My eyes traced his profile as we drove home, his hand over the console, holding mine.

His compassion made him seem… even more attractive.

It was almost impossible to believe he was acting toward Dad. Or with me. I so wanted to believe it wasn’t part of the ruse. But I couldn’t fall into this trap.

*

“Bloody nora! Have you seen Declan do those push-up clappy thingies on the beach? That man is ripped.” Rosemary gaped out our window, jaw slack.

I rose from the sofa. Declan was working out on the beach, bare-chested, every muscle on his back defined, sweat flying off him .

“Yep.” I stood with her, appreciating his body.

“Oh, jeez.” Mum was at the sink and averted her eyes.

“Just to say good luck for tomorrow.” Rosemary joined Mum at the sink and gave her a hug. “And here’s some avocados.” She emptied a bag into the fruit bowl. “Sorry, gotta go. Zoom call, money never sleeps.”

On the pretense of checking out her new pink cruiser bike, I walked her out.

“What a pretty basket,” I said, running my hand over the wicker. “By the way, how’s that big campground deal going with the bow-tied buyer?” I tried to keep my tone casual.

“CeeCee was right.” She hoisted herself onto her seat. “I can’t talk about that.”

“I might be able to dig up some background on him.”

“No, I have to keep it quiet.” Her eyes diverted to Declan again. “Wish my Fleur had a nice bloke like you do. She’s so consumed with being this town’s health and safety boss that she won’t take any risks with men either.”

Fleur was head of health and safety? Rosemary talked about how Fleur should start by softening her look with hair extensions. I nodded intently, but the back of my neck was tingling. Fleur might be able to shed some light on those regulations at the winery.

A few more questions and I learned Fleur had a dog she walked at seven in the evening, straight after her dinner.

When I first arrived, the comings and goings on the beach seemed random. But they weren’t at all. No one left the house without fruit, cake, or jam to drop off. Everyone had a definite destination, even if they got waylaid.

The dog walking was precision itself, each person timed to meet dogs and people they liked and avoid those they didn’t.

So, later, while Mum was making a cup of tea and Declan was on his phone in the bedroom, I snapped on Fred’s leash. Before Mum could offer to join me, I was out the door.

I paced impatiently on the beach. As Mum stepped out onto the front deck, a hand shielding her eyes, Fleur strode past with her doodle mix, a dog as bouncy and smiley as she wasn’t.

She made a striking figure—a champion rower; she’d grown unusually tall, maybe even six feet, with broad shoulders and no-nonsense short hair.

Over her baggy jeans and T-shirt, she wore a high-vis vest.

“Hey, Fleur, fancy meeting you here,” I said.

“What.” It wasn’t a question; it was the word what .

Was she standoffish and prickly to protect herself from the comments— so big for a woman, so strong for a woman, those shoulders . How often had I watched myself be as grim and difficult?

“I like your high-vis vest,” I said. “Obviously essential for dog walking.”

“Safety doesn’t take a holiday.” Her voice and face were emotionless, except for an almost imperceptible twitch of her lips.

I laughed. She’d had the same sardonic sense of humor as a kid.

“Seems like pretty much everyone here wears those vests for work—suppose that’s your doing?” I asked. “It’s like someone’s taken a fluorescent marker and dabbed it all over the landscape.”

She cracked a smile.

“Funny that,” I said, “because New Zealand has the most wild-ass unsafe activities.”

She huffed out a laugh. “I’m going to use that.” She turned to me for the first time and narrowed her eyes. “By the way, I’m only talking to you because your mother keeps Mum off my back about restyling my hair and my life. Cut to the guts,” she said.

What a relief. “About Snow’s winery. Could I get a wine tour without them obtaining a permit?”

“What are ya?” She screwed up her face in disbelief.

But I wasn’t going to let her off that easily. “You kind of owe me, Fleur,” I said. “All those nights I let you girls stay up. And I always brought you loads of lollies. I’ll go to my grave with that—final offer.”

She rolled her eyes and gave a reluctant laugh. “Think Mum turned a blind eye. She could never decide whether you were the shittiest or the best babysitter. Okay. Yes. Winery regs three two. Up to four friends can visit a winery if they’re not charged.” She sniffed, annoyed.

“Thank you, Fleur.”

We ambled together for a little longer, laughing about our mothers.

“I envy you,” she said. “Buggering off, starting new.”

“Maybe you could come and stay with me in London. It might have to be the sofa, but you’re welcome anytime.” I didn’t add… if I still have a home . When we reached her flat above Rosemary’s house, I risked one more question. “Perchance, do you know anyone at the police station?”

“Fuck off,” she said, turning on a heel.