“Want to try one?” he asks, eyes sparkling, holding a clam out to me. “Raw?” I’m not even bothering to hide how much that grosses me out. He...laughs. “It’s a rite of passage in my family. You have to eat them raw or you’re disowned.” “Well, in my family we tend to broil our shellfish, but thanks for the offer,” I say. He sets his clam gear high on the sand, out of the surf, then sits back on his heels and looks at me appraisingly. “What?” I ask, suspiciously. “Nothing,” he says, but his brown. He trimmed her out and we moved through the smooth water at about twenty knots.I stayed in the cockpit and finished rigging for fishing. I had the lures we would start with tied on and the rods in the holders. Mom, Meg and Amanda sat outside watching as I scurried around the cockpit.Dad came out of the cabin, asked if I needed any help and went up to the bridge when I said I was all set."Jen, you're amazing," Meg said. "Is there anything you can't do on the boat?" Not really, I don't like. More

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