The man named Jacob seemed to be Matthew’s boyfriend. He looked like he could be an underwear model but was actually a painter. He was as shy as Matthew was gregarious, and though he smiled warmly at everyone, he seemed happy to listen rather than participate in the conversation.

Lur was originally from Cuba and had come to Tulane for grad school the year before. She studied sociology, as did Rae, and they’d met at a lecture and become fast friends. Lur was interested to hear about Maine—since arriving in the U.S., she’d only traveled around Louisiana and Texas.

As the sun set, solar-powered lights began to glow around the yard. It was a warm evening for December, and people began to get in the pool.

Veronica had on a stunning white bikini, Jacob and Matthew both sported cute swim trunks, and Carys undressed to reveal her gorgeous curves in a high-waisted suit that looked like something out of a glam forties movie.

Suddenly, Greta felt self-conscious.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Carys asked.

“Oh, well, I didn’t bring a suit,” Greta hemmed. “So I’m just wearing a sports bra and underwear.”

“No one cares. Don’t worry about it,” Carys said.

“Are you sure?”

Lur had unwrapped her dress and was sliding into the pool in a belted red one-piece that showed off multiple pin-up tattoos.

“Absolutely positive,” Carys said. She pressed a kiss to Greta’s lips.

Then Helen stripped their T-shirt and jeans off to reveal they were wearing nearly the same thing as Greta.

“See?”

She nodded, relieved.

The water was warmer than she’d expected. In Maine, even in the summer, the bay and ocean were chilly, and Greta had tightened her muscles in anticipation. But this felt like stepping into a cool bath, and Greta relaxed and let the water hold her.

They bopped a ball around for a little while, but mostly people just kept chatting, only in the water.

“How was your gardening thing this morning?” Carys asked.

“It was so cool,” Greta said and told her all about Muriel’s friends and the work they did helping get plants and flowers into more neighborhoods in the city.

“Hey, Tana,” Carys called, and Tana swam over to them. “Were you telling me about doing new after-school activities with your kids?”

“Yeah, we’re doing this whole fuckin’ programming initiative right now. If the damn school will cough up the money.”

“Are you doing anything with gardens?”

“Shit, yeah. We’re trying to get some of those fuckin’…whaddaya call ’em? Wooden beds?”

“Raised beds?” Greta offered.

“Yeah, those. I read that growing your own shit makes kids more excited to eat their vegetables or some crap.”

Greta smiled and imagined Tana swearing this much around middle school kids.

“Well, Greta is a huge plant nerd. Would you ever want someone to tell the kids about carnivorous plants?”