Over the hours Ariel worked for her, Polly edited a dozen mysteries and cookbooks, on top of the scripts she vetted. Ariel did some work for Drake, too, and he offered to help her get a real job in Los Angeles, but the futility of the Hollywood process shocked her—all the back-and-forth, and Drake never agreed to film anything; nothing was ever perfect enough to pry him out of hiding. Ariel liked concrete things, and that summer, she’d begun to help Harry with some archaeology jobs and think of a graduate degree, even though Harry was clear that archaeology was as shitty a way to make a living as writing or editing or cooking. He worried he would be responsible for a life of poverty, while Drake promised riches.

It was an interesting tug-of-war, but Ariel had been happy and comfortable with herself, unlike Graham Susak, the boy who’d been behind her in the two-man kayak. Graham had left Seattle to stay with his uncle Vinnie that winter because of some hard time, some incident or depression. There were so many possible ways trouble could manifest at twenty-four that no one pried into it. Graham was two years older than Ariel, tall and handsome and clearly lonely, but though he was articulate while bartending, he hadn’t been able to spit out a word in front of Ariel, and she had been noncommittal. Graham was nice, but not for her—too jocky, too surly. Polly had no idea of how they’d ended up in a kayak together, and no one riding in the other boats seemed to know, either. Ariel’s parents might, but it was unlikely.

Polly had talked to Ariel’s stepfather only at graduations and when he delivered UPS packages; since the end of the relationship with Harry, she’d talked to Ariel’s mother only when she called to track down her daughter. Now she felt queasy at the idea of seeing the family, and she’d given a little puff of relief when Harry said to wait to go by with food. Food meant death, and the Delgados still held out hope. They were bitter that people didn’t share it. How long could you make yourself believe that your child was alive and lying on a riverbank, waiting for rescue, but what was the alternative? All the hard thoughts: Had there been pain? Had Ariel known she was drowning, or had there not been enough time to think? And how on earth had someone with as much experience on rivers as Graham let it happen?