Picking up a copy of Cannery Row, a pile of which sat on the shelf, he made his way to the lesser-used checkout stand in the shop’s far corner. There he had to wait while an elderly woman, apparently doing her Christmas shopping, paid for half a dozen ocean-themed items. He briefly reprimanded himself for not simply going to a bookstore, and weighed the value of his member discount against the frustration of having to listen to the woman prattle on about how darling Victoria was just going to love her harp seal barrettes.

Then it was his turn. He paid, declined the offered bag, and exited the museum through the closer main entrance. He was so relieved to be leaving the tourists behind that he didn’t notice as he passed not ten feet away from his daughter as she made her way through the doors and into the main rotunda.

CHAPTER 13

For twenty-three bucks, this place better be amazing, Caddie thought. She couldn’t believe it cost so much to get into a freaking aquarium. And that was with the student discount. She’d almost turned right around and left, but the thought of sitting in the house with nothing to do made her stay.

She looked around. Admittedly, the place was beautiful. She could do without the whales and dolphins hanging from the ceiling, but other than that it was a pretty amazing place. She walked over to an information stand and picked up a map, then put it back again. She didn’t really care what she saw; she was just killing time.

Her attention was drawn by a sudden collective shriek that came from a knot of people standing before a display ahead of her. Curious, she went to see what all the fuss was about and discovered that two sea otters were putting on a show for the assembled visitors. The animals frisked about the tank, batting at one another and doing barrel rolls, swimming up to the glass and bringing their little whiskered faces close to the children standing in front. The kids reached out, squealing, and the otters retreated, chasing each other to the surface somewhere out of sight above the onlookers.

They were cute, but Caddie wasn’t in the mood for waiting around for their return. She moved on, retracing the path her father had walked not fifteen minutes before. Entering the smaller Outer Bay Wing of the aquarium, she entered a dimly lit hallway that promised to take her to the mysterious world of the jellies.

Looking through the round windows set in the walls, she watched the jellyfish float, their long tentacles hanging beneath them. At first they seemed nothing more than amorphous blobs, bits of gelatin dropped into the water and left to hang there. But the longer she watched them, the more alive they became. Within the bowl-shaped bodies she noticed specks of color. She started to notice the delicate ripples of movement, the fluttering of flowerlike central cores, the almost-imperceptible exhibitions of decisive motion, easily missed by those who, glancing at the jellies and seeing nothing, moved past them to more interesting specimens.