“Bad news,” Letty told her boss when she returned to the office. “Ruth was right. Every single one of those loungers is on its last legs. All the webbing is rotted out. And if one of the oldsters does fall through one and get injured, I’m afraid we’ll have a lawsuit on our hands.”

Ava smiled at Letty’s use of the word “our” but didn’t make mention of it. She pointed to the computer screen, where she’d been pricing lounge chairs from a commercial furniture company.

“Those don’t look much better than what you’ve got now,” Letty said. “What about something a little sturdier? Like cast aluminum, or better yet, teak?”

“Like this?” Ava scrolled down to a photo of a grouping of teak outdoor furniture. “See the price of them?”

“Wow. Twelve hundred dollars?”

“And that’s wholesale. And it doesn’t include cushions,” Ava said.

Letty was reading the product description. “Plus, the delivery time is at least six weeks. We’ll have a mutiny on our hands if we don’t have lounge chairs for the pool. Couldn’t we just buy something locally?”

“There’s that factory-outlet patio place up on US 19 in Clearwater,” Ava said. “I’ve never been in there.…”

“I see their television commercials all the time,” Letty said. “Maybe we should check it out.”

“Agreed. And I’m putting you in charge of this little project,” Ava said. “You could run up there now. If you see something that will work, go ahead and buy it.”

“Really? You trust me to make a big decision like that? We need what? At least a dozen chairs?”

“Make it sixteen,” Ava said. “I’m tired of listening to guests bickering over who gets the ‘good’ chairs. Price out some drinks tables to go between the loungers while you’re there. You can take pictures of what you’ve chosen and text me. Okay?”

Letty glanced out the window.

“Don’t worry about Maya,” Ava said, anticipating Letty’s concern. “I’ll walk over there in an hour, get her into some dry clothes, and feed her lunch. Isabelle will be home from school around one, and then she can take over.”

“You’re the boss,” Letty said.

“Stop somewhere and buy yourself a nice lunch,” Ava said, handing her a credit card. “It’s on me.”

Letty sat under an umbrella on the patio of a French bistro just up the beach road from the Murmuring Surf, and after her lunch arrived—steamed stone crab claws with a tangy mustard sauce and a crisp green salad—she sat very still for a moment, feeling alternate waves of guilt and giddiness.