"Tut," Tom murmured, giving the girls a significant look. "Little pitchers, Pinocchio. Jeez."

"I didn't really bring anything fancy," he warned, still holding Mack as he walked over the the blanket, listening to her babble about shells and water and whatever story she'd crafted up around them. "Just sandwiches and stuff."

"That's okay, isn't it?" he said to Mack, grinning. "But for you, little lady, I just brought a worm shishkabob and some yummy brussle sprouts."

It takes a moment for it to occur to him that she's probably never seen them, not on the island.