And I’d just wipe down the already-clean counters and look up at the clock, trying to calculate how much time was left before I could go home. But there was something sad about the silence that was between us whenever we worked together, especially considering that when we were younger, when she’d been my friend, we had never run out of things to say to each other. If my mother would comment on how chatty we were, Lucy would always say the same thing—that we didn’t see each other for most of the year, and that we had nine months’ of stuff to catch up on. And now, in contrast, there was silence. Silence so palpable, it was like you could feel it in the air. When I worked with Lucy, I’d find myself so desperate for conversation that I’d go down to the lifeguard chair on my breaks to try to talk to Leland. And Leland wasn’t exactly the world’s finest conversationalist, as most of his responses—no matter what you said—usually consisted of some variation of “totally,” “no way,” and “I hear that noise.”

There were two other lifeguards, Rachel and Ivy, who rotated shifts with him. But they were both in college, and tended to hang out mostly with each other, stopping by the snack bar only when they wanted a bottle of water or a Diet Coke. Even though they weren’t overly friendly, their presence was reassuring, because I was still not convinced that someone as spacey as Leland ever should have been put in charge of guarding people’s lives.

I placed the woman’s diet soda, still fizzing, on the counter in front of me, and snapped on the plastic lid. I put the cup of ice next to it and slid them both across the counter from her just as Elliot dinged the bell to let me know the fries were ready. I picked up the container, warm, with that hot-fry smell that made my stomach rumble, even though it was only eleven in the morning, salted them generously, and placed them next to the woman’s drink. She was talking on her cell as she picked them up, but she nodded and mouthed Thanks as she headed back to her towel.

I looked out at the mostly empty beach and shifted from foot to foot, trying to get some warmth back into my extremities. It was a cloudy, overcast day, and we’d had only about three customers so far. Lucy was working as well, but had left to make a phone call about half an hour before and hadn’t come back yet. I ran my hands up and down my arms, wishing that I’d worn a sweatshirt over my uniform T-shirt that morning, like Elliot, Lucy, and even Leland had been smart enough to do.

If I’d been biking to work, like Elliot and Lucy did, I undoubtedly would have worn a sweatshirt. But I was still coming to work by car, despite the fact that my mother had told me repeatedly that it was inconvenient to have one car stranded at the beach parking lot all day long. And even though my dad had gotten my mother’s old bike ready for me to ride it, I’d left it so far to sit in the garage. I wasn’t sure if it was possible to forget entirely how to ride a bike, but I was in no hurry to find out.

“Cold?” I looked over and saw Elliot pushing himself up to sit on the counter next to me.

“Just a little,” I said. I took a sip of the hot chocolate I’d made for myself that morning, but found it was no longer warm enough to really help.

“There’s probably something in there,” Elliot said as he pointed under the counter.

“I don’t know,” I said doubtfully as I pulled out the lost and found box. I’d become quite familiar with the box in the week I’d been working there. Even though it was still early in the summer, the cardboard box was already full to the gills. I looked through it, a little amazed at the things that people left behind. I mean, how could you leave the beach and not realize you were no longer in possession of your bathing suit top? Or your left, men’s size eleven, flip-flop? The only warm thing I found in the bin was a hideous white sweatshirt that read, Teachers Do It With Class! across the front in green script.

Elliot nodded approvingly. “Nice,” he said.

It was the opposite of nice, but at that moment the wind picked up, and two of the remaining beach stragglers got to their feet and started folding up their blanket. I shivered again, then pulled the sweatshirt over my head.

“So I heard you saw Henry,” Elliot said.

I froze, wondering if it would be possible to just stay like that, until I figured out what to say. I didn’t think I could hide inside a sweatshirt, though, without appearing totally crazy. I pulled my head through the neck hole and smoothed my hair down, willing myself not to blush but feeling that I nevertheless was. I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me that Elliot and Henry would still be friends. I wondered which of the embarrassing encounters he’d told Elliot about—or if he’d given him the complete rundown. “Um, yeah,” I said, busying myself with putting the lost and found box back under the counter. “A couple times.”

I looked at Elliot, willing him to tell me what Henry had said about these meetings without having to ask him. “So…” I started, then stopped when I realized I had no idea how to ask this without sounding needy or pathetic—and with the added knowledge that this conversation might make its way right back to Henry. “Never mind,” I muttered, leaning back against the counter and taking a big sip of my now-cold chocolate.

“I think you’ve thrown him for a loop,” Elliot said, shaking his head. “And that is a guy who does not do well when thrown for a loop.”

I nodded as though this was perfectly understandable, all the while wondering what, exactly, this meant, and wishing I could ask Elliot more directly. Before I could say anything, though, two things happened almost at the same time—Lucy breezed in through the employee door, and Fred’s red face appeared at the window.

“My God,” Lucy said. “I’m freezing!” She glanced at me, then looked at my sweatshirt and raised her eyebrows just as Fred dropped his tackle box on the counter, loud enough to make us all jump.

“Hi, Fred,” Elliot said, as he scrambled off the counter (where we weren’t supposed to sit) and, maybe in an attempt to look busy, started straightening the display of chips.

“Hi,” Lucy said, sliding her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and leaning casually against the counter, as though she’d been there all along. “How’s the fishing?”

“Not so good,” Fred said with a sigh. “I think they’re onto me.” He pointed at me. “Are you ready for Friday?”