“Yeah,” Ty said. “I guess.”

“You and Kendra still together?” Frank asked, shooting him a curious look before squatting down and directing the pesticide to the kick plate under the counters. Frank knew Kendra from high school, of course. Everybody on the Outer Banks knew the Wilcox family. Kendra’s father Boomer had been chairman of the Dare County Commission, and her grandfather had been a superior court judge. Kendra was the fourth generation of lawyer Wilcoxes.

“Nah,” Ty said. “We split up a while ago.”

“Sorry, man,” Frank said. He opened the kitchen door. “You want me to hit the porch out here?”

“Everything,” Ty said, following him out. “The place is crawling with fleas. And it all happened in, like, a week.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, walking up and down the length of the porch, “the little bastards run amok this time of year. You can’t let them get ahead of you. I’m not trying to sell you nothin’, but seriously, you might wanna think about signing a contract. Save you some money over the long run.”

“I’ll think about it,” Ty said, but his voice said he wouldn’t.

Frank stood and faced the ocean. A faint breeze ruffled the sea oats, and the plum-colored skies promised rain. Just beyond where the waves broke, he spotted a dolphin.

“I can see why you’d want to keep this house,” Frank said, leaning on the porch rail. “My wife and kids are gonna go nuts about this place. Fall, huh?”

“I’m wide open in October,” Ty said. “Unless the bank takes it back before then. You just name the weekend.”

“Fishing oughtta start picking up about midmonth,” Frank said. “My youngest one? That little girl flat loves to fish. She’s her daddy’s girl all the way.”

“My granddaddy showed me how to bait a hook right out there,” Ty said, pointing to the ocean. “I was probably about five. He used to catch the hell out of the red drum in the fall.”

“October,” Frank repeated. He looked over at Ty, who was still gazing at the place where he’d caught his first fish. Raindrops, big fat ones, began plopping on the sun-bleached walkway over the dunes. People on the beach started gathering up chairs and towels.

“Listen, Ty,” Frank said suddenly. “You think you want that stove, we could run over to my place and throw it in the back of the truck. Might as well haul the old one outta here and drop it at the dump.”

Ty held out his hand and the men shook. “You got a deal.”

9

To: Mr.Culpepper@Ebbtide.com

From: EllisSullivan@hotmail.com

Subject: Thanks!

Dear Mr. Culpepper. I take back all the nasty stuff I said about you. The fleas and ants are gone. The new stove is a huge improvement, and I’m sure you’ll notice a savings on your water bill since the leaky faucet has been fixed. Also, the new (old) dishes are very sweet. My friends and I just love china with pink roses. Dorie, who is one of our group, says she thinks her grandmother had that exact same china pattern. So again, thanks! Ellis. P.S. What can you tell us about the guy who lives in the garage apartment here? He seems to keep very odd hours—we’ve noticed the light stays on over there all night long. He’s not a serial killer, right? (Just kidding. Mostly.)

To: EllisSullivan@hotmail.com

From: Mr.Culpepper@Ebbtide.com

Subject: Garage guy

Dear Ellis: Ty Bazemore is harmless. He tells me he makes a living day trading, but maybe that’s just a cover story for an international white-slaver. (Just kidding. Mostly.)

“Hey, you guys,” Ellis said, putting her iPhone back into the protective plastic pocket of her beach bag. “Mr. Culpepper says that guy above the garage is a day trader. That’s why he stays up all night.”

“Interesting,” Julia said. “I wonder if he literally stays up all night?”

“Julia!” Ellis said, not really shocked.

“Mmm,” Dorie said drowsily. She was stretched out facedown on her canvas-covered chaise. Her fingers trailed in the sand, and her body was slick with suntan lotion and perspiration. “What time is it? I think I can only take fifteen more minutes on my stomach.”

“It’s three o’clock,” Julia said, propping herself on one elbow to assess her friend’s tanning progress. “You’ve only been like that for fifteen minutes, and you already look like a boiled lobster. I swear, Dorie, you are the whitest white girl I have ever known.”

“Mmm,” Dorie said. Moments later, she was softly snoring.

“Such a party animal,” Julia said. “Come on, Ellis. I’m bored. Walk down the beach with me, okay?”

Ellis glanced down at their sleeping friend. “Should we just leave her like that? She is getting pretty burnt.”

Julia took a beach towel from her bag and gently draped it over Dorie’s motionless body. “She’ll be fine,” Julia said. She slung her beach bag over her shoulder. “Let’s walk down to that ice cream shack near the pier. I’m starved.”

Ellis pulled her cover-up over her bathing suit, tucked some money into the pocket, and, as a second thought, added her phone.

Julia, who never missed anything, rolled her eyes. “Another thing I don’t miss about living in the States! You people and your mania for your mobiles. Do you ever go anywhere without that thing? Can’t you just relax? At least while we’re together?”

Four days of living in close quarters with Julia had taught Ellis to shrug off her friend’s caustic comments. “What about you?” she countered. “Don’t you supermodels have to keep in touch with your agencies to find out about bookings or whatever you call it?”

“I am so not a supermodel,” Julia said. “Anyway, I told the agency I was taking the month off.” She picked up the pace, and with her long lean legs had soon left Ellis a couple yards behind.

“Wait up,” Ellis called, nearly sprinting to catch up with her friend. “I thought this used to be your busy time,” she said.

“Things change,” Julia said. “Anyway, I’m on vacay.”

Ellis followed Julia up towards the boardwalk crossover and was walking as fast as she could, but even though she wore flip-flops the flour-fine sand scorched her feet.

“I thought I was doing a pretty good job of relaxing. As for worrying—well, I can’t help it. I’m thirty-four years old. I’ve had some kind of a job since I was fourteen years old. I’ve been in banking since Daddy helped me get my first job at Savannah Bank when I was seventeen. Now, well, I just don’t know what’s going to happen next.”

“Nobody knows what’s going to happen next, ever,” Julia said, gesturing wildly with her hands. “That’s my whole point, Ellis. You’ve got no control over anything, so why not just sit back and take life as it comes?”

Now it was Ellis’s turn to roll her eyes. “That’s fine for you to say. I mean, I know you’re not an heiress or anything, but at least you’ve got a nice inheritance to live on. And work that you can do anytime, anywhere. You’ve been all over the world. And let’s face it, you’ve got Booker. Me? I’ve lived in three places in my life: Savannah, Charlotte, and Philly. And I’ve got me. And Mama. Daddy left her just enough to live on, if she’s really careful. And she’s not. It’ll be me taking care of her eventually, not my brother. So yes, I worry. I guess if I had your life, I wouldn’t have to worry. But I don’t. So I worry a lot. But I’m trying not to let it ruin this month for us.”

Julia walked on, three or four steps ahead of Ellis, who couldn’t catch up with her friend’s long-legged gait, no matter how hard she tried.

Ellis was already regretting her outburst. It was tacky to talk about Julia’s money that way. It wasn’t like Julia went around flaunting the fact that she was semirich or the fact that Ellis and Dorie were semipoor.

When they got to the paved road, Ellis trotted until she was right beside Julia. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

“Nope,” Julia said. “I’m not going to get mad at you for saying what you’re thinking. At least, I hope I won’t. It’s just that you don’t really have a clue what my life is like.”