“Okay,” Ava said. “The food’s ready. Letty, you get out there and start selling tickets. Let’s get this show on the road.”

People streamed into the rec room. A van pulled up and disgorged eight elderly guests from the SeaBreeze Motel, all dressed in matching aqua SeaBreeze T-shirts and sun visors. Letty sold tickets, made change, and politely but firmly refused (per Ava’s instructions) to accept personal checks or Canadian currency.

She could tell from the noise from inside that the tournament had begun, but she was too busy to get up and spectate. At some point, Ava brought her a plate of chicken wings and a glass of the worst white wine she’d ever tasted. Cheers and boos erupted from the rec room. At eight thirty, Joe came outside, dragging a folding chair with him. His hair was damp with sweat and his MURMURING SURF MARAUDERS T-shirt stuck to his chest.

To Letty’s surprise, she thought he looked cute. Hot even.

“I thought you were playing in the tournament.”

“I got skunked,” he said, looking chagrined. “By an eighty-year-old retired gym teacher from Milwaukee.” He shook his fist in mock indignation. “Damn those professional Ping-Pongers at the Michigander!”

Letty cocked her head. “Will you ever get over the disappointment?”

“No. The worst of it is, the SeaBreeze guys didn’t even want me to play. They said I was a ringer because I don’t live here.”

“Then why did you get to play?”

He laughed. “When your mom runs the tournament, your mom makes the rules.”

“So who won?” Letty asked, craning her neck to look inside the door.

“Not us. Merwin’s playing now. We’re doomed. Looks like the coveted golden Ping-Pong paddle will once again be awarded to our archenemies.”

He jerked his head in the direction of the beach. “Come on, let’s blow this pop stand.”

“I can’t,” she said. “I’m on duty.”

“So clock out,” Joe said. “Merwin’s going down and people will be leaving here in droves in five minutes.” He tugged at her hand. “Come on. Ava told me to tell you it’s okay. You’ve been working all day, with hardly a break. The Feldmans are going to help her clean up.”

“I shouldn’t,” Letty said reluctantly. “If Maya wakes up and I’m not there…”

“Isabelle’s there,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “For God’s sake, Letty. It’s not even nine o’clock yet. You haven’t even been here three weeks and you’re already turning into an early bird.”

“Where are we going?” They were walking along the beach, headed south. A silver sliver of a moon splashed its reflection on the Gulf, and the stars looked like pinpricks in the dark sky. Letty stopped momentarily in the ankle-high surf, letting the gentle waves roll over her feet. “Water’s kind of cold,” she said, surprised.