“The coolest kids in Seaview.” Ben gives a sage nod.

“See you at school tomorrow?”

“Definitely. I’m guessing you have Luke’s alibi on your agenda?”

“You know me so well. I want to know what Natalie had on him. And then, yes: Did he have a halftime hookup or not?” I wonder if Luke gave his alibi to the cops today. I should text Amber, see if she knows.

“He definitely wasn’t in the locker room,” Ben says. “And like I said, I don’t remember seeing Gabriel, either.” His look is loaded. An image of Gabriel’s strong frame pops into my head, unbidden, but I shake it away, unlock the passenger door, and swing it open, thrusting one leg out into the rain.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I offer one last shy smile before dashing up to the porch.

Inside, I pull my waterlogged sneakers off with a relieved sigh; the soggy socks follow, and I shove them into the shoes, leaving them by the door.

“Celia, that you?” Maura calls from the dining room. I wend my way through the front sitting room and find her bent over the beginnings of a giant jigsaw puzzle. Elaine, from Hotel Seaview, is next to her, rapidly sorting pieces into different containers. Peak grandma right here. Elaine is nursing a gin and tonic, and Maura’s on what must be her eighth coffee of the day.

“Join us, sweetheart.” Maura pats the chair next to her.

Elaine squints at me as I take a seat. “It’s simply uncanny how much she looks like Vanessa.”

“Does she?” Maura tuts as she fits an edge piece. “I think she takes after me. That gorgeous wavy mahogany hair. Vanessa’s was dishwater brown and frizzy more than anything.”

I would’ve said warm brown and wild, but it’s true my mom used to say she wished her hair were a richer color, like mine. With Maura’s current gray, I didn’t realize who I’d got it from.

“So…puzzles?” I say, attempting to change the subject. My mother is a sore one.

“Don’t knock it until you try it, girly,” Elaine says with moxie. “Maura and I have been doing our weekly jigsaw for going on ten years.”

Maura slides the box my way. It’s an idyllic scene of a cabin on a cliff, with brilliant pink, purple, and yellow flowers cascading down to the choppy sea. Pretty, if on the cheesier end of the art spectrum.

“You’re welcome to join us,” my grandmother says. “I’m surprised young Ben didn’t come in, though. How was your walk?”

“Ben?” Elaine says with some interest. “Yesterday it was Gabriel.”

“My girl’s popular,” Maura says, a wink in her tone.