“You got it.”

She took a deep breath as she laid her hand on the table.

“Well, at least you’re not picky. Gin.”

*  *  *

After losing decisively in gin rummy, Theresa went inside to start one of the books she’d brought with her. She sat in the window seat along the back side of the house while Deanna went back to her own book. Brian found yet another golf tournament and spent the afternoon watching it avidly, making comments to no one in particular whenever something caught his interest.

At six that evening—and, more important, after the golf tournament had ended—Brian and Deanna went for a walk along the beach. Theresa stayed behind and watched from the window as they strolled hand in hand along the water’s edge. They had an ideal relationship, she thought as she watched them. They had completely different interests, yet that seemed to keep them together instead of driving them apart.

After the sun went down, the three of them drove to Hyannis and had dinner at Sam’s Crabhouse, a thriving restaurant that deserved its reputation. It was crowded and they had to wait an hour for seats, but the steamed crabs and drawn butter were worth it. The butter had been flavored with garlic, and among the three of them they went through six beers in two hours. Toward the end of dinner, Brian asked about the letter that had washed up.

“I read it when I got back from golfing. Deanna had pinned it to the refrigerator.”

deanna shrugged and laughed. She turned to Theresa with an “I told you someone would do that” look in her eyes but said nothing.

“It washed up on the beach. I found it when I was jogging.”

Brian finished his beer and went on. “It was quite a letter. It seemed so sad.”

“I know. That’s how I felt when I read it.”