I looked up, and in the distance I saw a figure on my porch, shimmering. I thought the rough ocean had shaken my brains loose, or that the afternoon light was playing tricks on my vision, but as I walked, staggered really, picking up my towel on the way, the figure on the porch did not evaporate. I cried out her name—“Irene!”—and flew up the stairs. I threw my arms around her.

She held me close, half laughing, half crying, and brushed the salty, sandy mess I’d made from her crisp summer dress. “I told Gordon it just wasn’t fair to blame you for everything.”

“I’m sure he disagreed.”

“He did, but I don’t care. He ignores me when I tell him that he should work less, that he should let up, so I get to ignore him.”

“Is he well now?”

“He went back to the studio the day after he got out of the hospital. What does that tell you?”

“That he’s not well and he doesn’t care.”

She looked around, frowned to see the snapshots of Terrence and me on the desk, but she did not comment. “Why are all your file cabinets stacked up here?”

“What else was I going to do with them? I couldn’t leave them at Clara Bow Drive, not after what happened.”

“Oh, yes. I have this for you.” She opened her purse. “It’s an eviction notice for Clara Bow Drive, and a big fat bill for fixing the broken windows, and removing the red paint and the dead dog. Melvin Grant sent it to me because I signed the lease.”

In his letter, Melvin Grant also wrote that he had personally talked the city out of suing me for zoning infractions, and the bill for those services would be sent separately. At least I wasn’t evicted from this Malibu place. Ever since Leon had said he was through with me, I lived in fear of that.

“Melvin Grant will have to get in line to get paid,” I said, flinging the letter to the desk. I went into the bedroom, peeled off my swimsuit, and put on some capris and a T-shirt. Sand still stuck to my skin.

“Denise had her baby yesterday,” Irene called out. “A boy. Aaron Leon Greene.”

“Leon must be ecstatic.” I came out, toweling the salt water from my hair.

“Bursting with joy even though our uncle Aaron looks like a marshmallow with a face.”

We both started laughing, and suddenly it seemed like old times as I got us two Cokes and we went outside. Sunshine and wind played over us, and we watched the distant surfers bobbing as Irene told me how she and Gordon had gone to the hospital with Leon and waited with him all night long while Denise went through labor.