Was it Alexa’s imagination, or did Cam’s hold on the steering wheel tighten?

“We’re not exclusive anymore,” he said. “That’s over.”

“I see,” said Alexa. “I’m sorry?”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” said Cam. He pressed his lips together and kept his eyes on the road. Alexa looked off to the right, where the sun was just beginning to lower over the Atlantic. The strips of beach that whizzed by them were nearly empty.

Alexa couldn’t resist her next question. “Whose idea was it? Not to be exclusive?”

“Both,” said Cam. He stopped at a crosswalk and they watched a sandy family—two parents, a stroller, and a kid on a scooter—make their way across. It’s never both, thought Alexa, it’s never both, but she let it slide. Then Cam said, “We agreed it was better for her to go back to UVM unencumbered.” Alexa took that to mean that Shelby decided it was better for Shelby to go back to UVM unencumbered.

“What about you?” Cam asked.

Tyler was on a 7:35 a.m. flight the next day, which meant he would leave for the airport at 4:30. If Alexa wasn’t seeing him right now, she wasn’t going to see him until he returned from Silver Lake in three weeks. She thought again about Tyler and Zoe Butler-Gray getting out of Tyler’s car at Blue Inn, and her blood boiled.

Alexa said, “Unencumbered.”

24.

Rebecca

Morgan had been invited to stay the night at Katie’s house, and Alexa was out with Tyler, who was leaving the next day for Silver Lake. Rebecca was happy that Morgan wanted to spend the night somewhere—since the sleeping bag incident she’d turned down all sleepover invitations.

Rebecca checked the 360 app and saw that Alexa was at the Hampton Casino. The Hampton Casino? She opened her laptop, checked the casino’s Web site for the schedule, and saw that tonight there was a Dave Matthews cover band. That didn’t seem very Tyler-like, or very Alexa-like. Come to think of it, Rebecca didn’t really know Tyler’s musical taste. She knew he liked Cap’n Crunch cereal, and that he was a good lacrosse player and a solid C student in non-honors classes, and that Alexa had to get a ride home with someone else from junior prom because Tyler had had too much to drink at one of the after parties. She knew that Alexa could do better than Tyler. She knew that a mom, even a loving one, even a grieving one, couldn’t interfere too much in her teenage daughter’s romantic life as the daughter was learning to make her own decisions. She knew that Alexa had sprouted some protective edges since Peter’s death that, like the quills of a porcupine, hurt more coming out than they did going in. She knew enough to be careful.

She was supposed to go to the Deck with the ladies, but she was dragging her feet. She’d go in a few minutes. Or never. She checked her e-mail. There was a message with the title Holiday House Tour Initial Meeting from Patricia Stone, who was the head of the committee. Rebecca had volunteered to help with the house tour five years in a row, but last year, after Peter, she dropped out. Gina had temporarily taken her place on the committee. Now Patricia probably wanted to know if Rebecca wanted her spot back. The idea of it all made her feel tired. She closed her computer. As she was contemplating how much she didn’t feel like getting dressed to go out, a rogue wave of nostalgia hit her, probably brought on by the thought of Dave Matthews. Peter had loved Dave Matthews. They had loved Dave Matthews together through various live shows in various venues.

Rebecca poured a glass of Cabernet and indulged in an energetic round of crying while she listened to “The Space Between.” Bernice came and sat on her feet, and she got through “Satellite” and “Crash Into Me” before the tears subsided.

Peter had loved lots of things, not just Dave Matthews. Hazelnut ice cream. Lobster tacos. The soft skin on the inside of Rebecca’s arm. Travel! He’d been so excited to go to Dubai for the first time, and then he’d gone and died before he made it all the way home. From Dubai he had texted them the most stunning pictures. The city skyline at dusk, with an orb of pink lowered over it, as if by the hand of God. The flamingoes at Ras al Khor. The observation wheel at Bluewaters. A farmers’ market with signs in Arabic in front of a rainbow of peppers and tomatoes. I have all the time in the world, he probably thought, as he touched the camera button on his phone again and again. This is just one of the amazing things I will see in the rest of my life, and there are many, many more to come. It tore Rebecca’s heart in tiny pieces when she thought about what his face must have looked like, the way his eyebrows shot up when he got excited, the way he looked around for someone with whom to share the wonders. He was probably eagerly nodding at perfect strangers the whole time he was taking those pictures. That was Peter.

Morgan had Katie. Alexa had Tyler. All the ladies at the Deck had husbands they’d left behind with the children so they could have cocktails and fish tacos. Rebecca was a puzzle piece discarded under the corner of the carpet at the end of the vacation, forgotten.

Her phone rang. Daniel. She didn’t have him put in as a contact—she didn’t want the girls to pick up her phone and see his name—but by now she recognized his number, even knew it enough to dial it by memory. She wiped her tears and cleared her throat.

“Any chance you can grab a bite?” he asked. “Or are you saddled with children and responsibilities for the evening?”