She found herself on a small landing. Unlike the second floor, the walls up here were unpainted board. They smelled faintly piney. There were three doors. She opened the first and found the tiny bathroom, with its claw-foot tub and funny high-backed commode. She could only shake her head when she saw that the tub had no shower. Dorie wasn’t the type to complain, that was her sister Willa’s specialty, but even sweet Dorie wouldn’t be happy about not having a shower.

Ellis tugged at the door on the facing wall. It was swollen from the heat and humidity, but she finally managed to yank it open, only to discover an unfinished attic space. The high-ceilinged room was stifling and full of dusty cardboard boxes, trunks, and dust-covered bits of furniture. Maybe, Ellis thought idly, between sneezes, she could find some spare end tables and chairs to make their bedrooms more habitable. Later.

She opened the third door to find the bedroom. Tucked up under the eaves of the house, it had a low, sloping ceiling, but a dormer window opposite the bed ran the length of the room, and Ellis could see an amazing view of the ocean below. The waves were rolling in, and children darted in and out of the water. She yanked the window open and a breeze wafted in, carrying the smell of saltwater with it. There was another window, high in the wall above the bed, and if she stood on her tiptoes, she could see out to the street.

The room was just as sparsely furnished as the others, the bed was a double, with a sad, thin mattress. There was no overhead fan as in the downstairs bedrooms, but there was a pair of nightstands, each with a twee little white milk-glass lamp. Instead of a closet, a white, mirrored chifforobe stood in a corner of the room. And the air-conditioning unit was stuck into a hole that had been cut in the wall right beside the bed, which meant that whoever slept on that side would have it blasting in her ear all night long. The sad thing was, this was the best bedroom in the house. Ellis was glad Dorie and Stephen would have it. Not particularly glad about the Stephen part. After all, they’d agreed, way back in April, at Julia’s mama’s funeral, that this would be strictly a chick trip.

But Dorie and Stephen had been married only a year. Since they both taught school, August was the last month they’d have for vacation. Nobody, not even Julia, had the heart to say no to Dorie. Anyway, Stephen really was very nice. He liked to cook, and he was quiet, and he’d probably spend most of his time at the beach reading, Dorie had promised. So they’d relented and agreed, just this once, that Stephen could be one of the girls.

At least, Ellis thought, Stephen wouldn’t be in their hair downstairs. They wouldn’t have to worry about running into him in their underwear, or keep having to put the toilet seat down on the second floor.

But she was definitely still going to give Mr. Culpepper an earful! It was probably too late to get out of the house now, since he had half the month’s rent, but she was already calculating how much of a discount she was going to ask for, considering the crappy beds, the window air-conditioning units, and—oh yes, the ants.

There it was again, the nagging, insistent itch she could not scratch. Money. Would she have enough? What would happen when this month was over? And how long would it be before her money ran out?

6

Ellis heard the crunch of gravel outside. Then a series of short, loud blasts from a car horn. She stood on tiptoes and looked out the window over the bed. A dark red minivan had pulled into the driveway, and a familiar blonde was leaning halfway out the passenger window, hollering at the top of her lungs.

“Whoo-hoo! We’re here!”

Ellis flew down the two flights of stairs, out the front door and off the porch, launching herself in the direction of the van.

“Oh my God!” Ellis cried, falling into Julia’s outstretched arms. “You’re here. August is here. I can’t believe we’re all finally here.”

She held Julia at arm’s length and looked at her critically. “And you’re so much blonder. I love it, but when did you decide to go platinum?”

Before Julia could answer, Dorie had gotten out of the minivan, and then the three of them were hugging and shrieking and babbling and jumping up and down so hard that it sounded like a sorority chapter meeting.

“Excuse me,” Dorie said, finally pulling away. “I can’t wait to see the house and catch up. But y’all have got to excuse me. I had an iced tea an hour ago, and my eyeballs are positively floating.”

“Go on,” Ellis said, laughing. “You never could hold your water. Julia and I will start unloading.”

She walked to the back of the minivan and groped around for the catch on the tailgate. “Where are the others?” she asked Julia. “Are Willa and Stephen driving up separately? Dorie didn’t mention that when I talked to her the day before yesterday.”

Julia raised one elegant eyebrow. “There’s quite a lot Dorie hasn’t mentioned. To either of us. They aren’t coming, sweetie.”

“At all?” Ellis said, bewildered. “What happened?”

“The bitch bailed on us! Dorie said Willa just rang her up last night, right before she was to pick her up, and announced that she couldn’t go.”

“Just like that?”

Julia shrugged, and the strap of her orange tank top slid off one sun-browned shoulder. “Willa told Dorie something had come up with one of the kids. Isn’t that just like her? She horns in on our trip, and because we don’t want to hurt Dorie’s feelings, we agree that she can come, plan around her, go to the expense of renting the bigger house with the extra bedroom, then she just up and cancels. You want to know what I think?”

“What?”

“I don’t think she ever really intended to come,” Julia said. “She was just up to her same old games again, pushing Dorie’s buttons, testing to see if Dorie would cave in and invite her. Willa’s never had any real friends of her own. Why would she? The woman’s a raving bitch.”

“But what about Stephen?” Ellis pressed. “Is he coming later? I know Dorie said he’s been working really hard all summer, trying to get his master’s thesis finished before school starts up again.”

Julia grabbed a battered leather suitcase from the back of the van and set it on the driveway. “Stephen’s quite another puzzle. When she picked me up at the airport this morning, all Dorie would tell me was basically the same thing: ‘Stephen’s working so hard on his thesis, he has to meet with his advisor, he needs absolute quiet, he’s heartbroken that he can’t come after all.’ Blah, blah, blah.”

“You don’t believe her? Why would she make up something like that? Dorie wouldn’t lie. Not to us.”

They heard the slap of the screen door and Julia glanced back at the house. “Shh. She’s coming. I’m not saying she’s lying exactly. But she’s not telling us the whole story. This is not our Dorie. Not at all.”

“Did Julia tell you the bad news?” Dorie asked, approaching the van. “I know you guys must hate me. Stephen feels awful about not coming. He was so looking forward to the beach. But he’s just frantic with worry about his thesis. And Willa…” Her voice trailed off. “Annabeth, her youngest, was supposed to be at sailing camp this week. But she gets these terrible headaches. And she’s only six. They got her glasses, but…”

“Willa is Willa,” Julia said dryly. “You don’t have to apologize for her, Dorie. She’s been like this her whole life.”

Dorie’s cheeks flushed bright red. “I know she can be a pill sometimes, you guys.”

Ellis gave her a quick hug. “We all have our moments. We understand. Anyway, I’m just really bummed for you, having to spend the month without Stephen. We’re all going to miss him.”

Julia, standing directly behind Dorie, crossed her eyes and grimaced. The last statement was an outright lie, and they both knew it. They’d had a spirited e-mail exchange as soon as Dorie had brought up the possibility of having Stephen join them at the beach.