Chapter NineteenThe knock broke Sam out of his nap. He'd been dreaming he was riding a huge flaming red bird as it dive-bombed the Golden Grove square. The bird had Margo's face and would look back at him, sneering, calling him the Great Agnes Hemingway, then swoop down on the screaming, scattering crowd. Flames had shot out of her mouth and were burning Copperfield's bookstore when he woke up.
He was disoriented at first until he remembered he was on his boat. The knock came again. Pushing up from the foam cushions of the cabin couch, he rubbed a hand through his hair, blinking. Weird dream. He looked through the small side window of the cabin to see a familiar freshly scrubbed, blue-eyed face peering back at him from the dock.
He scrambled through the cabin door. “Ellie, sorry. Come in
