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Abby helped her mother pack, and carried her suitcases across the way to the little yellow house. Next, came the perishable items from the refrigerator. Izumi hadn't told her daughter this, but she was half afraid the newlyweds weren't eating right, and this was her way of ensuring that they did-- at least, for as long as she was there.

"I'm putting your things in my room," said Abby, taking her mother to the bedroom.

Izumi hesitated for a moment and took a quick look into Jake's room at the end of the hall. The sparsely furnished bedroom was in stark contrast to Abby's cluttered and cozy room.

"I only have a single mattress," observed Abby, "so Jake and I will have to trade beds. I think he has one of your old mattresses."

Just then, the phone rang. It was the marina.

"They need a French translator," related Abby, grabbing her jeep keys.

"You go ahead," said Izumi, "I'll be fine."

"Jake and I have therapy after work," informed Abby, "so we probably won't be back until about seven. Dr. Jacoby is moving it up a day early, because he's taking a short vacation this week."

"Run along," urged Izumi.

The summer sun glinted brilliantly on Three Mile Bay as Abby drove to the marina. Gulls sailed overhead, while vacationers walked alongside the road-- many carrying fishing rods. Abby found a vacant parking space in the marina parking lot and headed straight for the tackle shop where her client was waiting.

"His name is Gustave Laurent," explained Mr. Winkler, meeting her at the main entrance, "and he doesn't speak a word of English. Dennis is out on the dock with him right now."

Jake, who was in the back of the store, watched as Abby walked out to the dock.

"No, that's all wrong!" the new fly instructor was saying. "Hold the line like this! L i k e t h i s!" he said slowly and in a loud voice.

"Unless he spontaneously learns English," interjected Abby, "I don't think that's going to help."

"You're the translator?!" Dennis exclaimed in astonishment, releasing his hold on Mr. Laurent's tangled line.

"Le monde est petit [It's a small world]," replied the young woman.

"Is there anything you can't do?" he smiled in admiration.

"I'll let you know," answered Abby, trying to resist the urge to smile in return, for she still hadn't gotten over their disagreement last night.

Upon hearing his native tongue, Mr. Laurent began rattling off mile-a-minute French that kept even Abby on her toes. When the fly casting lesson was over, she prepared to leave.

"I hope you're not holding anything against me for speaking up yesterday evening," said Dennis.

"Do you take it back?" asked Abby.

"Not a word of it," replied Dennis.

"Then I have nothing to say," she responded, going back into the tackle shop. "Jake, I invited Mom to stay with us while Dad and Uncle Terry are gone," she told him, as Dennis came in to put away his fishing gear.

"Okay," shrugged Jake.

"I'll see you at five, if I'm not here already," said Abby. "Remember, we have an appointment, today."

"I know," he replied, returning to his work.
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