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belly of a porpoise. I haveto remove several layers of old paint, but once she’s scraped down smooth and painted over, she’ll look good as new.
    “I’ll live here?” Aaron asks quietly.
    The little catch in his voice makes me turn. I don’t know if he’s even expecting an answer, but I nod anyway.
    “Welcome home,” I say.

T he first night, Aaron asks to go to bed early, even though we had rented a family movie and I made popcorn. We watch the movie without him, but it doesn’t feel right — like having a birthday party without the guest of honor.
    “It’s been a long day for him,” Mom says, collecting our popcorn bowls after the movie. “Aaron probably just wanted a little time by himself to unpack and get used to things.”
    “Tess, maybe you could show Aaron the island in the morning?” Dad adds, turning off the TV. “And introduce him around?”
    “Sure,” I say. “I already know lots of places to show him.”
    “Can I come, too?” Libby asks. “ Please? ”
    “Not this time,” Mom says.
    Libby pouts. “If Tess gets to take Aaron somewhere all by herself, I want a turn with just me and him, too!”
    As Mom takes Libby upstairs to bed, I follow Dad into the kitchen. “Dad?” I lower my voice, even though no one’s close enough to listen. “What’ll happen if Aaron doesn’t want to stay with us? Can he ask Natalie to move him?”
    “Have you given up already?” he asks, pouring water into the coffeemaker for morning.
    “No, but he doesn’t seem to like it here. What if this doesn’t work out?”
    Dad shrugs. “I don’t know for sure, but I suspect if he’s miserable, Natalie might try to move him somewhere else. Island living isn’t for everyone.”
    “If that happens, can we get another kid before the summer’s over?”
    Dad frowns, spooning coffee into the filter. “No. We’re not gonna keep borrowing other people’s children just so we don’t have to leave this place.”
    “But —”
    “No buts.” He lets the top of the coffeemaker slam closed. “Moving isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a person, Tess.”
    I back slowly out of the kitchen, letting him think he got the last word. But in my head I answer, Yes, it is.
     
    In the morning, I take Aaron to my favorite places on the island, hoping to find one he’ll like.
    At Chandler’s Cove, I lead the way, climbing over huge pieces of driftwood, bleached white as bones. Aaron walks around them.
    From the top of Strout’s Hill, I show him how far you can see up and down the bay. It’s a beautiful morning, the waves glittering with sun. I point out the lighthouse and two sailboats, pale as tissue paper, racing out to sea. “Do you see how the sparkles get thicker and closer together the farther out you look? Doesn’t it look like those sailboats are sledding on snow? But don’t keep looking, because if you watch a boat until it’s out of sight, you’ll never see it again.” I turn away before the boats disappear from view, but I don’t need to worry, because Aaron’s checking his watch.
    “When does your family eat lunch?” he asks.
    “Noontime, but we could stop at the store and get a snack. Come on!”
    As we head back to the main road, I introduce Aaron to everyone I know, even the summer people, like Mrs. Palozzi, who is painting her front steps gray.
    “Nice to meet you, Aaron,” she says.
    He kicks a little rock at his feet. “Hi.”
    “Did you have a good winter, Tess?” Mrs. Palozzi asks. “It’s so nice to be back here. Though I can’t believe how noisy the birds were this morning. Did you hear them? I had to get out of bed at five o’clock to close my windows!”
    Some summer people get called “summer complaints” by the islanders because they come to Bethsaida to get away from their winter lives, then spend the whole summer complaining that the island’s not more like the place they left behind.
    Painted birthday-cake colors, the line of summer cottages looks like a row of