The first wave came in slowly enough to seem harmless. A glossy speedboat tied up near the fuel pump. Two women photographed their coffees on a lobster crate. A man in sunglasses asked Elias whether the nets were “props or actually vintage.”
By the weekend, the harbor looked like it had been invaded by floating hotels. White yachts, polished catamarans, and expensive rental boats filled every open pocket of water. Their hulls shone like teeth. Their passengers carried tripods, ring lights, and tiny microphones.