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know. Part of me feels empowered—because I took action and didn’t cave to the pressure everyone, except you, put on me not to come here. That part is determined to make a change, to rediscover who I am and what I really want. Yet another part of me feels . . . lost. For the first time in years, my every waking minute isn’t scheduled. My time is my own with no family drama or job stress, and as great as that is in theory, the reality is that I feel as if I’m dangling over a cliff without a safety net.”
    â€œI think it’s the smartest thing you’ve ever done. Jamie, I’ve known you for twelve years, and in all that time you’ve always lived for other people. Your dad wanted you to work at Newman’s, so you did. Since he died, you’ve given your life to that place to keep his dream alive. Your mom leans on you like a broken-down barn door, and you let her. You’ve picked up the slack for Laurel more times than I can count, especially with Heather. How your sister ended up with such a great kid is a mystery. Actually, it’s not—it’s undoubtedly because Heather spends so much time with you. You’re always taking care of her—”
    â€œI don’t ‘take care’ of Heather—she’s fourteen. I enjoy being with her.”
    â€œAnd she’s very lucky that you do. You took a really brave, important step by leaving New York. Stop second-guessing yourself. The city, Newman’s, your mom, Laurel, Heather—none of them are going anywhere. They’ll still all be here at the end of the summer when you come home.”
    â€œThis is why you’re such a great nurse,” Jamie said with a watery laugh. “You’re very good at fixing broken spirits.”
    â€œYou’re not broken.”
    Jamie nodded. “You’re right. I’m not. Just a little bruised. Thanks for the pep talk, Coach.”
    â€œAnytime. Now enjoy the beach. And that seven-hundredmile buffer. And let me know what’s going on. Love you.”
    â€œLove you, too. Bye.”
    Jamie slipped the phone back in her pocket, closed her eyes, and drew in a lungful of sea-scented air. “Everything’s going to be okay.” Her whispered words floated away on the salty breeze. Surely if she said them enough, they’d become true.
    Recalling the main reason for her walk to the beach, she turned around. When she was once again in the soft, dry sand, she filled up the two plastic pails she’d brought, slipped on her sandals, then made her way back to Paradise Lost. She’d just made that doozy of a first step when a fat raindrop plopped on her arm. “The frog strangler cometh,” she said and gave herself a mental high five for her perfect timing.
    She entered the kitchen and set the pails of sand on the counter. The dead clam stink lingered, but at least it was no longer in the make-your-eyes-water stage. She rooted around in the lower cabinets and found a disposable foil roasting pan. It sported a few dents and the bottom was blackened from use, but it would do.
    After filling the roasting pan with sand, she set it out on the screened porch, then went in search of Cupcake. Her pet was still cleaning herself on the Mets bedspread, working on her fluffy tail. Jamie scooped her up and nuzzled her cheek into Cupcake’s soft fur. “You feeling better, baby?”
    Cupcake graced her with a halfhearted purr, cat-speak for she might someday forgive Jamie for the plethora of indignities she’d suffered this day, but only if she was lavished with pampering and treats.
    Jamie brought Cupcake to the screened porch and set her beside the roasting pan. “Here’s your potty.”
    Cupcake blinked at the makeshift litter box, then looked up at Jamie with an expression that so clearly screamed, WTF? Jamie had to laugh. “Hey, I’ve been told that things are very casual here at the beach, and believe me, my