“Mom?” said Katie. The line was moving up; there was a family of four in front of them, and after that it would be their turn. “What are you getting?”

“I think I’ll have my usual,” Sherri told Katie. “Chocolate with chocolate sprinkles.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “They have like four hundred flavors here and you’re getting the same thing you always get? You’re so predictable, Mom.”

“I know,” Sherri said. “I’m completely predictable.” Sherri tried to look rueful but she couldn’t do it genuinely, because predictable implied safe and safe implied boring and to Sherri Griffin on that evening, on the far edge of summer, on the outer reaches of Katie’s childhood, boring seemed like the most beautiful word in the world.

She just had one final item on her to-do list.

89.

Alexa

On the very last day of summer, Alexa served, among other things, one Ringer, three sugar cones of Moose Tracks, one cone of chocolate, and one dish of Green Monster. She was in the back, checking on the supplies of paper napkins and spoons, when the “ring for service” bell went off.

“Amazon!” called Hannah, and Alexa rolled her eyes, because wasn’t it Hannah’s turn to help the next customer? “Someone’s looking for you!” Hannah called again, super chipper.

Alexa growled, “Coming,” and tugged her apron back into place. She was arranging her face into her best customer service smile when she saw Sherri Griffin. Alexa hadn’t seen Sherri since the night Cam died, since Sherri had taken Morgan and Katie away while Alexa and her mom talked to the police. She’d been waiting for this conversation, though: the text she’d sent that night, then the “false alarm” text after; obviously those wouldn’t go without a follow-up.

“Hi, Sherri,” said Alexa. She pretended cheer but she knew her uncertainty was showing through.

“Hello, Alexa,” said Sherri, all business. Her hair, which was pulled into a ponytail, was back to brown; she looked much less arresting than she had the night of the party. No. Not arresting. Bad choice of words. Much less . . . eye-catching. But still, with the right styling, Alexa believed the brown could look pretty. Alexa could show Sherri a few tricks with a super-wide curling iron, if she ever wanted to see.

“Is Katie with you?” Alexa asked.

“Katie’s at home,” Sherri said. “Packing her backpack for tomorrow. I came to talk to you.”

“Here?”

“Not here. No. Definitely not. Plum Island Grille. I’ll be there at seven.”

So much for catching the end of the meal with Mr. Bennett. This wasn’t a question. This was an order. “Got it,” said Alexa. “I’ll see you there.”

“Who was that, Amazon?” asked Hannah after Sherri had departed.

Alexa smiled as sweetly as she could manage and said, “Just a mom of one of my sister’s friends. And please stop calling me Amazon. It’s really getting tiresome.”