Will set them down on the lawn and stepped away from the rhododendron. “Sunscreen,” he said. “The color keeps them from getting too warm.” He grinned at their expressions. “Seriously, it’s sunscreen, just like you wear in the summer to keep from getting burned. The blue eggs stay cooler. Come on. Let’s give the mom a chance to come back.” He backed farther away.

“Will she come again?” asked Addie. She slipped her hand into Will’s.

“Sure,” he said. “I’ve been watching her for a few days. She always comes back.”

“What if she doesn’t?” asked Flick.

“He just said she’s gonna,” Addie told him, her voice edged with annoyance. She looked around behind Will and stuck out her tongue at her brother.

“But what if she doesn’t?” Flick persisted.

“In that case, the eggs won’t hatch,” said Will.

“Never? Not ever?”

“Nope. That’s the way it works.”

“It’s sad,” Addie said. “I want the mama bird to come back.”

“Let’s give her a little time,” Will said easily.

“Our mama died,” Addie whispered.

Caroline’s heart melted. Will sank back down so they were face-to-face and gave both children a gentle look. “My mama died, too, when I was a boy. I think of her every day.”

“She’ll never come back,” said Flick.

“That’s right. It’s really sad,” Will admitted.

“Do you cry every day?” Addie asked him.

“No. Sometimes I still do, though.” His honesty and matter-of-fact tone seemed to put them at ease. “I hope you’ll tell me more about your mama sometime.”

“Caroline’s gonna get me some binoculars for bird-watching,” Flick said.

“Lucky you. Come on down to the dock and I’ll show you something else.”

Addie beckoned to Caroline. “Are you coming?”

Caroline looked at Sierra. “Are we coming?”

Sierra was checking her phone again. “Oh, sure. There are some lawn chairs where we can sit and chat.”

Will found a couple of life jackets for the kids and buckled them on.

“Why do we have to wear these?” asked Flick. “Are we going in a boat?”

“Not today, but when you’re on the dock, you should have a vest in case you fall in.”

He was so careful with the children. Caroline observed, watching them follow him to the weather-beaten dock, its planks bearded with moss. And they were quickly drawn to him; he was so naturally at ease. A small dinghy and an oystering scow were moored at the end. Will grabbed a rope and hauled in a float bag.

“What’s that?” asked Addie.

“Yearling oysters,” he said, taking one from the flat mesh bag. The kids leaned in, checking out the crusty outer shell. He took a stubby-bladed oyster knife from his belt and opened the shell with an expert twist, displaying the glistening inside. “Ever tried eating one?”

“That’s the oyster?” Addie peered at it.

“It looks yuck,” said Flick.

With exaggerated relish, Will slurped it down and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

Predictably, they recoiled in horror.

“Kids don’t usually like them until they get older,” said Will.

He opened another and offered it to Sierra, who shook her head. “Not a fan. Never have been. You know that.”

“That must mean you’re still a kid,” Caroline said.

“I tried my first oyster with you,” Will told Caroline. “Remember?”

“Yep, and you loved it.”

“She told me a saying—that eating an oyster is like kissing the sea on the lips.”

“Double ew,” said Flick.

Will held the shell out to Caroline. Touching it to her lower lip, she let the cool, briny morsel slip into her mouth. It was creamy and soft, almost buttery, salted by the ocean. Willapa oysters had a flavor all their own, tinged with a hint of sweetness compared to East Coast varieties. She laughed at the kids’ expressions. “It’s what’s known as an acquired taste.”

“This whole place was built a hundred years ago, all because people love eating oysters.” Will gestured out at the bay. They walked farther out on the dock, and he showed them how to dip a small net down into the clear depths. Sunlight flashed on the water, and for a moment, time was swept away.

“All those hours we spent on the docks around here,” Sierra said, seeming to read her thoughts.

Caroline could still feel the golden heat of the summer sun on her back as she lay belly down, mesmerized by the urchins and anemones and mussels clinging to the dock pilings. She could see them with knife-edged clarity through the shimmering water. She used to imagine patterns and designs swirling to watery life, leaving trails of sparkles that somehow wove their way into her imagination.

“I remember those days,” she said.

“I was obsessed with hiding from the sun,” Sierra said.

“I remember that, too.” She eyed Sierra’s wide-brimmed hat.

“You made me that great sun-safe gown, remember? I thought I was a queen, parading around in your creation.”

“Should I be putting sunscreen on the kids?” Caroline asked. “It’s early in the season, but—”

“Sunscreen is always a good idea, even for people with dark skin. Trust me. I’ve made a study of these things.”

“Caroline, look!” Addie held up a whorled seashell. “It’s just like your design!”

She took the nautilus shell in her hand. It was unoccupied, but still intact. “Other way around. I used this motif in my designs. It’s my signature. You’re very observant.” She handed it back to Addie and looked away to hide a wave of frustration.

“What is it?” asked Sierra. “I bet your designs are beautiful.”

“They are. They were, anyway, and I suppose that was the problem.” Caroline didn’t feel like talking about the demise of her career. “Long, boring story. It didn’t work out.”

A deep laugh burst from Will as he held out a Dungeness crab for the kids to inspect. Flick and Addie edged forward, then shrank away as the creature brandished its claws. Will slipped it back into the water and they leaned over to watch it swim to safety. Then Flick dipped the net and brought up something shiny from the depths.

Caroline exhaled in a long sigh as she and Sierra strolled back to the bank at the edge of the dock. “It’s so beautiful here. We were lucky to grow up in such a magical place.”

“We couldn’t wait to leave,” Sierra reminded her, motioning her over to a pair of gray wooden Adirondack chairs. “And now look at us. Back where we started from.”

“For now,” Caroline said.

“Forever,” Sierra said. “Christ.”

Caroline glanced over at her. Sierra was as gorgeous as ever, perfectly put together. Brilliant manicure, trendy nude lipstick, expertly blended makeup. Yet there was something different about her. Something indefinable. “You sound frustrated.”

“Will is so happy here. We’re trying to make it work.”

It. Did she mean the marriage? Her career? Her life?