“What part of ‘no more dating’ did you not understand?” asked Camille. She did like telling people about her work, the photos she printed from found film. Back when she did her own photography with vintage cameras, her prints were bestsellers. That was all in the past, though. She didn’t have the heart to take pictures these days. “I’ll look at my calendar and get back to you.”

They left the coffee shop and crossed to the Marina Park, where Britt’s husband, Wylie, was watching their two little ones, Zoe and Van.

“Mommy!” The kids spotted Britt and ran to her, both clamoring to be swooped up.

“Hey, what about us?” asked Camille’s mother. “Our turn.”

“Grammy! Aunt Camille!”

Camille scooped up her niece, earning a snuggle. “I love how you always speak in exclamation points. You smell like an ice cream cone,” she said.

“Daddy bought us ice cream!”

“Right before lunch!” said Van.

She picked him up next. “You smell like a hamster.”

“I do? Cool!”

“How’d the strategy session go?” Wylie asked.

“We’re all set for summer.” Britt stood up on tiptoe and gave her husband a kiss. “Thanks for watching the rug rats.”

“Let’s do something this weekend,” Camille suggested. “If you’re not busy.”

Britt’s mouth turned down in a moue. “We’d love to, but there’s something on the calendar already. Playdates and soccer tots. Let’s aim for another time, okay? I’ll e-mail you.”

“Sounds good.”

They all walked together along the waterfront holding hands like cutout paper dolls. Cherisse sighed. “So freaking cute. I love being a grandma.”

“I love being an aunt. Easier than being a mom, eh?”

“You were easy,” her mother said. “How’s Julie doing?”

Camille’s stomach knotted. In a very short time, her sunny, funny daughter who’d never given her a bit of worry had become a problem child. “Not so easy. Spends all her time alone, doesn’t want to talk about anything. She seems really down on herself. I offered to take her shopping for summer clothes, but she said she hates shopping because she hates the way she looks.”

Cherisse dropped her voice. “She’s gotten awfully chubby.”

“Don’t you think I’ve noticed, Mom? Don’t you think she has?”

“I feel so bad for her. She’s such a pretty girl.”

“And how much do you think that helps?” Camille felt helpless, exasperated. “I’ve been trying to get her to stay active and eat right without giving her body-image issues. It’s a sensitive subject.” Mostly, she didn’t say a word, but kept junk food out of the house. Drinks other than water were a thing of the past. Cookies and carbs—no longer on the menu. Camille herself had lost five pounds trying to keep sweets and treats at bay. “Julie’s going through a rough time, and she’s smart enough to know it. She’s barely started puberty, while the other girls look like lingerie models. And even though I know it’s not all about looks, Julie wants to fit in. And I want her to be confident in who she is.”