“Is that really you?” It was remarkable to see her transform at that moment, from Realtor to surfer, professional to friend, like a play of the light.

“Kit?”

“Oh God, I haven’t heard that name in years. I go by Carol now.”

“Why would you go from Kit to Carol?”

Carol—no, Kit—laughed, a low, grumbly laugh that reminded Poppy of all the times they’d gotten high together at Dirk’s. “That was a name I gave myself when I started surfing. Typical teenage-girl thing to do, trying to change my identity. The surfer persona. I thought it would catch on, but I guess I wasn’t cool enough for Kit.”

“I thought you were Kit. And cool. Seriously, you changed my life.”

“Oh stop.”

“You did! I became a surfer because of you. You’ll always be Kit to me.”

Carol looked around the house. “I can’t believe you’re Ann’s sister. The ‘itinerant.’”

“Is that what she called me?”

“Sure did. She’s a ball-breaker.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You guys are really related?” She looked at the Wisconsin Badgers mug on the table. “I should have put it together. You were, like, the only person I’d ever known from the Midwest.”

“I’m so exotic.”

“God, I can’t believe this is your house. Hey, sorry about your parents. I was afraid to ask Ann what happened. I heard from the librarian in town. Everyone loved your mom and dad.”

“Thanks.”

“This place is a wicked mess.”

“Yeah—I know.”

Carol frowned. “You’re depressed.”

“I probably am.”

“Swells are supposed to be good tomorrow. Offshore. Storm coming. Let’s go.”

Poppy crossed her arms tight in front of her, defensive. “I don’t really surf anymore. It’s been a long time. And I’m used to warmer water.”

Carol smiled.

“I don’t even have a wet suit.”

“Some things don’t change. You never had any gear, Wisconsin. I’ve got an extra, I’ll bring it by. See you in the morning at your home beach. Let’s get you out of your funk.”

Carol was about to put a folder on the kitchen table but hesitated. “I have some paperwork for Ann.”

“She’s never here. She’s avoiding me.”

“She’d better avoid me now, too.” Carol set the folder on top of the bookshelf. “Can you give this to her when she finally shows up? She won’t answer my calls.”

“She won’t answer mine, either.”