Everything about Dana is trip-wired. Distance is Cate’s strongest line of defense and when Cate insisted—this was about a year ago—Dana reluctantly agreed to stay away, but now she appears to have gone rogue. Even not counting her stalking Cate on Clark Street by Kopi, this is the second time in the past few weeks she has turned up. The first was maybe accidental—maybe—at the Jewel, in front of the fish case. Cate was looking at the different kinds of salmon. She was just about to say “Coho” to the fish guy when she noticed Dana over at the meat counter and so did a one-eighty into the cereal aisle in a determined way, as though her cart was pulling her along like an old lawn mower. So that was the Jewel. Dana doesn’t go to the supermarket to buy meat. She owns a restaurant and gets her groceries wholesale. Today is one step farther over the line. Since Dana doesn’t have a dog, a chance meeting at the dog beach has zero element of chance to it.

Cate turns and runs into a bit of trouble getting to “hi.” She can’t even look straight at Dana. Even now, she isn’t up to that. Even now, she is only up to looking at Dana’s feet, blocky, with an errant hammertoe on the right. She has taken off her shoes and socks and is now, like Cate, up to her ankles in zippy-cold water. The starter switch of hope flips inside Cate, followed by discouragement that she still feels this much. And that’s what it is—all feeling. Electric impulses light up in tear ducts and pulse points, private parts (which suddenly feel much less private).

Breaking free from Dana was one of the original pieces of Plan C—her taking-charge plan, authoring her own narrative, blah, blah, blah. Moments like this, though, make having a plan seem ridiculous. But maybe Dana coming here means something’s up. Something big. Like breaking up with her girlfriend. But all she has to say for herself is “I’m sorry. For bothering you. I just miss you too much.”

“Oh man, I hope so. But this is exactly what you are supposed to not be doing. This is still the part where you stay away and I get over you. And anyway, shouldn’t you be asleep now? Why am I seeing you in daylight?”

“Scouting out provisions. I’m just back from Indiana. There’s a woman in Michigan City who raises ducks for eggs. Have you ever tasted a duck egg? They’re fabulous. Deep-orange yolks.” She pulls one out of her jacket pocket, hands it to Cate.

“I just had gold leaf on a coddled egg the other night,” Cate says.

“I know that place. A lot of, you know, sophistication going around these days.”