“Everything okay?”
“Everything is fine, love,” I tell Lou, who blinks wildly and nearly trips over her feet. I grab her arm to steady her. “Careful.”
“Yeah, sorry,” she says, turning her head to hide her blush.
Paige comes running out of the house, her big straw beach bag dragging her down by the shoulder.
“Let me help.”
“Thanks, Lulu,” my daughter says. “It’s extra full, cuz I packed stuff for you.”
“That’s so sweet of you. What do we have in there?”
“Beach blankets, because, duh. Sunscreen. Grandma always says that’s real important for me, but it is for you, too. Because your skin pays you, or something,” she says as they both climb into my truck.
“My skin does make me money,” Lou agrees, suppressing laughter. “That’s very thoughtful of you, I appreciate it. What else do we have?”
“Buckets and shovels and so many snacks. But I brought you fruit, not cookies, since you don’t like sweet stuff as much as me.”
“Thoughtful and observant,” Lou says. “I’m lucky to have such a good friend.”
“What’s observant mean?”
“It means you notice things,” I say. “Details and things that other people might not.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s me,” Paige says with a proud nod.
The two chatter the whole drive into town. Mom and Dad follow in their own car, wanting to be able to come home beforeus if they got tired from too many festivities. If it’s up to Paige, we’ll be on the beach until dusk.
My kid is a beach rat, at heart. One more reason to get her here and out of the city. Silently, I sigh, my stomach trying to pretzel itself into a knot of stress. I don’t have control over what Brenda has directed her attorney to tell mine; there’s no use worrying about it until I have the information. That’s easier said than done, though, despite the good front I put on for Lou, earlier.
I’ll play the part, today, as best I can, for the two people riding with me. But inside, I’ll be a wreck.
Too many other things are falling into place. I don’t feel lucky enough to get everything I want. My mother’s health, their possible return, primary custody, Lou. Something will fall through. Something always does.
“Apples and blueberries and strawberries. Strawberries are my favorite,” Paige says. “I planted a whole bunch of them with Grandma.”
“I saw that,” Lou says. “When I get my new house, I want to have a big garden, too. But I’ll probably need you to teach me how to do it. I don’t know how.”
“I’ll help! I know lots about it,” Paige tells her.
It’s an exaggeration, of course, but she’s learning. And what Lou said about her last night is true. There’s no stopping my daughter when she puts her mind to something. She’s never been one to drop a hobby when she finds a new one. She’s a collector of them all. It’s one of her traits that I love most. I’m biased, I love everything about her, but that’s near the top of the list.
Their conversation stays on gardening until we park. Then, Paige takes over, scanning the beach, already littered with contestants and tourists. There’s still a thin cloud cover, this early, but the sun is close to breaking through. Soon, all the people in their hoodies to fight off the morning chill will be casting them aside, along with their shoes.
“Over there.”
We all follow her lead and help her spread blankets out while she tells Lou the order of the day’s festivities.
Hours later, we’ve seen what seems like hundreds of sandcastles. Paige and Lou are now building one of their own. They’re planning out their vision for Riley’s property. Together.
Dad is a few hundred feet away, catching up with old friends. Mom and I sit and watch the pair with their buckets and shovels.
“I like her,” Mom tells me, curling her arm under mine.
“I do, too.”
“I know. You’re good for each other,” she says.
