“We could talk about dinosaurs instead,” offered Fran. “Or ninjas?”
“Submarine mechanics?” Augusta raised an eyebrow.
“Perfect.” Fran smiled. “I’d love that.”
They ushered thekidsdown the boardwalk and across the hot sand to the town side of the beach, where all the Greenhead residents congregated. They laid out their blankets and chairs and Fran helped Augusta set up the little tent for Beatrix, even though now she was too busy crashing around and trying to eat seaweed to stay put. Augusta didn’t bring up Colin, didn’t bring up theNew Yorkerstory, and Fran seemed to want to follow her lead, so they drank canned seltzer and slicked on sunscreen and handed out goldfish just like they had every summer for years.
“Did you hear about the scandal in the bullfrog group at camp?” Augusta asked, raising her eyebrow.
“No, what happened?”
“The second-grade boys were all naming their penises and yelling the names during water sports. The counselors had to take them aside and then tell the parents.”
Fran laughed. “Hale named his penis a few months ago.”
“What did he name it?” Augusta widened her eyes merrily.
“ ‘Princess Penis.’ ”
“What?” Augusta cackled. “At least he’s using the correct anatomical language.”
“Hey, your brother asked me to send him a bunch of pictures for his website.” Fran wiped sand off her water bottle and took a glug.
“Eben did? What website?” Augusta asked, confused.
“For finding a baby to adopt. Did he ask you? Or maybe he already has all the same pictures you have,” Fran hedged awkwardly.
“I knew they had decided to adopt, but I didn’t know where they were in the process.” It stung to realize Fran knew more about her brother’s life than she did.
“They’re working with an agency, but they have to make this website so that birth mothers can check them out. Pictures of them together, pictures of their house, little paragraphs about what they do for work and why they would be a good adoptive family.”
“That’s so sweet,” said Augusta quietly.
Fran tried to lighten the mood. “The funny part is that Eben says he and Max mostly have pictures of them drinking wine with friends, or shirtless at the beach. They have hundreds of pictures of them at parties and none of them in collared shirts.”
Augusta giggled. “Even when Max wears a collared shirt, he has at least four buttons undone.”
There was a mom camped out just down the beach wearing a T-shirt that said “Good Vibes” in loopy script. She was screaming at her kids for getting sand on the picnic blanket. Augusta tipped her chin at the lady, raising her eyebrows, and Fran laughed. Their own children were digging a pit by the water, and Augusta squinted, trying to figure out what Hale was using to dig. It seemed to be a spatula. Where on earth had he found a spatula? She was pretty sure he’d brought it from home.
“How are your folks doing?” Augusta asked, putting more sunblock on her arms.
“Not great,” Fran admitted. “My dad’s having financial issues.”
“Did he lose his job?”
“No, you know how my brothers are with gambling? They put some of the apps on my dad’s phone and he let his betting get out of control.”
“Does he have a gambling addiction?” Augusta asked, wide-eyed. She didn’t even know anyone who gambled.
“I don’t think so? But he lost sixty grand, he already had forty in other debt, and the bank is threatening to foreclose on the house.”
“You and your brothers can’t swing a loan?” A hundred grand was a lot, sure, but somebody had to have it in savings. Or in stocks they could sell if they had to.
“We’ve been chipping away at it, we’ve knocked out twenty-five thousand dollars to keep him afloat, but my brothers and I don’t have that much cash lying around.”
“What about RJ? He must have a lot of cash flow from his business?”
“I’m not asking him. It’s my family, I don’t want to make it his problem.”
