“They seem to know what they’re doing just fine to me,” my dad says with a chuckle. “Their control—and aim—is remarkable.”

Auntie Jacqui just laughs her big laugh and grabs the green garden hose, spraying down Ollie, Oskie, and their trucks.

Soon we settle into a rhythm. I swim with Max in the ocean and the pool while my mom emails about board chairperson stuff from a deck chair and my dad fields work calls from under an umbrella. I play gin rummy for nickels with my bubbie. Uncle Robbie stops by most mornings with coffee for my parents and Bubbie and teaches me to play backgammon. In the afternoons, we go to Uncle Dougie and Auntie Jacqui’s house and play with Ollie and Oskie. “Osh it!” Max and I have been saying and laughing every time we need to wash something. Or splash each other in the pool. It’s our inside joke.

On Friday night, we have Shabbat dinner all together at my bubbie’s condo. Everyone is laughing and talking over each other, in a way that reminds me of being at the Wines’. I wish Aunty Steph could be with us too, but it’s still fun to be with so many pieces of my locket for once.

“Your mother.” Uncle Robbie shakes his head to me, still laughing at Uncle Dougie’s dead-on imitation of my mother’s expression when something has not gone to plan. “It was always her way or the highway.”

“It still is,” I say, and everyone laughs, even though I’m not sure I really meant it to be funny.

On the last day, it rains, and my mother leaves Max with Auntie Jacqui and my bubbie and takes me to a big department store to shop for bat mitzvah dresses. Music plays in the background, and the air smells of perfume. My mother goes straight over to a rack of dresses and starts pulling things off and putting them over her arm. I go to a different rack and browse. I don’t know what I’m hoping to find, but I think I’ll know it when I see it.

“What do you think of this?” I say, holding up a navy tulle dress that could be good for one of my friends’ parties.

My mother screws up her face. “It’s okay. I guess you could try it on and see. What about this?” She shows me a dark floral outfit with an oversized collar.

“It’s nice, but it’s not my style.”

My mother rolls her eyes and drapes the outfit on top of the others on her arm anyway. “Just try it on. You never know.”

“This?” I say, holding up a dress with gold embroidery.

She shakes her head. “That material looks chintzy.”

“It looks nice to me,” I say, putting it back on the rack. She’s right, several of the threads are already loose.

She holds up something light and silky in peach. “Oh my goodness, what about this for your bat mitzvah? It will look so good with your coloring.”