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to keep an eye on the children. At first, the Beach Camp kids were quiet, awed by the size of the old summer house and its many rooms. Then someone on the first floor shrieked in victory, and the second-floor children went mad, racing into the bedrooms and bathrooms, crawling beneath beds, bumping into furniture, giggling and arguing and shrieking.

The greatest attraction of the day was the basement. A few years ago, Eleanor had had a room fitted out for exercising. One wall was mirrored. She had a small exercise bike, a rowing machine, and a shelf of rubber weights and bands, none of them very heavy. The boys mostly took over the bike and rowing machine, while some of the girls used the bands to tie around their waists in a bow so they could admire themselves in the mirror and others used them for a tug-of-war. After a fairly long, very noisy while, they were sent to the rest of the basement to find a brown paper bag with their name printed on it, and inside, pretzels and raisins. Then they were channeled back upstairs.

Later, the children ate macaroni and cheese and buttered green beans. Finally, they gathered their loot and raced through the still-pouring rain out to the vans. As they left, each child, prompted by Ari, Sandy, or Cal, shook Eleanor’s hand and said, “Thank you.”

Ari was last to leave. She had to meet the Beach Camp at the community room for story time and games.

“You were wonderful,” she told her grandmother. “You really saved the day.”

“I enjoyed it,” Eleanor said. “But the moment you leave, I’m going to my room to take a nap.”

Seventeen

Saturday morning, Eleanor was still in bed when her granddaughter slipped into the room and put a note on her bedside table.

“Good luck,” Eleanor said, her voice croaking, because she hadn’t had her coffee yet.

“Thanks,” Ari said, and hurried away.

Eleanor lay for a moment, wondering what exactly good luck would mean for Ari, who was taking the six-thirty car ferry to Hyannis and making the short but crowded drive to Boston, where Peter was taking a summer-semester law review class at Harvard. The drive that should take ninety minutes could take hours, depending on the vacation traffic. Peter had not agreed to meet Ari partway, in one of the towns just outside of Boston. He’d insisted she come into Cambridge and meet her at a small café in Harvard Square.

What would Peter say when he found out Ari was pregnant? For that matter, what did Ari hope Peter would say? What did Eleanor hope would happen? She couldn’t imagine.

Eleanor tried to still her thoughts and fall back into the oblivion of sleep, but no, she was awake. She rose, pulled on a loose sundress and no bra—the joys of not wearing a bra were extreme—dropped her cellphone into her pocket, and went out to the kitchen to fire up the Keurig. It was a sunny day. She’d drink her coffee out on the deck.

She sat in her favorite wicker chair for a while, soaking in the sun, savoring the day, the fresh air, the blue ocean extending farther than she could see. It was both a blessing and a relief to be at this place in her life. In spite of an aching back and fickle joints, she relished old age.

Her cell buzzed. It was only a few minutes after seven. Ari would still be on the car ferry. Without looking, Eleanor said hello.

“Eleanor. Do you know where Alicia is?” Phillip’s baritone voice cracked with emotion. Anger? Concern?

“Good morning, Phillip,” Eleanor said, giving her a moment to catch her breath. This was the last call she’d expected.

“Good morning, Eleanor. I apologize for calling so early, but I came home last night and Alicia wasn’t here. She hasn’t come home, and she didn’t leave a note.”

Eleanor caught her breath. Just when she thought she was free of decision-making, Phillip’s call. Should Eleanor tell Phillip everything now, on the phone? She had always liked Phillip, and respected him. He had put up with a lot from his wife, who could be demanding and self-absorbed, as Eleanor knew only too well.

Eleanor answered with a question of her own. “You came home last night? Where had you been?”

Phillip was silent.

“Well, when did you last see Alicia?”

“It’s been a while,” Phillip said quietly.

“It’s been a while since you’ve seen your wife?”

“Eleanor,” Phillip said, his voice pleading.

“Phillip, you know I’ve always loved you, but Alicia is my daughter. You have hurt her, and that was cruel. Is cruel.”

After a moment’s silence, Phillip said, “Does that mean you won’t tell me where she is?”

“I can tell you what she knows,” Eleanor said.

“Do you want me to come to the island to talk?”

Her heart felt as if it were squeezed and cracking. “No, Phillip,” Eleanor answered, and her voice was angry, “I don’t want you to come to the island. Really, you only want to come so your girlfriend can comfort you.”

“Eleanor—”

Eleanor gave in. “She’s going on a trip. She didn’t tell us where. You should know that Ari knows about your affair. Your daughter has seen you with your…” Eleanor couldn’t speak the word. She clicked off the phone, using every ounce of restraint to keep herself from throwing the innocent piece of technology across the yard.

By luck—good or bad—Ari found a parking spot on Mass Ave near the Coffee House. She was sure Peter had chosen this because it wasn’t in the heart of Harvard Square, where his friends might see her.

She sat in her car for a few minutes, calming her thudding heart, working out how to tell Peter. What if he said he wanted to marry her as they had planned, and have the baby and live together? That would make Peter happy, and presumably it would make the baby happy, too, to have both parents living together.

But she didn’t love Peter. As each day without him passed,

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