"Then what have I been putting on my arms?" Lori asked.
Carrie looked at Lori's arms. Lori looked at her own.
The beach at 59th was busy—umbrellas and pop-up tents staked out in clusters, chairs angled toward the water, the first round of sand castles underway near the break. Two lifeguards sat high in the stand, scanning the surf. The waves were rolling in clean sets, not big, the kind that were perfect for just standing in the break and letting it push you sideways. The air smelled like salt and sunscreen, and somewhere nearby a radio hummed with a song none of them recognized.
Sophie and Brittany had already claimed a spot about twenty feet back from the water, towels spread, sunglasses on, looking like they'd been there for hours. Setting up camp took twelve minutes and involved a negotiation about umbrella placement that nobody won.
By the time they had chairs arranged and the cooler positioned where everyone could reach it, the teenagers had scattered toward the water and were in—all except Ethan, who hadn't moved past the wet sand. Arms crossed, facing the horizon.
The women took the chairs. For a few minutes nobody said anything—just the ocean, the distant calls of kids down the beach, a lifeguard whistle somewhere.
"This is the thing," Jen said, face tilted toward the sun. "Right here. This is the thing."
Lori reclined and exhaled like she'd been waiting eight months for this chair. "What are we doing for lunch?"
"It's nine-thirty." Meredith didn't look up from her book.
"I'm thinking ahead."
"Wawa," Carrie said. "Hoagies."
"Done." Lori pointed at her.
They talked about nothing in particular after that—the drive down, the weather forecast, whether anyone had remembered to bring cards for the evenings, whether the hot tub on the roof actually worked or was just for show. Carrie had already looked it up: it worked, but they'd need to wait twenty minutes for it to heat. Lori said she could wait. The conversation looped back on itself, easy with the quiet.
Dripping, towel wrapped around her shoulders, Sophie came up from the water. Sand clung to her calves. She'd walked past The Crabby Catch during the ice cream run last night and asked if they were hiring. Interview tomorrow at ten.
"That was fast," Meredith said.
"I saw the sign in the window." Sophie grinned. "Figured why not."
"You're going to be insufferable by August," Brittany said.
Sophie shoved her, and they headed back toward the surf, both of them laughing.
Lori's eyes found Ethan, still at the waterline. "He's applied to six places. Nothing back yet. Not even a no."
Down the beach, Sophie and Brittany were walking past the lifeguard stand. One of the guards—tan, dark hair, college-aged—glanced down at them. Brittany looked straight ahead, very deliberately not looking. Sophie didn't bother pretending.
"He looked," Sophie said, once they were past.
"I know." Brittany still didn't turn around. "I have peripheral vision."
"You should go talk to him."
"I'm not going to talk to him. He's working."
"He's sitting in a chair."
"He's watching for drowning people, Sophie."
"Nobody's drowning."
They kept walking toward the jetty, the sand hot under their feet. Sophie glanced back once. He was scanning the water again, left to right, but then he stopped. Looked right at her. She held it—a second, maybe two—and walked directly into a sandcastle.
"No," Sophie said, stumbling. A kid started wailing. The mom looked up from her phone.
"Keep walking," Brittany said, grabbing her arm. "Just keep walking."
