A tap of a horn reminded me I was supposed to be driving. I looked in my rearview mirror, waved in apology, and pulled away from the green light. My drive home was slow. I was looking at everything with new eyes. There were a few houses in prime locations near the beach that would definitely be bought and torn down. The gentrification had tried to take over Surfside thirty years ago, but people like my parents fought back. They refused to sell their homes, and eventually, the rich people moved on to other towns willing to tear it all down for one massive home.
I pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. Our beach house wasn’t a hovel, but it was smaller than a lot of the other houses on the shore. And it could definitely use some updating, but it wasn’t falling down. It was ours and we liked it just the way it was.
I opened the truck door, the damn thing doing its usual groan. Before I had both feet on the pavement, the back door of the house swung open and Ocean came barreling out like he’d been waiting behind it.
“I’ll help,” he announced. “Did you get cookies? And more chicken nuggets?”
“You know I did.”
River was right behind him in her swimsuit with her hair in a braid. “Mom said I had to help.”
“Grab something light,” I said, dropping the tailgate.
I took the two heaviest bags and followed them inside. Becca took the bags and started putting the groceries away.
“Something came for you today,” she said. “While you were out.”
I kept unloading. “What kind of something?”
“A box.”
I set the bag of grapes on the counter and turned to look at her. She was grinning like she had a secret.
“What kind of box?” I asked.
“The nice kind,” she said. “I put it in your room.”
“What is a nice box?” I asked.
“You’ll have to go see.”
“Becca,” I said. “Is it like a severed?—”
I stopped talking when I remembered the kids were standing there.
“I don’t know what’s in it,” she said again. “I just put it where it would be safe.”
I abandoned the groceries and headed upstairs with the kids and Becca following me. The box was on my bed. It was a white rectangle with a thick satin ribbon tied around it. It was very fancy and definitely not like anything I ever had before.
There was a note tucked beneath the ribbon.
I owe you a proper apology. You know, one where I actually say the words. But I need more than a run-in on the beach to do it right. Put this on. I’ll pick you up at seven.
No signature. He hadn’t signed it. He hadn’t needed to. It was pretty obvious who it was.
I was aware of them all watching me. I set the note down on the nightstand and reached for the ribbon. I pulled off the lid. There was pink tissue paper hiding the contents.
“What is it?” River asked.
I pushed back the tissue paper and then I just stopped.
The dress was the color of the sky. A baby blue in a soft, airy fabric. I lifted it carefully and held it up. It was backless with a flowy skirt that would hit knee high. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
“Oh,” River breathed. It came out like a prayer.
I stood there holding the dress and felt my cheeks burn. I was thrilled and embarrassed and excited. Becca had a hand over her mouth.
“It’s so pretty,” River said. She reached out one finger and touched the fabric very gently, like it might dissolve. “Aunt Summer, it’s so pretty.”
