by Barbara Ross
Quentin helped Wyatt off the boat and escorted her up the path that led by me. Even at a distance, I could see the purple circles under her eyes. She stopped and I looked directly at her, intending to convey my sympathy. Tears sprang to her eyes as she nodded her acknowledgment.
Back in the harbor, movers were off-loading everything from the Garbo that wasn’t nailed down, preparing for her scheduled refit at Herndon’s. To my surprise, Wyatt had committed to finishing the project. She and Geoffrey would work closely all summer. With time, would she get past his betrayal? I didn’t think I could. I’d invited Geoffrey to the clambake. “Too many people.” He’d shuddered. “Too soon. Maybe someday.”
Captain George was the last one off the boat. He and his crew would have lunch at the clambake today, something they’d be unable to do for the rest of the season. “How’d it go?” I asked.
“Fine,” he said. “They’re good kids.”
They were good kids, but they were kids. “They’ve got a good captain,” I told him.
People had spread out over the island. They played boccie and volleyball on the great lawn, and lingered around the bar and the gift shop. As always, there was a group around the clambake fire, watching Sonny and his crew cook the meal under seaweed covered by tarps.
I walked back toward the dining pavilion, hugging myself. The day was perfect, the sun bright, the sky a cloudless blue. This was what I loved most about the Snowden Family Clambake—sharing Morrow Island with our guests. Windsholme was built as an exclusive retreat for a small family. My parents had made it available to thousands of people a year for the cost of a boat ride and a meal. Sharing was always better than hoarding.
I spotted Chris watching Page and Vanessa as they ran up the island hill. I went to him and he put an arm around me, hugging me to him.
“Have you asked Emmy about Vanessa’s father?” I said.
“Not yet.” He stepped back to look me in the eyes. “I’ve applied to visit my brother in prison. That seems like the right first step.”
“Good.” I hugged him tight and then left him and headed back toward the dining pavilion. I had work to do.
On the way down the hill, I met Wyatt coming up alone. She greeted me with a hug. “Thank you for all you did for me this week.”
I hugged her back. “I’m sorry it turned out the way it did, Wyatt.”
She let me go. “And I’m sorry, Julia, for the way I treated you in high school. I’ve thought about it so often since. I was an unbelievable jerk back then.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Do you still see Lainey, Amber, and Melissa?”
She smiled for the first time in days. “We try. We’re all so busy. Lainey’s a pediatrician in Pittsburgh and—”
She continued on about her friends, where they lived and what jobs they held, but I didn’t hear her. Lainey, a pediatrician. I had thought Lainey was stupid, and I was sure I’d never bothered to hide it. Maybe I was as guilty as they were. Maybe we’re all jerks in high school.
From a discreet distance, I watched Mom in the gift shop, answering questions, chatting, taking money, giving change. My chest swelled and my throat constricted. Mom was back where she belonged, and Page and Jack would spend their childhood summers on the island, just as Livvie and I had, and as Mom had, and her mother before her, and back to Victorian times.
When the shop emptied, I stepped up to the counter. I could see baby Jack dozing in his portable crib in the corner, oblivious to the hubbub.
“Not many buyers on dress rehearsal day,” Mom said. “But everyone seems to like the new merchandise.” She spoke with such pride.
“I’d like to hire Emmy Bailey for one of the waitstaff openings,” I said.
“That’s a good idea.”
“She can’t keep doing double shifts at Crowley’s. Not with her child care situation. She’d have to bring her kids out here with her to make it work.”
Mom’s brow creased. “Honey, I’m not sure I’m up to that. It will be hard enough to manage Jack if he happens to wake up cranky during prime shopping time.”
“I know. I’ve thought of that. What if we hire a high school kid to watch all the children? You could supervise.”
Her frown relaxed. “That would work. I think between you and me, Livvie, Sonny, and Emmy, we could keep enough of an eye.”
The clambake staff would keep an eye on them too, if my own childhood was any indication. “I’m glad you think so.”
