where she stayed. This wasn’t their house, after all. Her father had brought the family here because he had some big business deal in the works with Mr. McGovern and Roy Perry. Mr. Perry was a senator with lots of influence and Olivia’s father planned to use that influence to push his project through—a project that was going to add to their finances.
Aunt Sylvie had married into French money and lived in an apartment building she owned right in the middle of Paris. Although Olivia’s father was good at business, they didn’t own two houses or an airplane, and they certainly didn’t own an apartment building in France. Ever since Aunt Sylvie found a happy life and good fortune, Olivia’s father seemed desperate to outdo her. Olivia’s parents were well off, quite well off, but they weren’t rich like the McGoverns. And they weren’t rich like Aunt Sylvie.
When Olivia was finally finished tinkering with the rough edges of her sculpture, she set it on the windowsill to dry and went downstairs to join her family and the McGovern clan. She wasn’t seeing Jesse tonight. Her parents asked that she be there with them for dinner and family time. Sometimes she wondered if they thought she and Jesse were getting too close. If they only knew. Even though she’d seen Jesse a few hours ago, she missed him. And she blamed her mom for that, but it wasn’t her mom’s fault. Tonight, Jesse was helping his uncle fix something on one of the family’s boats.
Olivia glided down the marble steps and into the living room where her brothers, along with their new best friend, Ricky McGovern, were taking apart a skateboard while the moms watched television. Mother wasn’t much for television usually, but since she’d once met Marlin Perkins and had found him to be both delightful and intelligent, she never missed an episode of Wild Kingdom.
Olivia was just getting ready to ask where her father was when he burst through the front door with Mr. McGovern on his heels. Roy Perry entered last.
Her father looked pale when he stepped inside, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Mr. McGovern motioned toward the boys. “Get your jackets, boys. We’re taking the boat out.”
Olivia cast a questioning glance to her mother who addressed Olivia’s dad. “Benjamin, what’s going on?”
His attention went to his sons, Olivia’s brothers. “You two. We’ll need all eyes on deck.” He pointed a finger in their direction, then motioned for them to go upstairs. “Sweatshirts and jeans. It’s chilly on the water tonight. Grab flashlights.”
It was strange to Olivia how men could enter a room visibly upset and bark orders while not bothering to explain their urgency. Later, she was certain they’d complain about their nagging women. When in reality, the women weren’t nagging, they were just asking what in the world was going on. Olivia stood. “Father?”
He exhaled a long breath. “The fishing boats were headed in this evening when an unusually thick fog emerged. One of the boats collided with the ferry.”
“Oh no,” Mrs. McGovern said. “Was anyone injured? Sometimes there are dozens of people on that ferry.”
Olivia’s mother stood and put a hand over her mouth. “Those poor people.”
“One fishing boat made it back, The Portly Miss. The others are still out there ... they’re saying one went down. Maybe two.”
“How many boats are involved? You said one boat hit the ferry,” Mrs. McGovern said.
“Yes, but a second vessel hit the debris, maybe even the wreck. It’s going to be a mess out there.”
Jesse’s family owned The Portly Miss. “What other boats?” Olivia said, her fear growing and her voice rising. “Father, what boats sank?”
“Andy’s Luck ... I think, and … I’m not sure.”
Olivia drew a quick breath. Jesse’s family. Maybe even Jesse. Oh, which boat did he say he’d be working on? Had they finished the repairs and taken the boat out on the water to check it? Her mind was racing to remember details. Olivia slipped her feet into her Mary Janes and went to the coat rack to grab her sweater. “I’m coming with.”
Alton McGovern laughed out loud. Olivia’s father frowned. “And do what?”
McGovern gave her a hard pat on the back. Maybe his intention had been to assure her they had things well in hand, but she wondered if the motion was to demonstrate her weakness. She pitched forward with each snap of his hand. “Let the men handle this, honey. You’d just get in the way.”
His dismissal riled her, but