of them might be
rude.”
She cried.
I held her.
Then she whispered:
“I felt normal there.”
“You were normal there.”
“I mean normal-normal.”
“I know what you mean.”
“I don’t want to hide again.”
“Then don’t make that decision tonight.”
She looked at me.
“You don’t have to be brave tonight.
You just have to get through tonight.”
The next morning, Noah called the resort.
We did not accuse anyone.
We asked whether professional photography vendors had been authorized on
the beach property.
The beach itself included public areas, so the answer was complicated.
The resort had contracted photographers for certain events.
The man in Liam’s picture did not appear to be one of their current
vendors.
Then Gwen finally called.
“What do you want?”
“The truth.”
“I hired a photographer.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Why?”
“For my business.”
“What does Maya have to do with your
