She climbed out and toweled off, then sat on the porch steps. Hearing voices, she felt her heart skip. She knew that Edward would return—it was just a matter of time. But glancing through the trellis, she saw Bay and Tara coming down the steps, through the rose garden. They were dressed in shorts and sneakers, and they carried tennis rackets.

“Time to test that backhand,” Tara called. “Do you still have your racket?”

“It's nearly dark out,” Lily said.

“One of the big changes since you left Hubbard's Point,” Bay said, “is lights at the tennis courts.”

“Come on,” Tara said. “No excuses. Let's go play.”

Lily stared at the water. She felt so ragged tonight, after keeping vigil for Maeve, who just wouldn't wake up; she missed her child so badly, her bones ached. And she missed Liam, her only true love, with every breath in her body. She couldn't leave the house again.

“I can't,” she said.

“Lily, if there's any change with Maeve,” Tara said, “the hospital will call your cell phone. So will Liam, if Rose needs you.”

If Rose needs you . . . Lily knew that Rose needed her all the time, just as Lily needed Rose. What was she doing, apart from the people she loved?

“We don't have to play long,” Bay said. “Just half an hour.”

“We'll wear you out, so you'll sleep better,” Tara said, tugging her arm.

“Okay,” Lily said slowly. “Let me get dressed and find my racket.”

And she did.

The three women hurried down the road with their tennis rackets. Darkness settled on Hubbard's Point, and roses, honeysuckle, and pine scented the salt air. The breeze felt fresh, with a tiny chill to remind them that August was almost over, and September would soon be upon them. Stars twinkled through the branches overhead, and lights had started to come on in the cottages.

With every step, Lily felt younger. Walking the roads of Hubbard's Point, she was a child again. These were her best friends. Her grandmother loved her, and would be watching over her forever. Nothing bad could ever happen.

When they got to the tennis courts, they found them empty. They were old asphalt courts, nothing fancy. Because they were built at the far end of the sandy beach parking lot, they were constantly flooding. The tar would crack, and the beach crew would have to patch it. Tara walked over to a wooden box mounted on a tall pole. She opened the door and flipped a switch. Light flooded down, illuminating the courts.

“Let there be light,” Tara said.

“I can't believe the beach sprang for lights,” Lily said. “So much has changed from the days when we used to play in the dark. We couldn't even see the ball, but we'd be having too much fun to quit.”

“So much has stayed the same, too,” Bay said, giving her a quick hug. “We still have fun.”