From the photos I’ve seen online, Point Park in May is spectacular. This point is where migrating whales scrape their barnacles off as they swim past. It’s the place where the ocean seems to stretch out forever. This point, once you climb to the top of it, is magical and unique and deadly all at the same time, or so I’ve heard. It’s off-limits, so no one is allowed to go there. Mary knew that, but she went there anyway.

It’s Betsy’s fault. Betsy lured Mary to the park for a hike for some reason. And she is hanging out there today. That’s creepy. I look down and Betsy’s dot has disappeared.

My tracker app buzzes. David is on the move. For almost a year now, it’s been my game to guess which of the three regular spots he’ll drive to. Where’s Waldo?, in husband form. There’s the romantic restaurant nestled in the heart of the village in Laguna Beach, Salerno’s, famous for “romantic” Italian food. Most people won’t recognize him there, though the hostess most certainly does by now, as he’s a regular. When I placed my delivery order Sunday night, the waiter on the phone was excited for my first to-go order, but couldn’t wait to see me again in person. I’ve never been to Salerno’s. How cute of Kylie to be playing Mrs. Harris. My jaw tenses.

Focus, Jane.

We’re playing our Where’s David Dining Tonight? game. If he’s tired and confident, he’ll opt for his backup spot, closer to home, but still welcoming. A stand-alone Mexican restaurant with a huge bar scene full of older women—my age—and divorced men who don’t want anything to do with a woman their own age. It’s a frustrating scene I can’t imagine choosing to be a part of, but my husband, the new David, is a regular. What a guy.

Oh, but no, according to his dot on my app tonight he’s chosen the quiet restaurant with the ocean view near Heisler Park. It was our favorite when we first moved here, before we knew the “locals” never go there, only the tourists. Las Brisas was where I saved Mary when she inhaled a piece of shrimp. You’d think he’d remember that, honor that memory.

And because it’s primarily tourists, David can blend in there, or so he thinks. The oceanfront, sculpture-filled Heisler Park is lovely this time of evening. It’s a Laguna Beach treasure.

I haven’t been to the park in a while. It’s such a nice evening. And I look good, barely recognizable from the grieving mother I was just a day before. Why not take a stroll?