“Can I help you?” asks a guy folding shirts in the corner.

“I need a swimsuit,” I mumble.

“Sure,” he says cheerfully. “Back wall.”

The entire back wall is stocked with bathing suits of many shapes and colors and styles, and, most importantly, sizes. I breathe in a sigh of relief when I discover a board shirt—like a wet suit top with short sleeves—which would cover my cavewoman shoulders and also extend down to cover my belly. It’s white with hibiscus flowers on it, it’s a size large, and I immediately love it.

On the next rack there’s a selection of separate tops and bottoms, also available in large.

I pick a bright green top like a sports bra (okay, a two-piece, but no one is ever going to see, on account of the board shirt) and a matching boy-shorts bottom. I bring all three items straight to the checkout counter and lay them out carefully in front of the guy who helped me earlier.

“Would you like to try these on first?” he asks. “We have a dressing room.”

I shake my head. “I’m good.”

He rings me up. The total is ninety-two fifty. I slide the hundred-dollar bill across the counter.

In a minute I’m standing outside the store again, waiting for the tram. This time I am faced with more than the fear that my sisters are going to spontaneously appear before me and spoil my solitary fun. To get back on track with my paddleboarding plan, I’ll need to change and apply sunscreen and do something with my unruly hair. I also forgot my sunglasses.

I have to go to our room. Which is at the opposite end of the resort. Then I have to hurry and dress and prepare myself and make my way to the paddleboard rental place. Which is where I am now.

It’s going to eat into so much more of my precious time, but I don’t have a better option. I consider buying new sunscreen and sunglasses and getting dressed at the store after all, but then I remember I only have seven dollars and fifty cents.

So I do the only thing I can do: I get on the tram and go back to the room.

I don’t waste any time when I get there. I want to hurry, in case Afton and Abby come back soon. I feel mildly guilty about trying to avoid them, but I want my time alone to be more than just a shopping excursion. I want to freaking paddleboard. I grab my hairbrush and the tube of sunblock that’s sitting out on the dresser and turn to go into the walk-in closet, where I can get dressed and stand in front of the mirror to apply the sunscreen.

But then I hear the noise.