I dropped in on Livvie in the kitchen. Of all my worries about opening, she and her cooks were the least of it. Though Livvie had only taken over the task the year before, the three other women were all pros with many years of experience putting out a big meal from the small kitchen. Livvie spotted me lingering in the doorway and gave a nod they were ready.
Standing under the pole that held the ship’s bell that would call folks to lunch, I pantomimed to Sonny, asking if the lobsters were done He gave me the thumbs-up and I rang the bell.
The guests found their way back from wherever they’d been and settled at the picnic tables in the dining pavilion and scattered about the lawn. The waitstaff began running with cups of steaming clam chowder direct from the kitchen. The JOATs followed with pitchers of lemonade and iced tea for each table.
It went pretty well from my perspective. I was nervous because we were still short a few staff. Filling positions had been difficult in a tight summer job market. I kept my eye on the JOATs. Theirs was the entry-level job on the island; they were the newest and youngest. A couple of them did get confused about which tables they were assigned, and some groups ended up with four pitchers of drinks, others with none, but it was all cheerfully fixed by the waitstaff, or by the guests.
The bowls were cleared and the main course appeared—twin lobsters, steamed clams called steamers, corn, potato, onion, and an egg. From Livvie’s kitchen the waitstaff brought containers of hot clam broth, melted butter, and bowls for shells.
And then the staff sat at the tables especially reserved for them. The dress rehearsal was the only time they would get to eat the clambake meal. After today, Livvie and her crew would serve a family-style meal of something delicious but inexpensive during the time between when the lunch guests left and the dinner guests arrived.
I circulated among the tables, feeling so lucky to have so many of our regular employees return. On any other day, tourists would be asking for my help, and I’d show them how to dredge the clams in the hot broth to clean them, or how to use a nutcracker to get the tasty meat from the lobster’s claws. But today’s guests were lobster-eating pros, as the almost silent crowd attested, intent on their meals.
Le Roi circulated too, winding around the guests’ ankles, waiting for the inevitable lobster treats snuck to him under the table. He was back on his island, truly the king.
I spotted Lieutenant Binder at a table with Quentin and Wyatt. There was a fourth tray on the table, with a barely eaten lobster, but Flynn wasn’t with them.
I found him on the cliffs on the north side of the island, facing the mouth of the outer harbor. I went and stood next to him, hating to intrude, but also hating to neglect a friend in need.
“She’s gone.” He kept his eyes on the horizon.
“I’m sorry. Where?”
“Flying to Jacksonville to be the private chef on another yacht. The seafaring life has hijacked her.”
“I think it’s the sense of family she gets from being part of the crew.” I realized as soon as the words came out of my mouth I was saying the life she’d created with Flynn hadn’t been enough for her. “And the adventure,” I added.
He didn’t say anything, just stared out at the horizon. The poor man. I looped my arm through his and stood with him. I thought he’d pull away, but he didn’t. We’d come a long way from the beginning of our relationship. Finally, he said, “Let’s go back.”
I helped clear the trays and dump the shells. Every piece of garbage we created had to come off the island with us. Livvie’
s cooks sent out blueberry grunt swimming in vanilla ice cream and everyone sat down again.
I took my dessert to Mom’s table, ready to dig in, but she motioned me to follow her. We walked up to Windsholme and stood outside the ugly, orange fence. There was a commotion on the long front porch. Page and Vanessa ran up and down it, screaming, “The ghost! The ghost! We saw her!”
“Girls!” Mom projected to be heard over their shouting. “Come away from there. It’s dangerous.”
The sound of her voice brought me back to my own childhood. I’d heard those words when she ordered Livvie and me off that porch. The mansion, closed up and abandoned, had been forbidden to us too. Then it had only been dangerous because it was neglected. Now it was also damaged by fire.
Page and Vanessa had stopped running and were slowly making their way to the gap in the fence.
