One morning, Swan and Duncan are alone in the air-conditioned work trailer at the slanted drafting table reviewing Swan’s marketing plan. Swan worked hard on the plan; she included ideas for Lovango resort merchandise that they could sell at the gift shop. She went so far as to sketch cute logos for the T-shirts—every woman Swan knows would pay good money for a flattering T-shirt or tank to wear over her Lululemons—and she created a list of local artisans whose work they can feature. She’s hoping to impress Duncan. When she Googled him, she found out that he’d started two companies—a sex app and an edible marijuana concern—that he’d then sold, the first for eight figures, the second for nine. In addition to a whole bunch of money, he has a very appealing Australian accent.

Duncan glances at the T-shirt designs and then shuffles them aside.

Swan says, “Merch might be more important than you think because it serves as a source of revenue and a form of advertising. Have you ever heard of the Black Dog on Martha’s Vineyard?”

Dunk blinks at her and brings his vape pen to his mouth. His eyelids seem a little heavy and she wonders if he has marijuana pods in his vape pen.

“No,” he says.

“It’s a restaurant,” Swan says. “They have clam chowder and other New England specialties, but their T-shirts are what’s making them millions. Millions! It’s just a silk screen of a black dog, but that’s part of the mystique. If you know, you know.” She lifts her favorite design, a logo with the words LOVE AND GO. REPEAT. “This has potential, I think? I mean, if you don’t mind propagating the myth of how Lovango got its name?”

“Propagating?” Duncan says. A smile oozes across his face. He’s definitely high. Or maybe just creepy; Swan can’t tell. Either way, he’s one of her bosses. He owns the island. “Are you smart, Swan?”

Swan flinches. He’s joking, right? And if she acts offended, he’ll think she’s rigid and humorless. “I am,” she says pleasantly. “Which is why you hired me.”

Duncan leans in so that the side of his body presses into the side of Swan’s body. “I hired you because you’re a hot little bird,” he says. “A dime.” His hand snakes up her back. He’s touching her back. Swan holds her breath and thinks, What do I do? He hired her because she’s hot? She isn’t an underwear model!

She straightens up so that Dunk’s hand slides off her back. “Smart and hot,” she says. She points to the next page of her plan. “I made a list of influencers that we should invite to the property. Market research shows that influencers are worth more bang for our buck than regular print advertising—”

“Bang for our buck,” Dunk says. “Now you’re talking.” He stands behind Swan and starts to massage her shoulders. His groin grazes her backside.

Nope, sorry, this is not okay. Swan twists away, gathers up her papers, and storms out of the trailer, stumbling into the searing-hot sunshine. There’s a picnic table in the shade of the rocky path where the workers eat their lunch. Swan sits on the table with her feet on the bench seat and tries to steady her breathing. Did she overreact? Is she being too sensitive? No, she decides. That was classic #MeToo stuff back there. Swan shouldn’t have agreed to meet with Duncan alone. But why is she blaming herself? She should be able to meet with whomever she wants under whatever circumstances without being touched inappropriately and told that she was hired because she was hot.

Her eyes sting with tears. She had been so happy to land this job, but she knows she can’t stay on. She has a degree from Florida State, a business degree.

She doesn’t want to cry. She put a lot of effort into her makeup today, not to lure Duncan or anyone else but because she wanted to look professional.

“Hey,” a voice says. “You okay?”

It’s Tilda, walking off the dock with Olive at her side.

Before Swan can think it through, she says, “I was just in the trailer showing Duncan my marketing ideas. He told me he hired me because I was hot, a dime, and then he touched me inappropriately.”

Tilda’s eyebrows shoot up above her sunglasses. She places a hand on Olive’s back, and Olive stands still as a statue. When Tilda opens her mouth, no sound comes out.

Swan drops her head into her hands. On top of everything else, she has to be the one to let Tilda know that her boyfriend is a predator.

“Oh, Swan,” Tilda says. “Do you think maybe you misunderstood? Dunk can be a little familiar, that’s his personality, that’s how he was raised back in Australia, I think, but I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”

This is so textbook! Nobody ever believes the woman! “Listen to me, Tilda. He leaned against me in a suggestive way and put his hand on my back, and when I moved away, he started to massage my shoulders. He…grazed my behind.”

“Swan,” Tilda says. She’s shaking her head when she should be either hugging Swan or storming into the trailer to kick Dunk in the nuts.

“Tilda,” Swan says. She understands denial. Swan willfully ignored her husband’s gambling problem for fourteen years. But how about some solidarity here?

“I’ll ask Keith to run you back to Cruz Bay,” Tilda says. “Thanks for coming over.”

Irene Steele and Captain Huck Powers are living together, and Irene is back working as the first mate on the Mississippi. Irene is logging her days on the water, and as soon as she has three hundred and sixty, she’ll take her captain’s test. Huck thinks it’s a great idea. He even goes to St. Thomas to look at the boat Irene inquired about.

The boat is in good condition and the seller is motivated; he’s leaving the Virgin Islands altogether at the beginning of June. Huck advises Irene to make an offer of forty thousand.

“I don’t have forty to spend,” she says.

“How about we split it?” Huck says. “Add it to the fleet. It needs work, which I can do myself. And then once you get your captain’s license, we can run two boats, the Mississippi and the Angler Cupcake. God knows we have enough business.”

More than enough, Irene thinks, with a growing number of women-only charters. All it took was a few complimentary trips. The first of these was for Baker’s school-mom friends Swan, Bonny, and Paula. The three of them took pictures with the fish they caught and posted them on Facebook and Instagram. Next, Huck and Irene invited Joanie’s mom, Julie Judge, and her three sisters out on the boat, and they all posted pictures. And finally, they had a paying charter for a young woman named Gretchen Gingerman who came with her mother. It turned out that Gretchen had met Cash on her previous visit to St. John, a trip that had gone badly, and it was only because of Cash that Gretchen gave the island another try, with a different travel partner.

Gretchen’s post brought in a flurry of business, including a bachelorette party. Six beautiful young women, five in matching pink T-shirts and one in a white T-shirt and a short white veil, all in great spirits thanks to a thermos filled with cosmo punch and a playlist of Lizzo and Billie Eilish. They caught a couple of small wahoo, which elicited high-pitched shrieks, and they took fifty million pictures, including one with Irene. All of the girls loved Irene, she was “such a beast,” and when they were older they were going to do something “sick” like move to the Virgin Islands to work on a fishing boat.