“I guess I was waiting for the right opportunity.” John laughed at this and offered a hug of reconciliation.

Poppy stepped briskly aside and out of reach. She knelt to pick up a sock off the floor, then rearranged her things on the top of the armoire: sunglasses, magazines, sunscreen.

John’s arms were still outstretched. “Oh, come on. Don’t do that, not while we’re on vacation.”

“Do what?” She picked up a damp towel from the floor and flung it over the TV cabinet door to dry.

“That thing you do when you’re mad. Start cleaning, all fast and furious. Yes, just like that.”

“Well I am mad,” Poppy said. “You made me feel stupid.”

“How come?”

“Because you knew I was counting your pills all this time and you let me keep doing it. And then you catch me red-handed, smelling like smoke, and you don’t even say so. You just save it to use as ammo . . .”

“Pop. I let you keep counting my pills even though I knew you were doing it because it makes me feel safe. OK? I get it, even if it bugs the hell out of me. I just hate to see you so worried and so wound up all the time.”

Poppy tossed the sock in her hand into the suitcase at her feet. Irritably, she said, “I wish I loved you less. I really do. Then I could probably relax and enjoy this world a little more.”

Back in the main room, Rae was standing at the sliding glass door that overlooked the patio and the path to the beach. She was wearing a white crop top over denim shorts that were frayed to shreds, and glittery flip-flops. She held a bottle of electric-blue Gatorade. Rain slashed the glass before her.

On the couch behind her, Alex and Kimmy were playing Guess Who? Alex said, “Does your person have black hair?”

“Nope,” Kimmy said.

Alex flipped down the yellow squares displaying the faces of three black-haired people on her board. Click, click, click.

The episode of Jeopardy! had ended, the theme song played, Alex Trebek left his post to shake the hands of the contestants as the credits and disclaimers rolled. Scott tipped his head back and forth in time with the song and harmonized above it. “Doo-dee-doo-dee-doo-dee-doo . . .”

He added a flourish with his hand at the cadence.

Kimmy watched her father, imitated the flourish, then returned to the game. “Is your person making a face like this?” Kimmy said to Alex, and she scrunched her face into a pursed-lipped grimace, brows drawn, eyes narrowed.

Alex looked down at her own board and laughed. “Yes.”

Kimmy asked, “Bernardo?”

“You got it again!” Alex said. “You are really good at this. You know all the people.”

Kimmy said, “I play it at my friend Ashley’s house all the time.”

Alex said, “Who was your person?”

“Maria. She’s my favorite. She’s so pretty, isn’t she?”

Alex said, “I guess so.”