At fifteen, this would’ve been her dream scenario, the stuff of miracle prayers whispered before bed. A version ofThe Parent Trap. Now? It felt like a nightmare in hiking boots—or in her mother’s case, the wrong shoes entirely.
She’d ordered Maisie to stick like Velcro to her mother,who’d shown up looking utterly fabulous and completely unprepared for a rugged island tour, tottering around in high heels like she was heading to a cocktail party. Typical Lucille Johnson. She always looked glamorous, but practical? Never.
Scout’s dad, on the other hand, had wandered off in the opposite direction with Naki, the two deep in conversation. Earlier, Naki had asked if he and Dad could go up in the lighthouse. Not possible, she told him. Even for her. It was locked up tight. She wasn’t sure why they wanted to go up, but before she could ask, he was back at her dad’s side. Somehow, her father had sweet-talked the tourist boat operator into stopping over the shipwreck so he could “take measurements.” Then again, Mother always said Dad’s charm could sing the birds right out of the trees.
Too soon, Scout returned to the shore to supervise Frankie as he ferried tourists back and forth to the boat in the skiff. He’d made a couple of runs and was returning to the shore for the last few tourists when the radio on her hip crackled. “Uh, Scout?”
She shielded her eyes and saw him in the skiff, halfway between the boat and the shore, stalled. “What’s wrong?”
“Engine keeps conking out.” Frankie’s voice came through, tight with panic. “Better tell the skipper to send another skiff.”
Scout’s eyebrows shot up. “Frankie, there is no other skiff.”
Silence. Then, “Oh. Well, let him know it’s gonna be a while, then.”
“How many tourists left on the island?”
“Uh, let me see. Five, counting you.”
She clicked the button. “Skipper, we’ve got a skiff engine issue. Frankie’s going to need a walk-through on repairs.”
“Copy that,” came the reply.
When she turned around to count the remaining tourists, her heart sank. She had assumed that her parents were already onthe boat. Her mother was tiptoeing toward her while Maisie clutched her arm like an overly enthusiastic bridesmaid.
Her father and Naki appeared from a different path, strolling toward the shore as if there wasn’t a care in the world.Oh boy.
Rowing, Frankie beached the skiff, and the engine coughed out noises that sounded like a barking dog.
Naki came to stand beside her. “Perhaps I can help with the repair.”
Scout could have hugged him. “I would appreciate that very much.” Frankie fixing the engine without supervision was a recipe for disaster. They could be here all night. “Where did you two go?”
“Since we couldn’t go into the lighthouse, we went to the highest point of the island.”
“Why?”
“Because your father has a theory that the gold caches were hidden in spots that could’ve been seen from the top of the lighthouse. Most of them, anyway.”
“SHUT MY MOUTH!” As soon as the words flew out, Scout covered her mouth with her hands. Did she really just say that to Naki? His eyes danced with amusement. “Sorry. Southern thing. But that’s amazin!” And yet it made sense too. On a clear day, from the top of the lighthouse, you had a panoramic view. That’s what she heard, anyway. She’d never been.
“What’s amazing?” Maisie was suddenly between them.
“Maisie,” Naki said, “come be my assistant. Frankie needs a little mechanical savvy.”
“Oh no,” Maisie said, “I’m really not any good with engines.”
Scout looked at her, surprised she didn’t jump at a chance to be near Frankie.
“Come anyway,” Naki said, putting a hand on her shoulder to steer her. “We could really use your help.”
Reluctantly, Maisie went with him to the skiff.
Wait a second.
That left Scout alone with her parents. Nakiknewthat! He did this on purpose. Ambushed, once again.
And as if they’d read her thoughts, the bickering began.
