Stuart looked down at his weather-beaten leather moccasins and the sleeveless wool one-piece he’d worn out on the boat. He’d pulled his shorts overtop his uniform when he had left the beach but hadn’t bothered to put on his shirt, which he held in one hand, the emptycoffee thermos in the other. He could feel Esther, and maybe Anna, too, assessing his ensemble.
“I was on my way to get a bite before work,” he said as he placed the thermos down for a moment and pulled the shirt over his head.
“We won’t keep you,” said Esther.
“No, no. I have time,” he said quickly. “I was just trying to make excuses for being half-dressed. Is what I’m wearing all right?”
“You’re absolutely fine,” said Joseph.
Esther nodded, although it was hard to tell whether she was acknowledging that his attire looked passable or that she was simply ready for the family to set off again.
Stuart didn’t know the etiquette for a situation such as this. Ordinarily, he’d have tried to make polite conversation, but if this walk was religious in nature, it would surely be more appropriate to say nothing. He walked in silence for several minutes, studying the back of Joseph’s and Esther’s heads as they made their way north. As they approached States Avenue, they slowed their pace and crossed the wide Boardwalk. Esther gripped the railing with both hands and looked out at the ocean.
It made sense that the family would come here, to the spot where they’d last seen Florence alive. It was early, not yet ten, and the beach was still quiet. In a little while, the lifeguards would arrive, drag their stands down to the water’s edge, and give their whistles a long blast to signal that it was safe to swim.
Stuart knew the guards who had been assigned to the States Avenue stand this summer. Bing Johnson and Neil Farmer were both good guys but neither of them had half Stuart’s experience. Stuart had gone looking for them last Sunday night, after he’d talked to Esther. When he found them, at a beloved bar not far from the Virginia Avenue Hospital Tent, he’d delivered her message—asked them not to say anything about who the victim was—but he’d also asked them to describe the save to him in detail. “She only struggled for a minute,” said Bing, who was on what looked to be his fourth bourbon and water. “By the time we reached her, she was already unconscious.”
Stuart had wanted answers but neither Bing nor Neil could provideanything concrete. If only Stuart had been at the States Avenue stand, like usual. He might have gotten to Florence faster. Or she might never have gone for a swim in the first place, content to spend her afternoon shouting wisecracks at him from the ground below.
Esther shook her head back and forth, as if she were shaking the image of her daughter’s dead body from her mind. Joseph guided her away from the railing. Isaac and Gussie followed, and Anna and Stuart brought up the rear. Stuart intentionally slowed his pace, allowing a comfortable distance to grow between Isaac and him.
“I suppose you didn’t have the chance to get to know her very well,” said Stuart.
Anna didn’t say anything.
“She was special. Different. Not like all the other girls around here.”
Anna nodded, then wiped at her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, no. You’re right to want to talk about her.”
They passed a fortune-teller’s booth that advertised two-dollar tarot card readings.
“It must be hard to be in the middle of all this. Especially when you hardly know the family.”
“It’s not so bad,” she said. “For the first time in three months, I feel useful.”
“I’m sure you’ve been a big help.”
“Esther reminds me of my mother in many ways.”
“You must miss her,” said Stuart. “Your mother.”
“Yes.”
“Is it true that Mr. Adler and your mother were sweethearts back in Europe?”
Anna’s eyes grew wide.
Stuart realized he’d overstepped. “Or maybe that’s just what Florence thought.”
Anna laughed out loud.
“What?” asked Stuart, grinning. “Is it funny to imagine them as sweethearts or funny to imagine Florence pondering the match?”
“Maybe both?”
