A Fatal Fleece by Sally Goldenbaum

asked.
    “I threw it out,” Finnegan snapped. “Damn thing broke right in half.”
    Gabby frowned but kept her thoughts to herself.
    At least it wasn’t Gabby who broke in half, Nell thought. Finnegan may have unintentionally done them all a huge favor—skateboards and summer traffic didn’t mix very well. The shopkeepers’ association finally had banned them from Harbor Road during busy hours. She looked again at Gabby’s skinned knees and Finn’s attempt at bandaging. He’d tried to help her, tried to treat the superficial wounds. The man was a conundrum, but a kind one.
    “It’s okay, Finn. No problem. I’ve got another board back home,” Gabby said.
    Finnegan didn’t look worried about the skateboard, but his concern over the young girl was written all over his wrinkled face. “So you’ll be okay, kid? These ladies’ll get you home safe. They’re good folks.”
    Gabby nodded. She held up the small cooler and said to no one in particular, “We went fishing after I crashed. Three cod. Finn thought it’d make me feel better.”
    “In the dark?” Birdie placed one hand on Gabby’s shoulder, as if to grab on tightly if she made any move to run. But it was Finnegan her eyes bore into. What were you thinking, you crazy fool? they said.
    “Don’t get your innards in an uproar, Birdie Favazza. It was her choice. The girl’s never fished. Not once.” He looked at Cass. “Patrick Halloran woulda done the same thing, and you damn well know it. Can’t let a girl grow up without catching a cod. It ain’t right.”
    “You’re right, Finn,” Cass said. “A right of passage, my dad called it.” She placed a calming hand on his arm. “I remember fishing off your dock myself when I was a kid. Probably at night.”
    “We could see all the way across the harbor,” Gabby said. “There were boats out there, and that one cool yacht with the bright blue stripe. Right, Finn?”
    “I s’pose. Now, you sure you’re okay, kid?” he said, looking down at her knees.
    Gabby frowned, one hand on her hip. “Course I am. I’ll have mine off sooner than yours.” She wrinkled her nose at him.
    Birdie looked at the bandage on the side of Finn’s head. “I hope you’re taking care of that wound, Finnegan.”
    Cass said, “The other guy looks a lot worse, I hear. Broken nose, no less.”
    “Damn right, Cassoulet.” He managed a smile. “Bums have no right to take over my place.”
    He looked down at Gabby, then back at the women hovering around him. “Important thing is keeping kids like Gabby safe. I’ve no use for the riffraff that hangs around here.”
    Gabby looked at all of them, and for the first time seemed to sense the worry that had blanketed the group. Her dark brows pulled together and her voice softened when she looked at Birdie. “Were you guys worried, Nonna? It’s not like Central Park or anything. I was okay. I know how to watch out for myself.”
    Nonna . The word was still startling. It was a new identity, one that was foreign to Birdie just days ago. Nell looked over at her friend.
    Birdie took a deep breath. And then she wrapped Gabby in a tight hug. “You’re freezing, child,” she said. “It’s time to go home.”
    “I told her as much. Said you’d be wicked worried.” Finnegan shifted from one foot to the other. His worn black boots shuffled gravel as they moved. He looked down at the young girl at his side, and his craggy face softened. “I’ll turn you into a fisherman yet, kid. You’ll be as good as Cassoulet in no time.”
    He nodded as if affirming his own words, then turned aroundand walked toward the gate that opened into his land. His head was low, his shoulders hunched.
    In the distance, waving weeds were silhouetted against the lights of the art colony, and off to the right, the sea pounded a steady beat against the shore.
    Birdie’s eyes trailed the lone figure as he made his way into the night. She took a step to follow him, her small sneakers crunching on