Hanalei Bay fanned out from her on either side, a mile of white-sand beach shaped in a giant horseshoe. To the north stood the mountains, turned pink now by the sinking sun.
Small, white-tipped waves rolled forward, carrying laughing children toward the sand. Farther back, some teenage boys lay on oversize surfboards. Their instructor, a good-looking guy in a straw hat, gave them each a shove when a wave seemed promising.
They spent the rest of the day on the warm sands of Hanalei Bay and watched the sunset and talked. When the beach fell silent and lay in darkness, with stars glittering on the black water, they finally went back to their house. Together, they made dinner and ate it on a picnic table on the back lanai, with lanterns and mosquito-repellant candles lighting their way. By the time dinner was finished and the dishes were done, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other anymore.
Bobby swept Claire into his arms and carried her upstairs. She laughed and clung to him, letting go only when he dropped her onto the bed. She immediately came up to her knees and looked at him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, reaching out to slip a finger beneath her bathing-suit bra strap. She felt the heat of that touch against her cold, goosefleshed skin and found it hard to breathe.
He bent down and stripped out of his suit, then straightened again. The sight of his naked body, hard and ready, made her shiver and reach out.
He moved to the bed. She could feel the eager trembling in his hands as he removed her swimsuit and touched her breasts. At last he kissed her—her mouth, her eyelids, her chin, her nipples.
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down on top of her. She felt his hand slip between her legs, finding her wetness. With a groan, she opened herself to him. When he finally climbed on top of her, she dug her fingers into his hard backside and arched up to meet him. They came at the same time, each crying out the other’s name.
Afterward, Claire curled up against her husband’s damp, hot body and fell asleep to the quiet evenness of his breathing and the steady drone of the ceiling fan.
Meg took Alison on a whirlwind tour of downtown Seattle. They went to the aquarium and watched the feeding of the otters and seals. Meg even dared to roll up her designer sleeves and plunge her bare hands into the exploration tank, where, alongside a busload of out-of-town children, she and Alison touched sea anemones and mussels and starfish.
After that, they got hot dogs at a frankfurter stand and walked down the wharf. At Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe they saw shrunken heads and Egyptian mummies and cheap souvenirs. (Meg didn’t point out the eight-foot-long petrified whale penis that hung suspended from the ceiling; she could just imagine what Ali would tell her friends.) They had dinner at the Red Robin Hamburger Emporium and finished off the day with a Disney movie at the Pacific Place Theater.
By the time they made it back to the condo, Meg was exhausted.
Unfortunately, Alison had energy to spare. She ran from room to room, picking up stuff, looking at it, yelling Wow! over things like a Sonicare toothbrush.
Meg was on the couch, sprawled out with her feet on the coffee table, when Alison skidded into the room, carrying the Lalique bowl from the front entry.
“Did you see this, Aunt Meg? These girls have no clothes on.” She giggled.
“They’re angels.”
“They’re naked. Billy says his dad has magazines with naked girls in ’em. Gross.”
Meg got up and very gently took the bowl from Alison. “Gross is in the eye of the beholder.” She returned it to its spot on the entry table. When she walked back into the living room, Alison was frowning.
“What’s a bee holder? Is that like a hive?”
Meg was too tired to come up with a smart answer. “Kind of.” She collapsed onto the couch again. How had she done this when she was a teenager?
“Didja know that baby eagles eat their daddy’s barf?”
“No kidding. Even my cooking is better than that.”
Alison giggled. “My mommy’s a good cook.” The minute she said it, her lower lip wobbled. Tears glistened in her green eyes, and just then, standing there on the verge of crying, Alison looked so much like Claire that Meghann couldn’t breathe. She was thrown back in time to all the nights she’d comforted her little sister, held her tightly, and promised that Soon, soon things will get better … and Mama will come home.
“Come here, Ali,” she said, her throat tight.
Alison hesitated for a moment, just that, but the pause reminded Meghann of how little she and her niece knew each other.
Alison sat down on the sofa, about a foot away.
“Do you want to call your mommy? She’s going to call at six o’clock, but—”
“Yeah!” Alison yelled, bouncing up and down on the cushion.
Meghann went in search of the phone. She found it on the nightstand by her bed. After a quick consultation in her day planner, she dialed the Kauai house’s direct number, then handed the phone to her niece.