“You’re worried about this,” he started.

Kim turned away. “It’s not the first time, which is the problem,” she confessed. “She admitted to stealing the bracelet last year, but this time, she said she was buying a bunch of stuff at the drugstore and couldn’t hold it all, so she tucked the lipstick in her pocket. She paid for everything else, and when you see the video, it seems to be an honest mistake, but…”

“But you’re not sure.”

When Kim didn’t answer, Steve shook his head. “She’s not on her way to being profiled on America’s Most Wanted. She made a mistake. And she’s always had a good heart.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s telling the truth now.”

“And it doesn’t mean she lied, either.”

“So you believe her?” Her expression was a mixture of hope and skepticism.

He sifted through his feelings about the incident, as he had a dozen times since Kim had first told him. “Yeah,” he said. “I believe her.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a good kid.”

“How do you know?” she demanded. For the first time, she sounded angry. “The last time you spent any time with her, she was finishing middle school.” She turned away from him then, crossing her arms as she gazed out the window. Her voice was bitter when she went on. “You could have come back, you know. You could have taught in New York again. You didn’t have to travel around the country, you didn’t have to move here… you could have stayed part of their lives.”

Her words stung him, and he knew she was right. But it hadn’t been that simple, for reasons they both understood, though neither would acknowledge them.

The charged silence passed when Steve eventually cleared his throat. “I was just trying to say that Ronnie knows right from wrong. As much as she asserts her independence, I still believe she’s the same person she always was. In the ways that really matter, she hasn’t changed.”

Before Kim could figure out how or if she should respond to his comment, Jonah burst through the front door, his cheeks flushed.

“Dad! I found a really cool workshop! C’mon! I want to show you!”

Kim raised an eyebrow.

“It’s out back,” Steve said. “Do you want to see it?”

“It’s awesome, Mom!”

Kim turned from Steve to Jonah and back again. “No, that’s okay,” she said. “That sounds like more of a father and son thing. And besides, I should really be going.”

“Already?” Jonah asked.

Steve knew how hard this was going to be for Kim, and he answered for her. “Your mom has a long drive back. And besides, I wanted to take you to the carnival tonight. Could we do that instead?”

Steve watched Jonah’s shoulders sink a fraction.

“I guess that’s okay,” he said.

After Jonah said good-bye to his mom-with Ronnie still nowhere in sight and, according to Kim, unlikely to return soon-Steve and Jonah strolled over to the workshop, a leaning, tin-roofed outbuilding that had come with the property.

For the last three months, Steve had spent most afternoons here, surrounded by assorted junk and small sheets of stained glass that Jonah was now exploring. In the center of the workshop was a large worktable with the beginnings of a stained-glass window, but Jonah seemed far more interested in the weird taxidermy pieces perched on the shelves, the previous owner’s specialty. It was hard not to be mesmerized by the half-squirrel/half-bass creature or the opossum’s head grafted onto the body of a chicken.

“What is this stuff?” Jonah asked.

“It’s supposed to be art.”

“I thought art was like paintings and stuff.”

“It is. But sometimes art is other things, too.”

Jonah wrinkled his nose, staring at the half-rabbit/half-snake. “It doesn’t look like art.”

When Steve smiled, Jonah motioned to the stained-glass window on the worktable. “Was this his, too?” he asked.

“Actually, that’s mine. I’m making it for the church down the street. It burned last year, and the original window was destroyed in the fire.”

“I didn’t know you could make windows.”

“Believe it or not, the artist who used to live here taught me how.”

“The guy who did the animals?”

“The same one.”

“And you knew him?”

Steve joined his son at the table. “When I was a kid, I’d sneak over here when I was supposed to be in Bible study. He made the stained-glass windows for most of the churches around here. See the picture on the wall?” Steve pointed to a small photograph of the Risen Christ tacked to one of the shelves, easy to miss in the chaos. “Hopefully, it’ll look just like that when it’s finished.”

“Awesome,” Jonah said, and Steve smiled. It was obviously Jonah’s new favorite word, and he wondered how many times he’d hear it this summer.

“Do you want to help?”

“Can I?”

“I was counting on it.” Steve gave him a gentle nudge. “I need a good assistant.”

“Is it hard?”

“I was your age when I started, so I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it.”

Jonah gingerly picked up a piece of the glass and examined it, holding it up to the light, his expression serious. “I’m pretty sure I can handle it, too.”

Steve smiled. “Are you still going to church?” he asked.

“Yeah. But it’s not the same one we went to. It’s the one where Brian likes to go. And Ronnie doesn’t always come with us. She locks herself in her room and refuses to come out, but as soon as we leave, she goes over to Starbucks to hang out with her friends. It makes Mom furious.”

“That happens when kids become teenagers. They test their parents.”

Jonah put the glass back on the table. “I won’t,” he said. “I’m always going to be good. But I don’t like the new church very much. It’s boring. So I might not go to that one.”

“Fair enough.” He paused. “I hear you’re not playing soccer this fall.”

“I’m not very good at it.”

“So what? It’s fun, right?”

“Not when other kids make fun of you.”

“They make fun of you?”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Ah,” Steve said.

Jonah shuffled his feet, something obviously on his mind. “Ronnie didn’t read any of the letters you sent her, Dad. And she won’t play the piano anymore, either.”

“I know,” Steve answered.

“Mom says it’s because she has PMS.”

Steve almost choked but composed himself quickly. “Do you even know what that means?”

Jonah pushed his glasses up. “I’m not a little kid anymore. It means pissed-at-men syndrome.”

Steve laughed, ruffling Jonah’s hair. “How about we go find your sister? I think I saw her heading toward the festival.”

“Can we ride the Ferris wheel?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Awesome.”

The fair was crowded. Or rather, Ronnie corrected herself, the Wrightsville Beach Seafood Festival was crowded. As she paid for a soda from one of the concession stands, she could see cars parked bumper to bumper along both roads leading to the pier and even noted a few enterprising teenagers renting out their driveways near the action.

So far, though, the action was boring. She supposed she’d been hoping that the Ferris wheel was a permanent fixture and that the pier offered shops and stores like the boardwalk in Atlantic City. In other words, she hoped it would be the kind of place she could see herself hanging out in the summer. No such luck. The festival was temporarily located in the parking lot at the head of the pier, and it mostly resembled a small county fair. The rickety rides were part of a traveling carnival, and the parking lot was lined with overpriced game booths and greasy food concessions. The whole place was kind of… gross.

Not that anyone else seemed to share her opinion. The place was packed. Old and young, families, groups of middle-schoolers ogling one another. No matter which way she went, she always seemed to be fighting against the tide of bodies. Sweaty bodies. Big, sweaty bodies, two of whom were squashing her between them as the crowd came to an inexplicable stop. No doubt they’d had both the fried hot dog and fried Snickers bar she’d seen at the concession stand. She wrinkled her nose. So gross.