“Jesus, lady,” Scott said, taken aback by her tone. He scowled at her.

“Isn’t that why you go on vacation? Isn’t that the point? To spend time with your family? You’re here to make memories with your girls, aren’t you? It’s like you’re trying to come up with ways to piss off your wife. What’re ya thinkin’, man?”

Poppy didn’t give a shit what happened between Scott and Lisa once the vacation was over, but she’d had about enough drama for the rest of the week. The two of them were treading on thin ice, thinking they could get through vacation with their daughters none the wiser if they kept this up.

Scott said, “You really think Lisa even cares what I do? Pop, you know we’ve got our problems. I know Lisa confides in you, and I’m fine with that. She talks to you more than she talks to me. My wife can’t stand me!” He seemed half amused by this, but there was also an edge to his voice, there was a wound. “Anyway, I figure I’m doing Lisa a favor spending half the day on the golf course. Otherwise we’re gonna be at each other’s throats all day.”

Poppy considered this. “You might be right, actually,” she said.

“Of course I’m right,” Scott said. “My wife really and truly hates me. Serious. She doesn’t want to touch me with a ten-foot pole.”

“Are you saying . . .” Poppy paused. She didn’t want to reveal too much. Even if he wasn’t lying about playing golf, an affair still seemed the best explanation for their troubles—the erratic sex life, the emotional gulf between them, the callous resentment. “Are you saying you don’t think you’ve given her any reason?”

Scott grew quiet. He stared far out over the charcoal ocean. “I don’t know,” he eventually said. “I often wonder.”

Poppy felt a sudden pang of consternation. Unsure of herself. She pictured Scott (if he really was innocent in all of this) seeing his wife day after day and wondering in earnest, What have I done to deflate her yet again? This made Poppy seriously sad.

“Sorry I snapped at you,” she said. “I take it back. What do I know?” She blew her wet nose into her wet fingers and rinsed them in the ocean. “I don’t know nothin’.”

Scott laughed. “You’re OK,” he said. He took off his sunglasses, dunked, surfaced again.

He looked old and tired, eyes as red-rimmed as a hound’s.

The possibility that she might have misjudged the situation with Scott and Lisa depressed Poppy in curious ways. Was it possible for two people to fall this badly out of sync with each other without either of them being to blame? No discernible letdown or betrayal, just . . . the love ended? God, could that happen? No, no, that didn’t just happen to people. It couldn’t. There had to be more, had to be something Poppy didn’t know.

11

THE FAMILIES DINED outside that evening: corn on the cob, grilled pork chops, salad with walnuts and peaches, store-bought key lime pie and Cool Whip. The air was very warm but silky and light, less humid than the previous evening. Sunburns were turning to suntans, eyes bright against browned faces, toes cracked from hot sand and salt. It surprised Poppy how pleasant the company felt around the table, considering the drama from earlier in the day. Lisa and Scott seemed relaxed in one another’s presence. Kimmy and Alex made daggers out of their corn cobs and prodded each other. Ryan wore a sleepy, affable smile. Even Rae seemed to be in good spirits.