We were putting the roof back on, when who should come screeching around the corner of the barn, wailing like a jealous banshee, but Daisy. I opened my mouth to holler at her; when I closed it, it was gum on gum. The next morning, there were 28 new icebergs out in the middle of the bay. When he finds a photograph of his grandfather as a young man, Liam is full of questions. But that's just fine, because Grampy has a story to spin with every answer. On a fall day in 1962, he tells Liam, he had a run-in with a nasty girl in search of a dance partner; Daisy was her name. What follows is a tall tale about Grampy's tango with a hurricane, and all those signs of aging—the wrinkles, the stooped back, the croaky voice, the false teeth—can be chalked up to Daisy's persistence and Grampy's refusal to dance. Of course, it takes a talking to from Nana to get that Daisy to blow off elsewhere.