“Twenty-two,” she read aloud.
“Twenty-two!” the man behind the ducks repeated with too much enthusiasm. She followed his finger to the board of prizes. Twenty-two was a child’s pretend fashion ring with a stone the same blue as the ocean. The attendant pulled one from a box containing a couple hundred more rings inside and handed it to Libby. She giggled, slipping it on her finger.
“Thank you,” she said to Pete, still giggling, as they turned back down the aisle leading to the beach.
“Well, you leave tomorrow. I wanted you to have something for your memory box and I didn’t think any of those…” he pointed to the giant bears, “would fit.”
“Thank you,” she said again, peering down at the toy ring.
The water sparkled like golden butterflies, the gentle waves fizzing at the shore. An enormous orange blaze popped and crackled on the sand in front of the water, the crowd lounging in chairs and on beach towels. The band music had picked up and was louder on that part of the beach. Pete reached into his bag and pulled out two foldable camping chairs. He shook them until they had their chair-like shape and set them in the sand.
“Hey!” Catherine came running ahead of Scott. “How are you?”
“Great,” Libby stood up and gave her a quick hug. “How about you?”
Scott caught up with them and waved at Libby. “We’re really well! I have a little news!”
“You do?” she said. Pete sat down beside her in his chair, the roar of the fire sending an intense heat through the bay breeze.
“Looks like you and I shouldn’t have had that wine the other night.” Her face was pinched into a colossal smile, eyebrows raised, eyes darting from side to side. Libby could only guess what her news was with a face like that. “We’re expecting!” she squealed.
“Oh, Catherine, congratulations!” Libby hugged her again. This time it was a long hug, the type of hug that says, this is how happy I am for you. Libby was thrilled for her. Truly. But it sent a quiver of sadness through her at the same time. She wouldn’t be there to see Catherine’s baby, to go crabbing, to enjoy the summer air outside. There would be a lot she would miss once she was back in New York.
“We found you!” a familiar voice soared over the crowd. Ryan and Emily came trudging through the sand with their chairs hanging on their shoulders from straps. Charlotte bounded ahead of them, stopping abruptly to examine a shell that had revealed itself in the sand.
“I didn’t know you were coming!” Libby walked over and offered another hug.
“I haven’t missed a single one!” Ryan said, setting up their chairs near Pete’s.
Before they could even get settled, Helen and Pop were coming toward them. “Pop!” Libby nearly squealed with excitement. It was so nice to see him out. His eyes were bright and shiny, and she could tell he was himself. “Hi, Helen!” she said, so happy to see her.
Pop handed his chair to Pete, who set it up for him, and they all sat down together like a big family. “I didn’t want to miss this with everyone here. I don’t know how many more of these I’ll have, so best I make sure to attend.”
Libby hated it when elderly people spoke frankly about their ending years. She didn’t want to think about how fleeting life was or life without Pop. The thought took her by surprise, and she didn’t want to ever leave him, knowing his condition. What if it worsened when she was so far away? What would she do?
“You look so serious,” Pete said quietly against her shoulder. For a moment, he looked out at the fire, the thumping of the music in her ears as she watched him. Then, without warning, he looked right at her and stood up. He pulled her off her chair by her hands and spun her around to the music. She kicked off her shoes as Pete whirled her out and in, their arms moving together like the waves in the sea. She couldn’t help but smile when he did that. He had always danced with her, ever since they were young. They’d danced together so many times that moving with him was as easy and graceful as her long-practiced strokes in the water.
Thomas and a few other kids went running past as Pete pulled her into an embrace, their feet kicking up sand with each movement. Libby got a glimpse of Helen, and her eyes seemed to be saying she missed this—the laughter, the dancing, the feeling in that moment that nothing could go wrong.
“I want to dance, Uncle Pete,” a tinkling voice sailed over the music from behind them, and Pete let go of Libby so they could turn around to face Charlotte.
“You do?” he kneeled down and took her hands, her fingers lost in his giant grip. Then, a squeal of laughter escaped her lips as he stood up and spun her around, her entire body lifting off the sand. Her striped sundress puffed out as the wind caught it, the gold of her hair catching the light from the bonfire, her ringlets trailing behind her. He set her back down onto her bare feet. Then Pete got on his knees again and started dancing with her, dipping her and spinning her, her giggles like bubbles in champagne.