Mamaw came into the room with Lucille, her eyes gleaming. “It was meant to be a surprise, Dora. So please smile and try not to spoil it.” Mamaw brandished a red fishing rod and reel. “Look what I’ve found!” She stroked it gently before she turned to face Nate. “This was your great-grandfather Edward’s fishing rod. He loved fishing and had several, of course. But he used this one almost exclusively at the end. It was his favorite. I know it would have given him great pleasure to teach you to fish. Since he isn’t here, I’m giving it to you, his only great-grandson. I hope you catch as many fish out there on that dock as he did.”

Mamaw handed the rod to him with a dramatic flourish. Carson could see that this moment meant a great deal to her.

In contrast, Nate reflected no emotion at all. He accepted the rod into his arms and looked at it dispassionately.

Dora came to stand beside him, a grin stiff on her face. “Isn’t that wonderful! Say thank you to Mamaw,” she told him.

Still looking at the rod, Nate complied and said flatly, “Thank you.”

“It’s a lovely gift,” Dora said, her voice high with enthusiasm. “Thank you so much, Mamaw. He loves it.”

Mamaw’s face fell slightly at Nate’s lackluster reaction, but she rallied and offered Dora a faint smile. “I hope he enjoys it.”

“Oh, he will!” Dora exclaimed. “Won’t you, Nate?”

Nate did not reply. He lowered the rod and shifted uncomfortably under the attention.

Carson saw Harper leaning against the counter, studying the boy silently. Dora’s determination to be enthusiastic over Mamaw’s thoughtfulness was hard to witness and Carson felt a sudden empathy for her.

“You know, Nate,” Carson said in an even voice, “that is a very good rod. Once you start fishing, you’ll love it. Guaranteed.”

“I don’t know how to fish,” he said with little emotion. “My father knows how to fish but he never taught me. He said I wasn’t old enough and too clumsy.”

Carson shot a glance at Dora to see her face twist in sorrow. Carson cursed Cal for being too damn lazy or uncaring to take his nine-year-old son fishing.

“Nah, you’re the perfect age to learn,” Carson said. “Did you know that Granddaddy taught me when I was even younger than you? We used to sit right out there on the dock and fish for red drum, flounder, all kinds of fish. Then we’d clean them and Lucille would cook them up and serve them swimming in butter with a little lemon and parsley. Remember, Mamaw?”

Mamaw’s eyes warmed at the memory. “Your great-granddaddy is in heaven now, Nate, so it seems only fair that we teach you.”

“What do you say?” Carson asked.

“Say?” Nate asked, not understanding the idiom.

“Do you want us to teach you how to fish?” Carson explained.

“No.”

“Oh,” Carson said, deflated.

“I want you to teach me how to play with the dolphin.”

“Dolphin?” asked Dora. “What dolphin?”

Carson groaned inwardly. She wasn’t prepared to share Delphine with anyone.

“The dolphin that comes to the dock,” Nate answered in his matter-of-fact manner. “It’s Aunt Carson’s dolphin.”

Dora looked at her with confusion. “Your dolphin?”

“No, of course not. It’s just a wild dolphin that sometimes comes by the dock.”

“Her dolphin has a name,” Nate said. “She calls it Delphine. That is a very good name. Delphine plays with Aunt Carson,” Nate informed them with conviction.

Carson looked around the room to see all eyes glued to her. She sighed. “It’s a long story. If you want to hear it, come down to the dock. Fishing is a slow sport and we’ll have lots of time to yak.”

The afternoon proved to be an enormous success. Mamaw passed out large floppy hats and suntan lotion and Lucille packed a picnic lunch of curried chicken sandwiches on whole wheat bread, pickles, tangerines, homemade oatmeal cookies, and plenty of iced sweet tea. Dora prepared Nate his own picnic of accepted food, which he ate without complaint. The women feasted under the shade of the dock’s roof, then began the great fishing venture.

At first there was a lackluster response from Harper. She relayed a litany of excuses—how she didn’t sit in the sun, how she needed to catch up on work, had e-mails to answer. But Mamaw cajoled her to bring her laptop out on the dock, where she could sit in the shade. Harper obliged and settled under the roof of the dock with her iPad. Meanwhile, Mamaw set bait and helped Nate and Dora cast from the dock.

Carson brought out her camera and it felt good to take her first photographs since leaving Los Angeles. Behind the lens of a camera, Carson was able to catch glimpses of her family in close-up, details of their personalities often missed by the naked eye.

She noticed that Harper was skilled at being invisible. While “the little mouse” stayed quiet and tucked away in the corner, people forgot she was there, which allowed her to observe private moments. Her fingers were always tapping at her computer or phone. Carson wondered if she was writing wry vignettes to her mother, something along the lines of “Amusing Tales from the South.” Or “Redneck Riviera.”

Little Nate was very intense about everything he did. Every photo showed him with his brow furrowed and his gaze sharp as Mamaw taught him how to set the bait, cast, reel in. To his credit, Nate observed silently, no matter how long Mamaw took to explain things—and she could get long-winded. When it was his turn to try, his little fingers were nimble.

Dora, in contrast, did not engage. She hovered near Nate, whether out of worry or habit Carson couldn’t be sure. She held her fishing rod in a listless fashion, leaning against the railing and gazing off at the sea. In a close-up shot, Carson caught Dora’s beautiful blue eyes swimming in tears.

By midafternoon, the sun was high and the fish weren’t biting. Not that anyone really cared. Carson had slipped a bit of Firefly sweet-tea vodka into the iced tea to give it a little kick and help loosen the tongues. It worked. As Carson set aside her camera, Harper set aside her iPad and the ladies talked amiably about safe subjects such as movies, recipes, happy memories. Only Nate remained relentlessly alert at the pole. Occasionally Carson would hop up to help him cast again, or Dora would reapply suntan lotion on his arms and face.