She took Lisa’s hand. “I think you should take some deep breaths, maybe go for a swim, maybe go inside and have a glass of wine and a lie-down . . . Things will shake out how they’re gonna shake out.” Poppy stopped speaking when she saw that Ryan, who had been napping on his towel several yards away, shifted his position, appearing to wake. “None of this is your fault,” Poppy continued in a lower voice.

Ryan slowly worked his way up to a seated position and looked casually their way. The T-shirt that had covered his face was now draped around his neck like a shawl. “Hey, Ma,” he said. “I’m gonna go in for a snack. You want me to bring you anything?”

“No, I’m fine, hon,” Poppy said.

She watched Ryan for a bit as he loped sleepily toward the house. It was curious, she thought, how lackluster Ryan seemed today, given his high energy yesterday—thrashing in the waves with Kimmy and Alex, collecting crabs and shells and scampering around like a little kid all day, no need for a nap. Maybe he slept poorly last night, she thought. She’d ask him before bed tonight if he wanted the air conditioning adjusted lower or higher in his room, or if he wanted a different pillow.

Beside her, Lisa suddenly inhaled so forcefully her throat rattled, and she scrambled to her feet, sand kicking out to both sides. “No,” Lisa whispered under her breath. Then she said “NO!” again, and this time it was a cry, loud and anguished. Then she was running toward the water, her cover-up wrap dress undone and flapping out at her sides like huge, lopsided white wings.

Poppy’s startled gaze reached the shore, Lisa’s destination.

Next to Rae’s beach chair was a chocolate Lab, nuzzling up to Rae’s neck as she draped an arm over its back. The dog’s tongue was long and pink against Rae’s face. Keats Firestone stood there, lean and muscular in swim trunks and a backwards hat, smiling down at Rae, the dog’s leash wrapped loosely around his wrist.

“Oh, shit,” Poppy breathed.

She rose from her chair, not particularly wanting to be at Lisa’s side when the confrontation took place, but wanting to be close enough that she could get a good read on the situation and intervene if necessary.

Poppy began to jog slowly in the direction of the water just as Lisa was reaching Rae’s beach chair. Poppy couldn’t hear the language Lisa used, but she could make out some very emphatic words spoken, accompanied by a shooing motion. Then Keats turned abruptly, pulled the dog by its leash, and started speed-walking back from where he had come. Poppy watched as he speed-walked, then he jogged, then he ran.

When Poppy reached her, Lisa was holding her sunglasses in one hand, wiping her face with the back of her wrist. Her face was splotchy red on white, like peppermint, and she was shuddering with uneven breaths.