The children, tousle-headed and heavy-eyed with sleep, were munching on molasses cookies, one of their favorite breakfasts. Now three of his four chairs were occupied, one by his own weathered behind, and the others by the slender rear ends of his grandchildren, seven-year-old Bobby and six-year-old Brittany. So he’d turned the table upside down in his dory, lashed the chairs into position between the legs, and rowed the entire load back to the northernmost point of Heavenly Daze. Even after she agreed to toss in the other three chairs without charge, he had half a mind to leave the excess furniture on the shore, until his Yankee thriftiness rebelled against such waste. At the time he’d groused plenty because he only had one bottom and therefore needed only one chair, but the woman wouldn’t budge. CHAPTER ONE On Saturday morning, Salt Gribbon looked across the expanse of his small home in the lighthouse and thanked God, not for the first time, that the busybody at the yard sale in Wells had insisted on selling the wooden table with its four matching chairs.
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