Drue opened the bag and lifted out a sugary pastry. She took a bite and smiled despite herself. “Apple fritter from Publix? I can’t believe you remembered.”

“I remember more than you give me credit for,” he replied evenly.

Brice changed the subject. “I saw all the trash bags piled at the curb,” he said, looking around the living room. “You must have worked your tail off last night. Okay if I look around?”

“Help yourself,” she said, still chewing.

His footfalls echoed in the empty rooms as he took the brief tour. “The bathroom doesn’t look too bad,” he commented, sitting down on the upturned bucket and taking a sip of his own coffee.

“You should have seen it when I got here,” she said, shuddering at the memory. She squared her shoulders and finished off the fritter. “I want to get the carpet pulled up in the bedrooms today, and then tackle the kitchen.”

Brice pointed up at the patch of exposed lath and plaster in the water-stained ceiling. “I’m thinking you are going to have to replace the roof.”

“I can’t think about that right now,” Drue said. “Definitely not in my budget.”

He started to say something, but a faint chirping noise emanated from his phone. He looked down at the incoming text message. “Wish I could hang around and help, but we’re meeting some out-of-town friends for brunch.”

He handed her a small envelope. “That’s the key to the storage shed. Take all or as much as you need.”

At noon, Drue changed into a tankini and walked out onto the deck. She could feel the heat of the sand beneath the rubber soles of her flip-flops as she made her way along the dune path to the beach. She dropped her towel and shoes and waded through the shallow water until it was up to her neck. The Gulf was warmer than she’d remembered. She floated on her back and forced herself to just breathe, letting the gentle waves pull her back toward the shore before paddling back out and washing ashore a dozen times.

For a moment, she wondered when the last time was that she’d actually felt the balm of salt water on her skin. And then she remembered. It was the day of the accident.

Hundreds of people were scattered across the beach today, huddling under umbrellas or stretched out on blankets and chairs. Music drifted through the air as she sat on the hard-packed wet sand, her legs stretched out in front of her.