Second stop after Beau’s is the rented beach house. I throw some clothes into a bag. A few years back I worked with a stylist who was a big fan of the “capsule wardrobe.” It basically means that all my clothes go with one another. Packing takes less time. I could hire a person to do it, but that seems over the top. Anyway, I have plenty to get through a couple days away from Eben Cape. Anything else we need, we can buy when we get there.

The last stop is a toy store in downtown Eben Cape. I park in one of the public lots around the corner and wait a few minutes to see if the paparazzi have staked out this part of town. Nobody’s in sight. A lady walking her dog goes past on the phone. A guy with a stroller heads in the direction of the playground. He’s talking to the little one in the stroller. Doesn’t look bored, or like he wishes he could be somewhere else.

I get out and head around to the store. A bell tinkles against the glass. Cool air engulfs me.

“Hi there.” A dark-haired woman behind the counter greets me with a broad smile. “Are you looking for anything in particular today?”

“I need your Disney shelf.” I return her smile, thinking of the dad with the stroller. Does he ever stop in here and pick something up on the way to the playground? I think I’d be a goner the first time my kid poked a chubby hand out of the stroller at a toy in the window. Not that it’s a scenario that’s ever going to happen.

“Right around here.”

“Oh, good. You’ve got ears.” I pick up a headband with classic Mickey ears, then put it back and choose one with a little Minnie bow in the center. I go with a medium-sized Mickey plush and take them back to the counter.

“Your daughter is one lucky little girl,” she says as she rings them up.

My brain freezes. Paige isn’t my daughter, but I want to agree with this woman. I want to say yes, she is because it would feel good. Both to have a daughter and that some random stranger would think that daughter was lucky to have me. What? No. I’ve never been the type to fantasize about family life. I know better than to think it’s all warm and fuzzy all the time. It’s not, even when you’re trying your hardest.

It might be simpler to lie, to go along with this, but that’s not a good option, either. Eben Cape is small enough that what I said might get around. If it got to the paparazzi—

“My niece,” I say, a beat too late.