“I’m sorry.”

“I love Flo, don’t get me wrong. She’s been a second mother to me for years. I’m happy to do this for her. Looking at the two of them, I couldn’t just pack up and leave. Not when they both need help. And Flo recognizes so few people these days.”

“Does she recognize you?”

“Oddly, she does. Favors me, in fact.” His smile was quick. “Flo calls for me to help her, rather than Mom. Don’t ask me why. It’s only been a week since I’ve come out of quarantine, but she’s become quite dependent on me.” John shook his head. “She was at my side during the entire construction of the pond. And I mean all the time.” He rolled his eyes. “Giving me directions. Telling me I was doing it all wrong. She was a real pain in the ass. But when it was done, a kind of lucidity came to her eyes—that happens every now and then—and she looked straight in my eyes and said in that curt, sure tone of hers, ‘Good work, John. I’m proud of you.’ ” He paused. “Meant a lot.”

He began walking again and she kept up the pace, pleased to see Luna so interested in all the new smells that she didn’t seem to mind or even realize she was walking on a leash.

“Don’t you miss San Francisco?” she asked.

“There are parts I miss, sure,” he assured her. “But they’re all under lockdown there. All of California has been hit hard with the virus. I’m better off here.”

They walked in silence, pausing from time to time to let the puppy linger at some spot of keen interest.

Cara’s house loomed ahead, bordering an empty lot that had been placed in conservation many years earlier by Russell Bennett, a friend of Lovie’s. Perhaps more than a friend, if rumors she’d heard were true. Linnea would always be grateful to the gentleman from Virginia, whatever his relationship to her grandmother was, for leaving that small bit of beachfront open for sea turtles to nest. And, too, for her to be able to see the ocean, and not someone else’s front porch, from her deck.

Linnea’s daddy had built Cara’s house, and it was without doubt one of the prettiest on Ocean Boulevard. It was more charming than grand, though its size was deceiving to the eye. The large front porch was a signature of her father’s. He felt no home was worth the ground it was built on without plenty of porches.

“You’re awfully quiet,” John said.

“Oh, I’m just thinking about Anna.”

“How’s Annabelle the Southern belle?” John asked.

“Don’t let her hear you say that.”

“I couldn’t resist. She’s a bit… well… vexatious?”

“That’s a fifty-cent word,” she said with a wry smile, then turned her head to check on Luna, who’d stopped again, her little legs trembling as she smelled something exotic. Linnea tugged at Luna’s leash a bit to get her walking again.