Ruth and Talley stood in the back, ready to deliver cocktails to the guests, who, as the evening went on, charged more drinks to their rooms. Drink sales had risen, and Mama had already told Daddy earlier that they might turn a profit this summer. He’d chuckled as he rapped his knuckles against the wooden prep counter.

Mr. Manchester rose from his seat and moved away from the group, wobbling a little as he walked. His wife tossed him a worried glance and seemed to debate if she should follow. She glanced around, swallowed her worry along with the dregs of her gin and tonic, rose, and trailed after him. The two vanished over the dune, but seconds later the wind caught Mr. Manchester’s angry voice before it faded with distance.

The song ended, and the crowd clapped. If they noticed the Manchesters, they were either having too much fun to care or too accustomed to their squabbles to be troubled.

“Are they fighting again, Mama?” Ruth whispered.

She frowned. “Yes.”

“I haven’t been giving him any more drinks,” Talley said. “Just like you said.”

Even for Edna there was a limit to profits. “He’s been drinking from his flask.”

“I didn’t see it,” Ruth said.

“He’s clever,” Mama said. “Let me go check on them.”

“I can go with you,” Ruth offered.

“No, you stay here.” Her fleeting smile didn’t spark much joy.

Ruth and Talley watched Mama walk across the sand and up over the dunes, her flat shoes digging into the earth like she was squashing a bug with each twist of her heel.

“Do you think your mama is going to give him a piece of her mind?” Talley asked.

Ruth flushed. “Yes.”

“He’s a scary guy,” Talley said.

“That’s never stopped Mama.” Ruth didn’t like Mama going toe to toe with men like Mr. Manchester.

“My mama said Edna was always a fighter. She never took guff off of anyone, even when she was a little girl.”

“Who did she have to fight back home?”

“She fought with everyone. It’s hard being the poorest in town. She never would let anyone talk down to her because of it.”

These days Mama saved her fighting for men like Mr. Manchester, guests who refused to pay, or vendors trying to overcharge for a delivery.

A couple of times when the arguments grew too heated, Daddy stepped in. He never raised his voice, but men who were six feet four, even with wooden legs, didn’t have to say much.

“I’m following her,” Ruth said. And before Talley could object, she turned on her heel and hurried after her mother. She’d barely taken ten steps when Talley caught up to her.

“Are you getting your father?” Talley asked.

“He had to ride to the mainland to get more supplies for tomorrow. He won’t be back until late.”

“I’ll come too,” Talley said.