“Made it worse,” Camille said. “What do I do, then? Force her to tough it out? Send her to boarding school? No way.”

“They’re totally cute, Papi,” Julie said, her eyes shining as she came into the house. “I love baby ducklings.” She went over to the sink to wash her hands. “I’m sorry the kids in your town were mean to you.”

He poured wine from a decanter, and gave Julie a glass of bubbly water. “It was a long time ago. Perhaps . . . long enough. Santé,” he said.

Camille noticed a glint in his eye. Long enough for what? “Papa, what’s going on?”

“Dr. Ackland has cleared me to travel.”

“That’s cool, Papi,” said Julie. “Are you planning a trip?”

“You’re not going on a trip,” Camille broke in.

“I am, choupette,” he told her. “I have decided to spend the summer in Bellerive.”

No, thought Camille. Just no. She couldn’t let him go gallivanting overseas. His health was fragile. It was too far away. “Why would you want to visit a place full of bad memories?”

“The house is in a terrible state, and I must go look after my property.”

“You never did before,” Camille objected. “You said the Oliviers took care of the upkeep.”

“True, but it’s high time I took responsibility for the place. The cave-in of a slate-tiled roof is no small disaster. Seeing the things sent by Madame Olivier . . . Now I’m compelled to visit Bellerive, perhaps confront those unhappy memories at long last.”

“It’s too far,” Camille said. “You’re not up to a trip like that. What if something happens?”

“I have responsibilities. And I must go now—this summer.”

He didn’t add “before I die,” but it was implicit. His cancer was in remission, yet both Camille and her father knew the possibility of a recurrence was extremely high. His care team had warned them of that.

She tried not to panic. “You should do exactly what you want, of course. But are you sure the doctor gave you the green light? Did you tell her you mean to fly overseas and visit a tiny village in France? Is she okay with that?”

His gaze shifted.

“Papa.”

“I bet you didn’t tell her,” Julie chimed in.

“It’s too soon,” Camille protested. “You can’t go jetting off all by yourself.”

“And that, my poppet, is the reason I want you and Julie to come to France with me for the summer.”

“Cool,” said Julie.

Camille’s reaction was swift and visceral. “Out of the question.”

“Why is it out of the question?” asked Julie.

“It’s too far, and we can’t stay away so long.” Camille felt a twist of fear deep in her gut. She had not gone anywhere in ages. She knew it was irrational, but the very idea of getting on a plane made the blood freeze in her veins.

“Mom, we have to do it,” Julie said.

“We’ve never missed a summer in Bethany Bay. It’s the best time of the year.”

Julie laughed. “You’re kidding, right? I’d do anything to get out of here.”

“Jules, the answer is no. Papa, I hope you can understand.”

“If you don’t come with me,” he said, “then I shall have to go alone.”

Great. If she didn’t go, she would be sending her aging father off on some crazy quest to revisit the past. Daughter of the year, she thought. That’s me. “Let’s find someone else to go with you. Lamont would jump at the chance.”

“No,” he said. “Not Lamont. He’s staying here to look after the house while I’m away.”

“Mom,” said Julie. “We have to go.”

“Indeed we do,” her grandfather agreed.

“When can we leave?” Julie asked, practically bouncing up and down in her chair.

“Papa,” Camille objected. “You can’t just declare we’re going to France without consulting me.”

“Consider this your consultation.”

“Thank you. Unfortunately, we can’t swing it, Papa. I’ve got work—”

“I already thought of that.” He held up a hand, palm out. “Your mother agrees that you can take the summer off from the shop. She and the staff will cover your duties for the entire season this year.”

“Wait, you talked to Mom?” Camille bristled.

“She agrees with me entirely. This is long past due. I’ve already spoken to Billy as well. He says he can take care of any projects that come your way. He’s hired an intern.”

“He told me about the intern, but he didn’t say why. The rat fink. I thought he was kidding. He’s crazy if he thinks an intern can simply step in and start processing film.”

“Isn’t that how you got started?”

She didn’t answer.

“I’ve already booked our flights. It is all arranged.”

“No, it’s not all arranged. You can’t just make arrangements without me. Papa. We can’t go.”

“Oh my God, Mom.” Julie’s voice sounded taut with exasperation. “That’s your answer to everything: No. We can’t. Every. Single. Time.”

“It’s risky and irresponsible.” Camille got up and started clearing the table, her movements swift with irritation. The prospect of a trip, even one her father yearned for, was terrifying to her. “Listen. We can’t just take off. Our passports are probably expired.”

“No, they’re not,” Julie said. “Mine’s still good. I’ve kept track.”

“Then you already know mine is going to expire next month,” Camille said. Shortly before Jace died, they’d gotten a new passport for Julie so they could take her to Jamaica for Christmas. That trip had never happened, and the passports had been retired to a junk drawer.

“We can get yours renewed,” said Julie. “How hard can it be?”

Eight

Camille went to the library and fetched an armload of books, placing the stack on a long wooden table. The town library had always felt like a home away from home to her, a place of safety, filled with a comforting, insulated quiet, and the strangely appealing scent of books. It was located near the town center in an old Federal-era brick building, proudly maintained by a generous community.

After her parents had divorced, she used to come here to lose herself among the pages of books that transported her far from the strange new world of two households. In the wake of Jace’s death, there had been no comfort, but she came to the library looking for signs that there was some kind of life for her on the other side of grief. And after Papa’s cancer diagnosis, she had found books here that had taught her the unexpected grace in helping a loved one through illness. Today she needed something else—a way to navigate the rocky shoals of adolescence.

She was trying to decide which book to dive into first when a gaggle of high schoolers pushed and shoved their way through the door, earning a shush from the librarian in charge. For the most part, they settled down, slinging backpacks into study carrels or at computer stations. Camille spotted Vanessa Larson and Jana Jacobs among the kids—Julie’s two chief tormentors. Great. She tried to ignore their presence, but a few moments later, she heard the hiss of a scathing whisper and saw movement out of the corner of her eye. The girls were settling themselves at a table on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling shelves.

“They are so checking us out,” Vanessa whispered.

“Who?”

“Travis Mundy and Dylan Olsen. No, don’t look now! Be cool.”

“They’re seniors. They aren’t checking us out,” Jana whispered back.

“Are, too. Keep watching. Just don’t let them catch you. I bet I could get them to give us a ride to the Shake Shack.”

Some things in high school never changed, Camille thought. The two of them were the pretty, popular girls, slender and stylish, young women just growing into their beauty. And perhaps getting their first taste of power.

“My parents would kill if I got into a car with a boy,” Jana said.