I shrugged, and Olivia crossed her arms. “Do you mean to tell me that we have done all of this—all of this—for nothing?”

Olivia is a dreamer, a talker. She will talk, talk, talk about something, and when it doesn’t magically materialize, she is flabbergasted because, even though she has done absolutely nothing to help the situation on its way, she feels like she has. I usually think it’s hilarious, but tonight it didn’t seem funny at all.

“I don’t know, Liv. I could be wrong. I have been wrong before. I think I’m just so happy to see her smile again.”

She took a fortifying sip of her wine. “I am, too. Obviously. But I want to see him happy, too, Liz. It has been years, and I’m just afraid that he’ll never find joy again. He lights up when Amelia is around.” She shrugged. “He always has.”

Now I was torn. I wanted Amelia to be happy. But what if she could be happy with Parker? We had thought she could be happy with Mason, but that was before, well, everything. And I felt grateful that she hadn’t gone down with his sinking ship. A lot of girls her age would have. And I was grateful that my friendship with Liv had recovered. A lesser friendship never would have survived.

“You know what, Liv? I think it’s time for you to tell him.”

She nodded stoically. “Are you sure?”

“She might settle down with this Harris. And I’m okay with that. But this also might be the last chance, if Parker really that way, for him to tell her.”

She took the last sip of her chardonnay and stood up. I stood, too, and tried to hand her the bottle back, but she waved it away.

“Nothing to do now but let the chips fall where they may,” Liv said. Usually, I had an idea of where I wanted the chips to fall, but, on this point, I was a little torn. I said a silent prayer for it all to work out. Whether she chose Harris or Parker—or simply lived out the rest of her life alone—all I wanted was for my daughter to be happy again.

Amelia ASPARAGUS

I KNEW THE FISHING TOURNAMENT had gone even worse than I’d expected as soon as I saw all their faces. And that’s saying a lot because I expected it to go truly terribly. Maybe he had thrown up. Or maybe he had let a fish get away.

“Cool boyfriend you have there,” Mason said, under his breath, as he slid by me.

I glanced up at Parker, who rolled his eyes and shook his head, but then flashed me a tiny, secret smile that made my heart race—and my guilty conscience surge. Dad had gone straight upstairs, which was a good call because they all smelled horrific after a day of sun, wind, sweat, beer, and, yes, fish guts.