Kiss River by Diane Chamberlain

said.
    “I…I…” Gina stammered. “That’s so nice of you.” She looked at Lacey. “Are you sure that’s all right with you? Do you two want to talk it over in private, or—”
    “It’s great with me,” Lacey interrupted her.
    “You have to charge more than that, though,” Gina said. “I’m not that broke. I can—”
    “It’s a token amount,” Clay said. “We’ll put it into the keeper’s house conservation fund.” He was aware he was not acting rationally, but he hadn’t felt rational in a long, long time.
    “Well, thanks,” Gina said. Her hand shook a bit as she lifted her glass of orange juice to her lips. She took a sip, then set it down again. “That’s a huge relief to me. I really appreciate it.”
    “No problem,” Clay said. He extracted another waffle from the iron and offered it to Gina, but she shook her head again. He put it on his own plate, then poured more batter into the grill.
    “Do you mind a check from my bank in Bellingham?” Gina asked. “Or I could get some money from an ATM and—”
    “A check is fine,” Clay said.
    Gina sat back from the table, finished with her breakfast but not with conversation. “I thought I would call your father today, and see if I could talk to him about raising the lens.” She looked at him, then Lacey. “It’s been ten years, right? Maybe he and the other people who objected to raising it ten years ago have mellowed about the idea by now.”
    “You’re talking about our father,” Clay said with a halfhearted laugh. “Mellow, he ain’t.”
    “You’re a fine one to talk,” Lacey said. “You’re exactly like him.”
    He couldn’t argue with her. As much as Lacey looked like their mother, he resembled Alec O’Neill. So much so, that when one of the old-timers spotted him and Lacey together in the grocery store a few weeks ago, he’d thought they were Alec and Annie. It had taken them quite a while to convince him of the truth. And although Clay didn’t like to admit it, he was no more mellow than their father. He had both Alec’s wiry build and the bundled, hyper sort of energy that accompanied it.
    “Dad’s off this afternoon,” Lacey said. “I think you should just go to his house and talk to him.”
    “Call first, though,” Clay said.
    “I don’t think she should call,” Lacey said, her tone more pondering than argumentative. “He might just blow her off if she calls.”
    “He can blow her off just as easily at his front door,” Clay argued. His father would be kind about it, but it was doubtful he’d have any interest in talking to anyone about the Kiss River light.
    Gina followed their conversation as if watching a Ping-Pong match.
    “Well, we can call him, then,” Lacey said.
    “No, no.” Gina held up a hand. “You two have done too much already. Let me take care of this on my own. Okay?” She looked at each of them in turn, and they nodded. “Can you give me his address and phone number?” she asked.
    Lacey stood and walked over to one of the kitchen drawers, then returned to the table with a notepad. In her seat again, she jotted down the address. “I’d go with you,” she said, “but today I have two kids to tutor, a three-hour shift on the crisis hot line and an appointment to donate blood at two-thirty. Not to mention bread to bake.”
    Gina stared at her. “I thought today was your day off?”
    Lacey dismissed her question with a wave of her hand. “It’s all fun for me,” she said.
    “Where do you do your stained glass?” Gina asked.
    “I share a studio in Kill Devil Hills,” she said. “But I do some work here, too, in the sunroom.” She pushed the pad across the table to Gina. “His house is on the sound in Sanderling.” Pointing to the camera hanging around Gina’s neck, she added, “You know, he used to take pictures constantly of the lighthouse. He’ll have a thousand for you to look at if you ask him.”
    “What sort of pictures?” Gina looked intrigued.
    “You