Peter never joined his wife and children because of work, he always said. But Ann wasn’t so naive. In fact, she often wondered if he even bothered to go into the office while they were away. Given how tense and withdrawn he’d been after their last argument, she was glad to have this break.

“The girls seem to be having a lovely time,” Maggie said.

Ann peered over the tops of her sunglasses at the three girls sitting at their own table. She had been disappointed when Bonnie announced that she and her friends would be going their own way this year. Now Bonnie, Jessie, and Dora all sat by the pool, posturing and doing their best to imitate their mothers.

She glanced around the pool and realized she didn’t see Pete Jr. Likely on the beach. The boy was always searching for buried treasure.

She was considering going in search of him just as he sauntered onto the pool deck from the beach, his hair damp and tousled and sand covering his feet. He dropped his towel and jumped in the pool.

Ann raised her hand and waved until Ruth looked her way. It was Ruth’s first year working in the drink hut, but she was well suited for her role. When the girl looked her way, Ann held up her empty glass and rattled it.

Ruth nodded and dashed inside to get a gin and tonic. Whoever was making the drinks this year was a little heavy handed on the gin, but Peter wasn’t here, and who did it hurt in the end?

“Odd to have a twelve-year-old serving your drink,” Maggie said.

“She’s not drinking it,” Ann said. “And she appears mature beyond her years.”

“Where’s Henry? He’s always been the bartender,” Maggie asked.

Henry Anderson, tall and lean, with tanned skin that set off his blue eyes, had worked at the hotel for fifteen years. He was an attractive guy, in a working man’s kind of way. He kept his distance from the mothers no matter how much they flirted with him.

“I don’t know,” Ann said. “He’s never been totally reliable.”

The girl returned with a tray sporting a stout glass with ice floating in a fizzy liquid. She set the drink in front of Ann. “Can I get anyone anything else?”

“No, thank you, dear.” The girl’s skin was darker than she remembered. Brown as a berry. Still, very pretty.

“I must say you’ve grown over the winter,” Maggie said. “You must be an inch taller.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ruth said. She removed the order ticket from her apron pocket and set it on the table with a pen.

Ann’s signature was barely legible. “How’s your mother doing? I haven’t seen much of her today.”

“She’s in the kitchen helping Daddy with the lunch buffet.”

“Is Edna doing well?” Maggie asked.