"What about Ethan?" Meredith asked. "How's he doing with everything?"
Lori glanced toward the water. Ethan was sitting on the sand now, apart from the others. "Ethan doesn't think anything. Ethan doesn't talk."
"He's seventeen," Carrie said.
"He was talking fine until Kevin announced the engagement."
She hadn't meant to say it like that—hard, bitter. She took a breath.
"His dad's getting married again. To someone who's basically Sophie's age."
"She's not that young," Meredith said.
"She's thirty-two."
"Okay, she's young."
"And Ethan has to be in the wedding. Kevin wants him to be a groomsman." Lori exhaled. "He hasn't said yes. He hasn't said anything. He just—stopped."
Jen had been quiet through all of this, looking out at the water rather than at any of them.
Carrie nudged her. "Any news from the dating apps?"
"I deleted them."
"Again?" Carrie said.
"Permanently." Jen took a bite of her hoagie. "I've decided I'm done looking."
"You're forty-five," Lori said.
"And?"
"I'm just saying. There's time."
"I know there's time. That's not the point." She wiped her hands on a napkin, slow and deliberate. "I spent twenty years waiting for the right person. Maybe they don't exist. Maybe I'm fine on my own."
"You're not fine," Olivia said. "You're writing a book about it."
Jen laughed, caught off guard. "That's different."
"Is it?"
"The book isn't about me."
"Sure." Olivia was grinning now.
A chip flew at her. Olivia ducked, and the others joined in—Carrie snorting into her drink, Lori rolling her eyes. For a moment it was just that: five women on a beach, giving each other a hard time.
"More chips?" Carrie held up the bag.
"Please," Jen said.
They passed the bag around. The afternoon stretched out—hours lost to the water, to naps in the chairs, to walks up the promenade for ice cream. By three the umbrellas started coming down around them. By four they'd packed up and made the slow walk back, everyone sun-tired and salt-sticky and ready for a shower.
The outdoor shower off the side gate ran for forty-five minutes straight. The teenagers cycled through first, loud and impatient, tracking sand across the deck and arguing about who'd been in there longest.
"Max, you've been in there for twenty minutes," Sophie yelled through the slats.
