I exchange glances with Milly, and can tell she’s heard about Nickel Beach from her mother too. But neither of us say anything. It’s too complicated a subject for a short trip.
We pause at a red light, but the driver’s monologue doesn’t stop. He gestures toward a strip of flat, gray sand to our right. “And over here, we have Cutty Beach—”
“Wait,” I interrupt, the name catching my attention. “Did you say Cutter Beach?”
“No, Cutty. With a y.”
“Can we…can I look at it?” I ask. “It was, um, my father’s favorite.”
“Really?” Milly asks, just as our driver good-naturedly says, “Sure.” He pulls over to the side of the road. “Not our prettiest beach, in my opinion, but go ahead and take a gander.”
I get out of the car, Milly at my heels. There’s a strip of grass between the road and the beach, which is small with a crescent shape in the middle. The sand is coarse and rocky, the vegetation surrounding us sparse and dry-looking. Beachgoers with bright towels are scattered here and there, but it’s not as crowded as I would have expected for the middle of the day.
Milly adjusts her sunglasses. “This was Uncle Adam’s favorite beach?”
I turn to her. “Did you ever read his book? A Brief and Broken Silence?”
“Ah, no,” she says. “I tried, but it was kind of…”
“Boring,” I say. “I know. But the main character—who’s a stand-in for my dad, I always thought—constantly talks about a beach in his hometown. Cutter Beach. And one of the lines he repeats, over and over, is: That’s where it all started to go wrong.”
“Huh.” Milly is quiet for a few seconds, then points out, “But this is Cutty Beach.”
“I know,” I say. “My dad isn’t the most original thinker, though. His main character has a wife named Magda, and my mom is Megan. And his daughter’s name is Augie.”
Milly wrinkles her nose. “Augie?”
“Short for Augusta,” I explain.
“Okay, so—what? You think something happened to your dad at this beach?”
“Not necessarily,” I say slowly, because that’s exactly how my dad would put it. Things happen to him, like they’re out of his control. But that’s not how life really works; or at least, it’s not how it’s ever worked for him. “I just think it’s interesting.”
There’s a loud ahem noise behind us, and when we turn, Jonah is glaring out the window. “You done sightseeing?” he asks. “Or should we skip lunch so you can keep staring at the world’s ugliest beach?”
“Three more days,” Milly mutters as we start back toward the car. “That’s it. That’s how long until I kill him.”
* * *
—
L’Etoile is a classic old-person’s restaurant. The wallpaper is floral, the chairs are low and cushiony, and everything on the heavy, gilt-edged menu is baked and costs at least thirty dollars.
“If you want something that’s not on the menu, by all means let me know,” Donald Camden tells us as a server fills our water glasses. “The chef is a personal friend.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, studying him surreptitiously over the top of my menu. He’s about Gran’s age and equally well preserved, with thick silver hair and a deep tan. There’s a ruddiness to his cheeks, either from the sun or his already being on his second drink. Ever since we arrived at the restaurant he’s been affable and seemingly at ease, asking questions about our jobs and how we like the Towhee program. Meanwhile I’m getting more and more nervous, because I still have no idea why we’re here or what he wants from us.
“Can I get my hamburger with a bun?” Jonah asks, frowning as he studies his menu. He’s the least dressed-up person in the room, in a threadbare T-shirt, jeans, and ratty Van sneakers. At least Milly and I put some effort into our clothes after we looked up the restaurant online. But if Donald is annoyed by Jonah, he doesn’t show it.
“Of course,” he chuckles. “The regulars here are very carb-conscious, but that’s not something you need to worry about.” The server returns to take our orders, and when he’s finished, Donald leans back in his chair and sips amber liquid from a crystal tumbler. “Have you had a chance to enjoy our beaches yet?”
His glance around the table lands on Jonah, who slouches lower in his seat. “I’m not really a beach person,” he mutters.
As far as I can tell, Jonah isn’t an anything person. He hasn’t taken part in any of the Towhee activities so far.