Jennie Hawkins always considered herself an average woman, but lately she'd started to suspect she was more restless than most. The only daughter of a Boston bootmaker, her days were as routine as clockwork—rise early, take tea with Mama, mend stockings, help tend the store, listen for Papa's footsteps at the stroke of six. Sometimes, Jennie would catch herself watching the horizon from her attic window, imagining it was the rolling tide rather than baked city rooftops. She craved something that wasn't the same every day, something sunlit and wild.