Iturn toward the voice and am unsurprised to find Charlie astride a yellow Jet Ski. “It’s a unicorn.” “Unicorns don’t have wings,” he says, eyeing me with a lazy smile. “Pegasuses don’t have horns.” He tilts his head in agreement, and then waves up at the deck. “Good afternoon, Nan.” “Nice to see you again, Charlie.” She might as well be licking her chops. He points to the binoculars. “Spying on me?” “I was bird-watching.”
