“Some people like being miserable,” Irene murmurs to Huck as the couple head off the dock like two of the Seven Dwarves—Dopey and Grumpy. “It’s what brings them joy.”

I love you, Huck thinks, and that’s when he notices the Jeep again. Black Jeep, tinted windows. He checks the license plate and repeats it in his head—TP 6756—but two seconds after the Jeep drives away, he’s forgotten it.

Could be just a coincidence, a tourist driving around. Tinted windows are legal, though you don’t find them on rental vehicles.

He shakes his head. He’s thinking of Oscar Cobb, Rosie’s old boyfriend, the one with the Ducati motorcycle who, after he was released from prison, drove a Jeep with tinted windows. Oscar’s Jeep called attention to itself; it was jacked up, sitting on top of thirty-five-inch BFG mudders.

Huck is thinking of Oscar Cobb again because even though he promised himself he wouldn’t, he has been reading steadily through Rosie’s journals. It was as simple and irrevocable as Eve taking the first bite of the apple; one taste and Huck was damned.

The journals were a trip back in time. Rosie was single, working at Caneel Bay, living with Huck and LeeAnn. Oscar Cobb came sniffing around, and Rosie resisted. (LeeAnn, Huck thought, would have been so proud of how Rosie resisted!) Russell Steele had stepped between Rosie and Oscar one night. He put Oscar into some kind of death grip, and despite himself, Huck cheered for the guy. That was the beginning of the relationship; it was damn near accidental. Russ hadn’t been on the prowl looking to hook up with anyone. He’d seen a person in trouble and he’d helped out. The affair lasted the weekend, and that, Huck supposed, would have been that—were it not for Maia.

There are two places in the journals where Huck choked up. The first was the description of the morning Rosie announced she was pregnant. If Huck had had to remember this on his own, he would have come up blank. But reading the scene in Rosie’s handwriting carried him back to the exact moment—his own kitchen, a typical morning. LeeAnn was wearing her raspberry scrubs, her nails painted to match. She was drinking the cup of coffee that Huck always made for her, awaiting her egg and toast. Huck had been dressed for a charter. He wonders now who he’d taken out on the boat that day and what they’d caught and if he’d seemed distracted because of the news his stepdaughter had dropped at breakfast. What Huck does remember is his fear about LeeAnn’s reaction. LeeAnn’s number-one priority since the day Huck met her had been keeping Rosie from messing up her life in exactly this way. She had gotten Rosie through high school and through college without her becoming pregnant with Oscar’s baby.

That day, Rosie swore the baby wasn’t Oscar’s. She said it was a white fella’s, a businessman who’d stayed at the hotel. A pirate. Huck was skeptical. LeeAnn was more than skeptical.

“We’ll know the truth when this baby is born,” she said.

The second place Huck tears up is at Rosie’s description of Maia losing her first tooth. Again, the breakfast table, again toast, because at some point, Huck began making an egg and toast for Maia as well as for LeeAnn. The tooth popped out and skittered across the kitchen floor. Huck found it after a few minutes of hunting—Maia had been worried, the Tooth Fairy and all that—and when he held it up, she’d wrapped her arms around his legs. That was right before LeeAnn got sick and died. The end of the golden days, though of course, none of them had any idea it was the end. And that, Huck supposes, is why it makes him emotional. His life was blessed and he hadn’t appreciated it like he should have.

Rosie got back together with Russ after LeeAnn died; she was vulnerable—and she was free.

The journals mention Irene, the wife at home in Iowa City, a woman Rosie saw as a rival. Was Russ planning on leaving Irene and moving down to the islands permanently? It’s anyone’s guess. Starting in 2015, there are mentions of Russ’s business dealings—the villa and land in Little Cinnamon, the business trips to Anegada, to Grand Cayman. There’s mention of Russ wanting to get out of his business dealings and Todd Croft not allowing it; Todd Croft showed up at La Tapa to threaten Rosie.

He killed them, Huck thinks. They were headed to Anegada on New Year’s Day and Todd Croft blew them up.

What did Irene say? That the charges might not stick; Croft might be released.

The journals have to go to the FBI. Huck has Colette Vasco’s number programmed into his phone. He should call her; she needs to see these.

But…maybe not yet.

Huck believes in honesty. In this situation, does that mean that he should tell Irene he has these journals and that he’s planning on handing them over to the FBI? Should he ask Irene if she wants to see them? Or, out of regard for her emotional well-being, should he spare her? Should he give the journals to Vasco and when Irene finds out say he didn’t read them and didn’t think she should read them either? Is this reasonable? This sounds reasonable, but it’s not honest. Is it better? Will it save Irene’s heart from breaking again?

Irene is adjusting to their new circumstances better than Huck expected. She’s now sleeping in Maia’s room. They have developed a routine. Irene worries about money, he knows, but guess what—so does everyone else in the world.

Irene’s attorney in Iowa City calls and leaves a message while they’re out on a charter. Her mother-in-law’s estate is through probate and Milly Steele has left behind “assets,” though in the message, the attorney doesn’t say what kind.

“Do you think it’s money?” Irene asks Huck. “Do you think it’s a lot of money? Do you think Russ used Milly’s account as a place to hide cash? Do you think Milly knew what Russ was doing? Was she in on it?”

Most of these questions sound rhetorical, so Huck just answers the first. “Assets could mean money,” Huck says. “Or it could mean a pile of crocheted afghans and used bingo cards.”

“You’re making an old-lady joke,” Irene says. “By definition, assets are worth something. Maybe Milly owned real estate I don’t know about?” Her voice is hopeful, then, sounding defeated, she says, “I’m actually hoping that Russ hid money with his ninety-seven-year-old mother and that now it will be mine and somehow the FBI won’t find out.”

“And you won’t tell them?”

“I’m not sure,” Irene says. She fiddles with the end of her chestnut braid, worrying the band that keeps it together, which is something Huck has noticed her doing a lot recently. This gives Huck hope that Irene Steele is just a regular gal after all and not some kind of superhuman who elegantly copes with whatever life throws at her. “I hate to say it, but I might be tempted to keep it.” She honks out a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s probably afghans. Or her cane. Or a fifty-percent-off coupon for an order of wings at the Wig and Pen.”

Two days later, Huck sees the Jeep with the tinted windows parked outside the minimart in front of Rhumb Lines just as someone is climbing into the front seat. The “someone” appears to be a white female, small in stature. Huck chuckles. Probably just some local concerned about the sun. Although…if it were a local, he would have seen the Jeep before. Maybe she just bought it. It’s not impossible.