“I’m going to pay Wyatt’s firm to do the architectural study,” Mom said. “We’re going to fix up Windsholme.”
I’d been opposed to the project, yet strangely, I felt a weight lift off me. “Will you restore or renovate?”
“Renovate,” she answered.
“Really?” That was a surprise. “Do you plan to live there in the summer?”
“Maybe,” she answered. “In an apartment upstairs. But I want to renovate to realize your dream—to add wedding receptions, and corporate retreats, and other events to the clambake. The business is supporting three families now, not one. We need to expand.”
I stood, openmouthed. It was a brilliant solution. “Earlier today, I was thinking that the best thing about Morrow Island is sharing it,” I told her.
“Exactly.” Mom put her arm around me and leaned in for the hug. Page and Vanessa danced around us.
“I love you, Mom,” I said. “I love this.”
Recipes
Tarragon Ricotta Gnocchi with Lobster Velouté
The yacht Garbo is in Busman’s Harbor, Maine, so naturally lobster is on the menu. The velouté was one of the signature dishes at Genevieve’s Portland restaurant, which is why it tastes so familiar to Julia.
Ingredients for the Gnocchi
1 16-ounce container ricotta
¾ cup Parmesan cheese
¾ cup Romano cheese
¼ teaspoon salt
teaspoon pepper
2 eggs, beaten
¾ cup all-purpose flour
1 Tablespoon fresh tarragon, finely chopped
Ingredients for the Velouté
3 Tablespoons butter
3 Tablespoons flour
1½ cups lobster stock
⅓ cup heavy cream
4–6 ounces cooked lobster, chopped
fresh tarragon or parsley for garnish
Instructions
Heat oven to 350 degrees. Boil and salt 4–6 quarts of water in a pot. Grease a small baking dish with butter.
In a bowl, stir together the ricotta, grated cheeses, salt, pepper, and eggs. Stir in the flour in ¼-cup helpings until it reaches the consistency of a sticky dough. Using a tablespoon, drop rounded spoonfuls into the boiling water. When the gnocchi rise back to the top of the water, cook for about a minute more, then remove to the baking dish using a slotted spoon.
In a saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the flour and stir together to create a roux. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes being careful to not allow the roux to brown. Whisk in the stock and cook until the velouté coats the back of a spoon. Stir in the cream and the lobster meat and cook for one minute more. Keep warm.
Pour ½ cup of the velouté over the gnocchi, reserving the remainder in the pan. Put the gnocchi in the oven and bake for 15 to 20 minutes, until the sauce is barely bubbling.
To serve, put a puddle of the reserved velouté on a plate. Add 3 to 4 gnocchi and garnish. Serve immediately.
Serves 4.
Herbed Halibut Sous-Vide
Genevieve cooks the halibut to perfection using a sous-vide device. While they were once very pricey and therefore used only by professional chefs, sous-vide devices are now far more affordable for home cooks.
Ingredients
1½ pounds halibut filet at least 1-inch thick
2 Tablespoons chopped dill
2 Tablespoons chopped chives
4 Tablespoons softened butter, divided
½ Tablespoon lemon zest
juice from a large lemon
salt
pepper
Instructions
Following the instructions for your sous-vide device, fill a pot of water and set the temperature to 105 degrees F. Bring the water up to temp.
Cut the fish into four individual portions. Rub each portion with ½ Tablespoon butter, then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Spread ½ Tablespoon dill and ½ Tablespoon chives over each portion.
Put each portion in a zipper-sealable plastic bag and lower into the water, sealing at the last possible moment so the water pushes the air out of the bag. Or, you can vacuum seal the bags using the “moist” setting, if you have the proper equipment.
Set the timer for 35 minutes.
When the timer goes off, remove the fish from the bags and reserve any juices that have accumulated.
Heat a large frying pan over medium high heat. Melt the remaining 2 Tablespoons of butter and stir in the lemon zest. Add the fish and sear quickly, about 1 minute per side. Add the lemon juice and accumulated juices to the pan and cook 1 minute longer.
