She was grateful that her parents got along. Bart and her father were cordial whenever they encountered each other. But despite their efforts, the decades-old breakup of her family felt like an old wound that still ached sometimes. When she thought about Julie, she wondered which was harder, to have your family taken apart by divorce, or to lose a parent entirely.

Cherisse, at least, had thrived in her new life. She and Bart had two girls together, Britt and Hilda. Ooh-La-La annexed the building next door, turning it into its sister property, Brew-La-La, the best café in town. All through her high school years, Camille had minded the shop while her two younger half sisters played in the small garden courtyard.

These days, Camille worked behind the scenes with the bookkeeper, Wendell, an insatiable surfer and skateboarder who financed his passion by keeping the books. Despite his shaggy hair and surfer duds, he was smart, intuitive, and meticulous. The sales staff consisted of Rhonda, who was also an amazing cook, and Daphne, a transplant from upstate New York with a mysterious past.

Britt was the resident merchandiser and display designer. Cherisse was in charge of “flying and buying.” Two times a year, she went to Europe to find the lovely offerings that had put the shop on the map. Before losing Jace, Camille used to accompany her on buying trips, soaking in the sights of Paris and Amsterdam, London and Prague. It was a mother-daughter treasure hunt, those unforgettable days.

After Jace died, Cherisse urged Camille to come along on trips the way she used to, but Camille refused. She never flew anywhere. Just the idea of setting foot on a plane sent her into a panic. She never again climbed a mountain or rode a trail, rafted on a river, surfed a wave, or flew on a kiteboard. Other than routine commutes to D.C. for work, she didn’t go anywhere. These days, she regarded the world as a dangerous place, and her job was to stay put and keep Julie safe.

She had failed miserably at that today. She vowed not to make that mistake again.

Rhonda greeted them at the shop entrance with a tray of her legendary crab croquettes.

“I’m never leaving you,” Billy said, helping himself to three of them.

“Promises, promises,” said Rhonda. “Come on in, you two. We’re having a great night. The tourist season is about to kick into high gear.”

Camille’s mother was in her element, greeting visitors, treating even out-of-towners like cherished friends. Billy made a beeline for her. “Hello, gorgeous,” he said, giving her a quick hug.

“Hello yourself,” she said, her face lighting up. Then she noticed Camille. “Glad you came after all. How’s Julie doing?”

“She shooed us both out of the house,” Camille said. “She’s okay, Mom. Thanks for showing up at the hospital. I was a mess.”

“You were not. Or did I miss something?”

You missed me having a meltdown in front of Malcolm Finnemore, Camille thought, but she simply said, “I’m all right now.”