Ruth unlocked the door, pushed it open, and dragged the luggage cart into the room. As her mother had taught her, she opened the thick aqua curtains, allowing light to rush inside.

Mrs. Manchester dropped her purse on the couch, opened the sliding door, and inhaled the salt air as she stared at the calm, smooth waters. “How’s the weather supposed to be this week?”

“Daddy said clear skies.” Ruth unloaded the luggage into the living room and pushed the cart to the open door.

“Good. This place can be rather bleak in bad weather,” Mrs. Manchester said.

“Can I get anything else for you?” Ruth asked.

Mrs. Manchester turned, studied Ruth for a beat, and then handed her a folded dollar bill. “No, that’s all, Ruth. Thank you.”

Ruth nodded, closed the door, and pushed the cart toward registration, pocketing the money. The weight of the luggage gone, the front wheel wobbled as she crossed the lobby and found her mother loading luggage onto another cart.

She recognized the Osborns and their four children. Jessie, at twelve, was the oldest. Next, the twins, Gary and Grant, both boys, were ten, and the youngest, Billy, eight. Mrs. Osborn raised a cigarette to her red lips and inhaled deeply before she rose out of the car. A tap on the cigarette, and a long ash fell to the ground.

Mama’s smile was more relaxed. “Now summer has begun.”

“Edna, it really begins when I’m sitting by that pool with a cold gin and tonic in my hand,” Mrs. Osborn said.

“Well, the bar is always open,” Mama said, smiling. “Let’s get you signed in, find your keys, and you can head to your room. The pool is waiting, and today is one of the prettiest days we’ve had in weeks.”

“Bless you, Edna. I’ve been dreaming about this place for weeks,” Mrs. Osborn said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

To Ruth’s disappointment, Jessie had grown taller, and her breasts also filled out her short-sleeved navy-blue top. “Hey, Ruth.”

Ruth tugged on the hem of her shirt. “Jessie. Good to see you. Bonnie is here.”

“Great. I’m getting changed and going swimming right now.”

A breeze caught her copper bangs and brushed them off her freckled face, already turning pink in the sun. “Well, I’ll see you later.”

“Sure.” Ruth watched the girl hurry inside, not sure if she was glad or disappointed that they’d never been friends.

The cars kept rolling in. Dora Bernard, a tall, thin girl with brown hair, arrived with her family just after one. She still wore wire-rimmed glasses, though she had a sleeker, more stylish pair than last year, and thankfully, her breasts had not exploded off her chest. Her green dress and smooth summer sandals looked new. But all these girls had new outfits and swimwear for the summer.

It was past three o’clock when Ruth and Talley had a break. They went to the kitchen to find her father scraping cooking scraps into a bucket that he’d give to the crabmen to bait their pots.