Irene gets hold of her Iowa City attorney, Ed Sorley. The assets are a collection of blue-chip stocks that Milly has apparently had for decades; converted to cash, they will net Irene one hundred and seventeen thousand dollars.

Irene is jubilant. “The assets are clean!” she says. “They were investments Russ’s father made years and years ago that Milly never touched.”

“And she left it all to you?” Huck says. “You’re rich!”

“It’s breathing room,” Irene says. “I’m going to split it four ways—me, Cash, Baker, and Maia.”

“Maia?”

“For her education.”

“AC…”

“Just let me do it, please,” Irene says. “She’s Russ’s daughter, Milly’s granddaughter. I’m not arguing with you about it.”

“Okay,” Huck says. “Should we celebrate? Maia is with Ayers tonight, so it’s just the two of us.”

“Shambles?” Irene says.

Huck chuckles. Shambles is Irene’s new obsession. It’s a brightly painted local bar at mile marker two on the Centerline Road that overlooks the Paradise Lumberyard and a mechanic’s car-strewn lot. The place puts the loca in local, which is maybe what Irene likes about it, along with the drinks. The first time they went, the bartender, Nathan, made Irene a rum punch that she claimed was “magic” (or maybe just strong). The food is better than it needs to be; it’s downright delicious.

Huck and Irene grab two bar stools, then order a couple of rum punches and pulled pork sandwiches with fries and slaw. They chat with the mechanic and his wife and a couple visiting from Toronto. Nathan slips Irene a second rum punch and, Huck suspects, maybe even a third, because by the time they’re ready to leave, Irene has talked the couple from Toronto into booking a fishing charter.

“Ha!” Irene says as they climb into the truck. “That was fun. And I made it rain! We have a full-day charter on Friday.”

“Good job, AC,” Huck says. When he pulls into the driveway at home, he turns off the ignition but he stays in the truck, and Irene stays in the truck, and it feels for all the world like he’s taking her home after a date. Should he kiss her? He promised to let her make the first move.

She places her hand on his thigh. She takes off her seat belt and scoots closer to him. She raises her face to his cheek; he can smell the rum and fruit on her breath. How magic were those rum punches? he wonders.

“AC,” he says. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

He warns her they’ll be difficult to read.

“It’s the story of their relationship,” he says. “Start to finish. I can give you the CliffsNotes version, if you’d rather?”

Irene shakes her head, clutching the journals to her chest. Instantly, he wants to snatch them back. Rosie never intended those journals for Huck’s eyes and she definitely never intended them for Irene’s eyes.

“When I found out about Rosie and Russ, I told myself that I would find a way to forgive them,” Irene says. “Maybe understanding how it all unfolded will make that easier.”

No, Huck thinks. It won’t. “Maybe,” he says.

She’s standing in front of her bedroom door. The air between them is charged—yes? Maia is away overnight for the first time since Irene moved in.

“I appreciate you giving these to me,” Irene says. “I’m sure it was a hard decision.”

“Torturous,” Huck says. He needs a cigarette, badly. “Well, good night, AC.”

“Wait,” Irene says. She opens the bedroom door, sets the journals on the nightstand, and reemerges to give him a kiss. It’s a real kiss, long and delicious, that leaves Huck breathless and aching. She pulls away for a second, then comes back in for more. Huck is very careful with his hands. One is on her shoulder, one on the side of her face. Her fingers are linked through his belt loops. He forgets about the cigarette, about the journals, about the FBI, about the Jeep with the tinted windows, about Rosie, Russ, LeeAnn. He’s here with Irene in this moment. It’s all he wants in the world.

She reels him in; she lets him go; she reels him in a little closer. He’s hooked. She is the Angler Cupcake.

She lets him go. Pulls away. Smiles at him. “That’s all for tonight,” she says.

Huck raises his palms. He can’t speak.

She disappears into her room. Huck grabs the Flor de Caña from the shelf in the kitchen and his pack of Camels and goes out to the deck.

The next day, Irene is fine, she’s normal. She tells the boys about the money from Milly. Baker says he doesn’t need his share; he got a windfall from Anna. He tells Irene to split his portion three ways.

And Cash is…

“He seemed more relieved than anything,” Irene says. “Thirty-nine grand is a big boost for him, so I thought he’d be more excited. He sounds preoccupied. Tilda has just left on a work trip with an investor in this project her parents have cooking and he’s bothered by that.”

“Women,” Huck says. “They’ll get you every time.”

Irene’s expression is inscrutable. Has she read the diaries? Huck is afraid to ask, but his gut tells him the answer is no.

The next day, they have the charter with the couple from Toronto whose names, Huck sees when he checks the confirmation text from Destiny, are Jack and Diane Boyle. Little ditty, Huck thinks, ’bout Jack and Diane…He wonders how many times those poor folks have heard people sing that to them. Huck makes coffee for himself and Irene, makes an egg and toast with papaya jam from Jake’s for Maia. Irene has yet to come out of her room, which is unlike her.

“Is Irene okay?” Maia asks. “I thought I heard her crying late last night.”

Crying? Huck’s heart sinks. “Hurry it up, Nut. I’m going to run you to school a little early, then come back and scoop up Irene.”

Maia shovels in her egg, takes her toast to go.

Huck calls out, “Be right back, AC!”

The black Jeep with the tinted windows is waiting in the elbow joint of Jacob’s Ladder, a step closer than it was the last time. Huck stares at the place where the driver would be. If the Jeep is still there when he comes back, he’s going to knock on the window.

As soon as Huck and Maia pass, the Jeep follows them. In his rearview, Huck can see the woman—brown hair pulled back, round face. He doesn’t recognize her. When he turns left, the Jeep turns right, toward Cruz Bay.

Okay, Huck thinks. The driver doesn’t seem particularly villainous, but there’s no denying she’s watching them. Who is she?

When Huck gets back to the house, Irene is out front. Her hair is braided, she has her sunglasses on, her face is grim. She climbs in the truck and slams the door a little harder than necessary.

“I take it you read the journals.”

“I don’t want to talk about it until after this charter,” Irene says. “But you should know, today will be my last day working for you.”

“What?” Huck says. “Irene…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Irene says, “until after this charter. This charter was my doing and although I would rather be anywhere else today, I’m honoring my commitment. But after today, Huck, no, I’m sorry.”