Put fish on a warmed platter and pour the sauce over. Serve with lemon wedges.
Serves 4.
Oven-Roasted Beer-Can Chicken with Roasted Potatoes
Livvie makes this dinner when her mother calls an impromptu family meeting. It’s a quick meal that pleases any crowd. Often, Beer-Can Chicken is made on the barbecue with indirect heat, but Sonny is the griller in the family, and Livvie knows he won’t be back from Morrow Island until late, so she makes it in the oven. While Livvie cooks it using an actual beer can, you can purchase a device called a beer can chicken holder from almost any kitchenware vendor.
Ingredients for the Chicken
1 whole chicken, 4–4½ pounds
12-ounce beer can—any brand you have on hand will do
olive oil for rubbing over the chicken
Livvie’s rub for the chicken (or substitute your own rub)
Livvie used the following ingredients for the rub:
2 Tablespoons kosher salt
½ Tablespoon black pepper
1 Tablespoon paprika
1 Tablespoon dried oregano
½ Tablespoon ground coriander
½ Tablespoon garlic powder
½ Tablespoon onion powder
½ Tablespoon cumin
1 teaspoon jalapeno powder (optional)
½ teaspoon lemon zest
½ teaspoon lime zest
Instructions
Preheat oven and sheet pan to 400 degrees. Stir together rub ingredients. Rinse chicken and pat dry. Rub chicken all over, inside and out, with olive oil. Rub chicken all over, inside and out, with the rub mix. Open beer can and pour out or drink 4 ounces, leaving 8 ounces in the can. Stand chicken on beer can by placing the neck over the can. Place on a rimmed baking sheet. Roast in oven for 1 hour.
Ingredients for the Potatoes
2–2½ pounds fingerling potatoes
olive oil
salt
black pepper
dried oregano
garlic
2 Tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
Instructions
Cut potatoes into ½-inch pieces. Toss with olive oil and seasonings. When chicken is done, remove from baking sheet pan and place on platter. Toss potatoes with drippings left in sheet pan and roast 20 to 25 minutes.
Serves 6 to 8.
Acknowledgments
The Age of the Ship is long over, but in Maine it remains closer to us than in many other places. Ships, from warships to mega-yachts to beautiful sailboats to wooden boats, are built in Maine, contributing to the economy and the v
ibrancy of the coast. As I wrote this book, I was amused by how many of our normal, everyday terms come to us from our ancestors’ dependence on boats, and how deeply that past is embedded in each of us.
Two books steered me through the world of super-yachts and mega-yachts. The Insiders’ Guide to Becoming a Yacht Stewardess, by Julie Perry, was an invaluable resource, chock-full of colorful anecdotes and practical advice. Mediterranean Summer, by David Shalleck with Erol Munuz, gave me a good sense of the challenges and rewards of Genevieve’s life aboard the Garbo.
I would like to thank the usual crew, who keep me focused and writing. First and foremost, my writers’ group, to whom this book is dedicated. Thank you also to the Wicked Cozy Authors, including Maddie Day, Jessica Ellicott, J. A. Hennrikus, Liz Mugavero, with a special shout-out to Sherry Harris, who once again provided valuable feedback while working on her own addition to the Sarah Winston Garage Sale Mysteries. Thanks, as always, to the Maine Crime Writers, especially to Kaitlyn Dunnett, Kate Flora, and Lea Wait.
A big thank-you to everyone at Kensington for their tremendous support for the Maine Clambake series, especially my editor, John Scognamiglio, Karen Auerbach, Robin Cook, and cover artist Ben Perini. And a special thank-you to my agent, John Talbot.
Finally, to my family, who have been endlessly supportive and loving: Rob Carito, Sunny Carito, Viola Carito, Kate Donius, and Luke Donius, and especially to my husband Bill Carito who creates the Maine Clambake series recipes. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
