Rob closed his eyes and smelled the salt in the air. The scent reminded him of his final weekend on the East Coast, when Tom had offered to take him, Hannah, Vicki, Bee, and Rich to his family’s summer house on Cape Cod.

Rob had spent much of the weekend sour about the fact that he couldn’t sleep in Hannah’s room. They’d barely talked since the school year had ended, and they’d ridden in separate cars on the Cape—she with Vicki and Rich, and he with Tom and Bee. A day into the trip, Rob noticed that Hannah had become more comfortable with Tom. They took an early walk together on the beach without the rest of the group. They sat next to each other at dinner.

“Don’t you think they’re cute?” Bee had asked Rob on the last night of the trip, as Tom, Hannah, Vicki, and Rich examined a mess of seaweed a few feet in front of them.

“Who?” Rob had responded apathetically.

“Tom and Hannah,” Bee had said, grinning. “It’s about time Hannah dated someone.”

Rob had grunted angrily as he’d watched Tom playfully push Hannah toward the water, as if he might throw her into the still-freezing waves. Hannah had screamed wildly, trying to outrun Tom’s arms, which eventually grabbed her around her waist.

Rob figured they’d just started dating that weekend. He wondered now how much time Hannah later spent in Yarmouth Port with Tom’s family, whether she summered with the Keatings, sharing a room with Tom in that classic white Cape house a mile from the water.

Rob staggered back suddenly, a loud squeaking noise and a thud jolting him from his memory. He turned to face the street and saw a young man opening the nearby coffee shop. Two customers were already waiting outside.

Rob pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and checked the time. It was eight. If businesses were already opening, it was late enough to wake her up.

Joe

Joe tapped his foot under the table as he picked at his breakfast. Ordinarily he avoided carbohydrates, but the muffins on the buffet at the Governor Calvert House beckoned to him, and he believed that he deserved a crusty, sugary treat before the long ride that awaited him.

He sat next to Donna, his sister-in-law who despised him. She was silent this morning, her face pale. She focused on her plate, deep in thought. Uncharacteristic behavior for Bee’s mother, as far as Joe knew. Usually she’d take a moment like this to pick at his outfit or ask loaded questions about the Vegas crime rate.

Instead she looked forlorn, and Joe found himself experiencing unfamiliar empathy. He assumed this was some sort of mother-of-the-bride letdown. Donna tapped her fingers slowly against her coffee cup as her eyes closed for long blinks.

“Donna,” Joe whispered, interrupting her meditation.

“Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. Of course. Just tired.”

“It was a beautiful wedding,” he said, leaning toward her so he could bump her shoulder with his own.