“I can try.”

Eventually, Zadie gave a conciliatory nod, and Nora clapped her hands together. “Great! This Saturday. Pack your swimsuit.”

Zadie returned to her room and pulled her suitcase out from under the bed. She blew the dust bunnies off it and began to pack, grabbing two swimsuits, just in case.

They dropped their bags off at the Sailor’s Knot Motel, a one-story white stucco building with “views” of the Gulf that required a fair amount of squinting. Once they had claimed their sides of the bed and slathered themselves in sunscreen, Nora and Zadie walked the two blocks to the beach past brightly colored souvenir shops and men selling Popsicles out of refrigerated carts.

The beach itself was crowded, so they chose a spot on the far end next to a rocky groin and spread out their towels on the sand. Sensing her mother wanted to chat, Zadie buried her nose in the book she’d brought with her. Nora took the hint, but her compliance lasted only thirty seconds before she asked, “How is that?”

“Good,” Zadie grunted.

“What’s it about?” Nora was lying on her side now, with her head in her hand, peering at her daughter through oversize sunglasses.

“It’s about a man returning home from war.”

“Which war?”

“Two, I think.”

“Is it a love story?”

“Yeah.”

“Think I’d like it?”

“I dunno.” Zadie could tell her mom was trying, but the small talk was making her uncomfortable. “It’s kind of depressing.”

“Most love stories are.”

Zadie nodded, unsure of whether her mom was still talking about books. Nora hadn’t had many successful relationships in her life. Neither Zadie’s nor Finn’s dad had made the list. The only boyfriend whose name Zadie even remembered was a man named Doug, whom her mom had asked out while he was in the process of towing her car. “He was so sweet about it,” Nora had said. “He kept apologizing.” They’d lasted almost six months, Doug and her mother. She never actually told Zadie why they’d split up.

Nora reached into her bag and pulled out her taxicab-yellow Walkman. “Mom, you know they have iPods, now? You can fit thousands of songs on them.”

“But I like my Walkman,” Nora said. “I got it when I took you to see REO Speedwagon.”

“You took me to see REO Speedwagon? How old was I?”

“Six, I think. You didn’t care for it.”

“I’m shocked.”

“We left after three songs and got French fries.”

“And a Walkman.”

“And a Walkman.” Nora smiled and held out an earbud to her daughter. “Wanna share?”

“Is it REO Speedwagon?”

“No.”

“Then okay.”

The tape reached its end with a pop and Zadie opened her eyes. I must have dozed off, she thought as she blinked the floaters from her eyes and turned to face her mother. But Nora was no longer lying beside her.