Kimmy sang the tune from a Meow Mix commercial.

John made his way up the wooden stairs, unspeakably weary. His clothing was stiff and damp, having at one point been soaked with sweat, then with rainwater, now partially sun-dried, with some fresh sweat added to the mix. His hair was matted and his sneakers were soaked. He wheezed with every step.

Lisa said, “You poor thing!”

Kimmy said, “Daddy was telling us how the cart broke down.”

Scott nodded animatedly, evidently both revived and restored to good spirits by however he had spent the past two hours. He said, “I was just telling them we figured it was either the battery or the alternator.”

John blinked.

Scott said, “So? Which was it?”

“Alternator,” John said dully.

“I had a feeling,” Scott said. “Anyway, after you headed off to the clubhouse, a couple guys came by in their cart, saw me stranded out there. They’d seen the forecast and offered to take me back to their condo for cover, by the north end of the course. I had a cocktail at their place. Missed that storm by the skin of our teeth; rain started up the second we got to the condo. Anyway, we hung out for a while, then they ran me over here.”

“I see,” John said.

Alex said, “Daddy, did you get caught in the storm?” She was wearing a backwards baseball cap and stacking cheese cubes on a toothpick.

John said, “No, I made it to the clubhouse.”

“Good,” Scott said. “I’m relieved to hear it. Once those guys came for me, I thought about having them come for you too, in case you hadn’t made it back, but figured you had to be close, you’d been gone so long, and I figured you were gonna wait out the storm in the clubhouse. I just hoped that you weren’t worrying about me.”

John said, “Not really.”

Alex said, “We didn’t get caught in the storm down at the beach, but it was close. We saw it coming and brought everything in like a split second before it started to lightning.” She gripped a cheese cube with her lips.

John said, “Reckon I could use a shower,” and he went in the direction of the door. He passed the grill, where many pieces of raw chicken coated with an orange dry rub were laid out in neat rows.

From his seat, Scott said, “We’ve got dinner under control, don’t worry about a thing. I just put the chicken on. It’ll be ready”—he paused and turned to Lisa—“whaddaya think, hon? ’Bout ten minutes?”

Lisa was replenishing the cheese plate for the children. Her eyes darted to Scott with a look of annoyance. “The coals are barely even warm yet. I don’t know why you wanted to put it on already. It’s gonna be at least an hour.”

“Alrighty, then.” Scott shrugged helplessly.

Kimmy said, “Daddy, you’re stupid!”

This made Rae laugh, and Kimmy was so pleased by this slight affirmation from her older sister that she said it again: “Daddy, you are stupid!”