Will watched the sky for another minute and then shrugged. There was nothing they could do about it now, unless they pulled the tubes over to the bank and walked all the way back up the road to their cars. “If you say so.”

Will kept his eye on the clouds, but soon he was busy passing out beers and pulling the flotilla over to the rope swing that hung from a tree halfway down their route. They lodged their tubes against the bank and took turns climbing the tree and swinging from its branches on the squeaking rope, holding on until they were out over the deepest water, and then letting go.

Long after everyone else had grown tired and gone back to drinking beer in their tubes, Will and Trip kept going, their arcs going higher and their bodies twisting into flips and swan dives. Rosie called out scores, and the brothers were in a dead heat.

For his last jump, Will gripped the rope tightly and climbed to the highest branch, past the wooden steps nailed into the trunk by kids a generation before them. They never jumped from up here. He inched along the branch and then stood, wobbling, with the rope clutched in his hands. He looked down at his friends, waiting in the water. Then, with a whoop, he went soaring down and then out, like a bird taking flight. At the last moment he released the rope and dropped into the river with his arms raised triumphantly. When he popped back up, he looked over at Trip, who just shook his head with a grin.

“You win,” Trip said. And then, helping Will back into his tube: “You always wanted it more.”

“What?” Will asked.

“Everything.”

When Will frowned, Trip added: “It’s all good. You worked hard for it.”

“I wouldn’t be going if you hadn’t taken the fall for me,” Will said.

They pushed off from the bank and continued floating down the river. The sky grew darker, and the air was still and humid. June batted away a mosquito. “Is it going to rain?” she asked, frowning.

“Nope,” Will and Trip said at the same time. “It’ll hold.”

The trees on the right bank gave way to a clearing. There, in front of them, was the house. They all stared at it, their conversation coming to a halt. They could see men working on the decks. As usual, Mr. Finch had turned a problem into an opportunity—in this case, keeping one of his construction teams working during the recession, while also keeping the case from dragging on and making more headlines that might be bad for business.

“It’s actually a pretty cool house,” Rosie said.