them from sinking into the sand. She set them next to an empty chair. The beach was filling with people dancing, the tables emptying out.

"Remember when we were fifteen and Mom was turning forty? She didn't have a party and we gave her a picnic at the public beach just outside of Kilmarnock? It had been your idea."

Libby giggled at the memory. "I do! We packed her sandwiches and a birthday cake that Ryan bought at the supermarket." She had completely forgotten that memory until then.

"Yep," he grinned, and she thought she saw affection seeping out from behind his eyes. Libby didn't want to notice it, but she had. "I thought we could give her a slightly upgraded version of a beach birthday party this time."

"Pete!" Ryan calledit.

"Hope you like lemon in your sweet tea," she said, handing Libby a glass. "It's not homemade. I got it premade at the market. It was some new brand. Thought I'd try it." Celia took a sip of her own and set the glass on the coffee table.

"Thanks," Libby smiled. In adulthood, her mother seemed to want to please her, to make her happy. It occurred to Libby that Celia's own insecurities and need to please people had probably been instrumental in her choices in raising Libby. Her mother seemed as anxious as Libby did most of the time, and Libby understood that now. "I got an interview in New York," she said, knowing how delighted her mother would be with the news.

Celia clapped her hands together loudly.