As I sliced lemons on a cutting board by the sink, Joan came over to rinse off the tongs. “You look lovely,” she said. “I haven’t seen that dress before.”

“It’s the only dress I brought here,” I said, and then wondered why I’d admitted that. I glanced swiftly at Steph, but she didn’t seem to have heard. Joan merely nodded.

When the food was ready, we ate it on the deck under the umbrella. Steph was different with Joan around. More earnest, respectful. They talked about the drought and its impact on wildfires in the state. They talked about the Fourth of July, which gave me the chance to show the photo of the papier-mâché unicorn to Steph, her head bending over my hand. They talked about baseball and whether the Giants could ever repeat their World Series sweep from last year.

I started clearing the plates in the middle of their baseball conversation, and decided to bring out dessert. Joan had stocked up on the Scoop’s Fourth of July flavor—vanilla swirled with blueberries and raspberries—which they made only once a year. Dad always made sure to get it if we were here in July, and as I peeled back the lid on the pint I remembered the last summer we’d had with Grandpa. Standing with him on the sidewalk outside the Scoop one summer night as we waited in line, little kids clutching their dripping cones nearby. Christmas lights had been strung from the trees and they seemed to wink like fireflies.

I heard Joan saying my name out on the deck, and I blinked back to now. I stacked up bowls and spoons and the ice cream and went outside.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Joan was asking Steph.

“Tell you what?” I asked, setting the bowls on the table.

“That she was a musician,” Joan said. “I was just telling Steph that I didn’t know until you told me.”

Steph looked a little embarrassed. “I guess it just never came up. And it’s not like it’s my job—I just do it on the side.”

“That’s where it starts,” Joan said.

“She has a CD,” I said as I scooped out ice cream.

“It’s just four songs with my old band,” Steph said.

“That shows commitment, though,” Joan said. She accepted the bowl of ice cream I offered her. “Thank you.” She picked up her spoon and asked Steph, “What happened to your band?”

“Nothing. They still exist, but I’m not in it anymore.”

“But she’s going back for one show,” I said.

“One show only,” Steph said.

I wondered whether Lisa had put her foot down. I handed Steph a bowl of ice cream. “Fourth of July flavor.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“Why only one?” Joan asked.

Steph looked uncomfortable. “I have to pay the rent.”