Soon, she thought as she slid her tray down onto a table and took a seat. She’d had her third appointment and her prosthetic arm was in development, as the lab liked to say. Her daughter, Marnee, had teased her about the process, saying that this was the first thing she’d come across that couldn’t be ordered on Amazon and delivered the next day. A.L. had volunteered to come to every appointment but she’d declined. It was just something she had to do. On her own.

It would be unique to her needs, her hopes for functionality, her desire for aesthetics. “It’s okay to want it to look good,” her prosthetist had said.

Looking good was relative, Tess knew.

She likely wasn’t as concerned about that now as she had been. Time had a way of helping one deal with things. It offered a chance to develop perspective. She could have died on the beach that day. But, instead, had been offered a chance to have a life.

Different.

But no worse.

A.L. had said it didn’t matter to him if she pursued a prosthetic. She believed him. Which mattered a great deal more than she would have admitted to anyone. He wasn’t a guy to wax poetic about a relationship but she knew, one look into his eyes told her, that he really did believe she was beautiful.

They’d had fun in California. Had slept late and eaten long lunches and had cocktails on the deck at sunset. He’d stood shoulder to shoulder with her as she stared out into the ocean and later had held her one hand tightly in his own as they’d strolled at the water’s edge, the surf gently lapping at their bare feet.

He’d looked really good with a tan. And the rest had seemed to do him good. Had smoothed out the lines around his eyes, lightened the dark circles that settled in when he worked too hard. He hadn’t shaved for a week and she’d teased him about the gray that showed in the short whiskers.

He’d seemed unconcerned. She liked that.

She bit into her first taco and chewed. Was halfway done with it when, at first, she thought that thinking about A.L. was making her see things. But then she took a second look and was confident that she was right. It was A.L.’s teenage daughter across the way. Even though she had only met Traci once, she was confident it was her. The girl’s hair was dark like A.L.’s and she wore it long, well past her shoulders. She had A.L.’s eyes and what Tess assumed was her mother’s nose.