Even through her sadness, she yelled encouragement as my girl managed to stand all the way up on her board for a full two seconds before she plunged into the water. We both jumped to our feet and cheered. But that was motherhood, right? Compartmentalizing your own pain to accommodate your children’s joy. “That’s a good boy you’ve got right there,” I said. “Teaching Iris to surf like this? What a great distraction.”

She smiled. “Merit has this relationship with the water that I’m envious of. The ocean scares me, whereas he is just so at peace with it. He understands it in a way that is lost on me.”

I nodded, looking over at her. “Yeah. I get that. You can tell the local kids from the vacationers right away. That saltwater runs through their veins.”

“Troy was one of those locals, and he certainly had no trouble leaving.”

“Grace, I imagined this amicable, chic separation for you. But I think that’s because I’m still reconciling the Instagram Growing with Grace with the real Grace.”

“I know I made it seem that way when we met.” She sighed. “But the truth is that I would have done anything for him, gone anywhere for him, managed any distance for him,” she said with a cool ferocity that caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand up. “After he left, after we cried and promised this would be short-term or the kids and I would move, he told me he wanted a divorce. Over the phone.”

I shook my head. “That’s awful.”

She nodded. “I don’t know if that was his plan the whole time or he met someone else or what. But suffice it to say, I am devastated.”

Merit and Iris were paddling out again. “I am so sorry.” I gave her a small sideways hug as best I could and almost jumped as Julie reappeared between us—with a bottle of wine and three plastic cups.

“It’s like you read our minds!” I said.

She smiled. “What did I miss?” she asked as she poured.

“Not much. Just my sad story for the hundredth time,” Grace said. “Nothing like a hugely heavy mental breakdown to kill a Sunday vibe!” She laughed.

“Thank you for sharing with me,” I said. “I mean it. I want to know you more. You too, Julie. And Alice.”

“I’m a pretty open book,” Julie said. “Girls. Nosy, pushy reporter. Mommune.”

“But you’ll never know Alice,” Grace said.

“You don’t feel like you know her?”

Grace shook her head. “Oh, Charlotte,” she said flippantly, “no one really knows Alice.”

“Not even you?” I asked Julie. “You’re family.”

Julie shook her head. “I love Alice. She’s an amazing woman. But I’ve never gotten that deep with her.” She shrugged sadly. “I’m not really sure even Alice knows Alice.”