As Edward was shovelling pie into his mouth, he announced, "I want to go out to East Hampton with you guys in August. Maybe for a couple weeks till school starts."

I glanced at Susan, then informed Edward and Carolyn, "We may be selling the East Hampton house, and it may be gone before August." Edward looked up from his pie as though he hadn't heard me correctly. "Selling it? Selling the summer house? Why?"

"Tax problems," I explained.

"Oh… I was sort of looking forward to going out there."

"Well, you sort of have to make other plans, Skipper."

"Oh."

Edward seemed vaguely concerned, the way children are when adults announce money problems. Carolyn, I noticed, was eyeing Susan and me as if she were trying to find the real meaning in this. For all her interest in the disadvantaged, she could barely fathom money problems. Perhaps she thought her parents were getting divorced.

We finished dinner, and Carolyn and I walked down toward the pier where the Paumanok was berthed. Susan and Edward went to the parking field to bring the Bronco closer to the pier.

I put my arm around Carolyn as we walked and she put her arm around me. She said, "We don't talk much anymore, Dad."

"You're not around much."

"We can talk on the phone."

"We can. We will."

After a few seconds she said, "There's been a lot of things going on around here."

"Yes, but nothing to be concerned about."

After a few seconds, she asked, "Are things all right between you and Mom?" I saw that coming and replied without hesitation, "The relationship between a husband and wife is no one's business, Cari, not even their children's. Remember that when you marry."

"I'm not sure that's true. I have a direct interest in your happiness and well-being. I love you both."

Carolyn, being the good Stanhope and Sutter that she is, does not say things such as that easily. I replied, "And we love you and Skipper. But our happiness and well-being are not necessarily tied to our marriage." "Then you are having problems?"

"Yes, but not with each other. We already told you about the other thing.

Subject closed."

We reached the pier and stood looking at each other. Carolyn said, "Mom is not herself. I can tell." I didn't reply.

She added, "And neither are you."

"I'm myself tonight." I kissed her on the cheek. The Bronco came around, and we all unloaded our provisions onto the dock. Susan parked the Bronco again while Carolyn passed things to Edward, who handed them to me on the boat. We did all this without my having to say anything because this was my crew, and we'd done this hundreds of times over the years.

Susan hopped aboard and began putting things where they belonged in the galley, on the deck, and in the cabin. The kids jumped aboard and helped me as I went about the business of making ready to sail.

With about an hour of sunlight left, we cast off and I used the engine to get us away from the piers and the moored boats, then I shut off the engine and we set sail. Edward hoisted the mainsail, Carolyn the staysail, and Susan set the spinnaker.

There was a nice southerly blowing, and once we cleared Plum Point, it took us north toward the open waters of the Sound.

The Morgan is ideal for the Long Island Sound, perfect for trips up to Nantucket, Martha's Vineyard, Block Island, and out to Provincetown. The Morgan's major drawback in the bays and coves is its deep keel, but that's what makes it a safe family boat on the open seas. In fact, the original Morgan was developed by J. P. Morgan for his children, and he designed it with safety in mind. It's sort of an ideal club boat: good-looking and prestigious without being pretentious.

It would actually be possible for me to make a trans-Atlantic crossing with this boat, but not advisable. And now that my children are older, the plodding Morgan may not be what I need. What I need, really need, is a sleek Allied fifty-five footer that will take me anywhere in the world. I would also need a crew, of course, as few as two people, preferably three or four. I imagined myself at the helm of the Allied, heading east toward Europe, a rising sun on the horizon, the high bow cutting through the waves. I saw my crew at their tasks: Sally Grace mopping the deck, Beryl Carlisle holding my coffee mug, and the delicious Terri massaging my neck. Down in the galley is Sally Ann of the Stardust Diner making breakfast, and impaled on the bowsprit is the stuffed head of Zanzibar.

I took the Morgan west, past Bayville, where I could make out the lights of the infamous Rusty Hawsehole. I continued west into the setting sun, around Matinecoc Point and then south, tacking into the wind toward Hempstead Harbor. I skirted the west shore of the harbour, sailing past Castle Gould and Falaise, then turned in toward the centre of the harbour where I ordered the sails lowered. Carolyn and Edward let out the anchor, and we grabbed fast, the boat drifting around its mooring with the wind and the incoming tide. In the distance, on the eastern shore, the village of Sea Cliff clung to tall bluffs, its Victorian houses barely visible in the fading light. A few hundred yards north of Sea Cliff was Garvie's Point, where Susan and I had made love on the beach.

The sun had sunk below the high bluffs of Sands Point, and I could see stars beginning to appear in the eastern sky. I watched as they blinked on, east to west behind the spreading purple.

None of us spoke, we just broke out some beer and drank, watching the greatest show on earth, a nautical sunset: the rose-hued clouds, the starry black fringe on the far horizon, the rising moon, and the gulls gliding over the darkening waters.

You have to pay close attention to a nautical sunset or you will miss the subtleties of what is happening. So we sat quietly for a long time, me, Susan, Carolyn, and Edward, until finally, by silent consensus, we agreed it was night. Susan said, "Cari, let's make some tea." They went below. I climbed onto the cabin deck and steadied myself against the mast. Edward followed. We both stared out into the black waters. I said to him, "Are you looking forward to college?"

"No."

"They will be the best years of your life."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me."

"Everyone is right."

He shrugged. Presently, he asked, "What kind of tax problems?"

"I just owe some taxes."

"Oh… and you have to sell the house?"

"I think so."

"Can you wait?"

I smiled. "For what? Until you use it in August?"

"No… until I'm twenty-one. I can give you the money in my trust fund when I'm twenty-one."

I didn't reply, because I couldn't speak.

He said, "I don't need all of it."

I cleared my throat. "Well, Grandma and Grandpa Stanhope meant that money to be for you." And they'd have apoplexy if you gave it to me. "It's gonna be my money. I want to give it to you if you need it."

"I'll let you know."

"Okay."

We listened to the waves breaking against the distant shore. I looked out to the east. Farther north of Garvie's Point, about five hundred yards from where we lay at anchor, I could see the lights of the big white colonial house on the small headland. I pointed to it. "Do you see that big house there?" "Yes."

"There was a long pier there once, beginning between those two tall cedars. See them?"

"Yes."

"Imagine where the pier ended. Do you see anything there?" He looked in the black water, then said, "No."

"Look harder, Skipper. Squint. Concentrate."

He stared, then said, "Maybe… something…"

"What?"

"I don't know. When I stare, I think I can see… what do you call that stuff…?

That algae stuff that grows in the water and glows kind of spooky green?

Bioluminescence…? Yeah. I see it."

"Do you? Good."

"What about it?"