Chapter 7
At least she didn’t have to make dinner. That was what Dawn told herself as she gathered her purse, phone, notecards, and jean jacket. She wasn’t looking forward to an evening arguing about the marina bridge with two firefighters and a woman with excellent taste in dishtowels, but that was what she’d signed up for.
“Sierra,” Dawn called up the stairs, “time to go.” She opened the fridge and took out a six-pack of Redhook Ale, since she didn’t want to show up empty handed.
Monday was her one day off from the Forgotten Hug. She’d spent all morning researching solutions to marina safety that didn’t involve destroying the beach. Then, once Sierra woke up, they’d binge-watched Disney+ and gorged on popcorn. The house was a wreck, the fridge was empty, and they hadn’t gotten any exercise, but it had been a great day.
“Sierra,” Dawn called, “hurry up. We’re running late.”
“Coming!” Footsteps clattered down the stairs, and Sierra appeared wearing ripped leggings and a tie-dyed T-shirt. She’d slicked her brown hair into a messy bun and wore the biggest earrings she owned, which were tiny gold stars that dangled delicately from each lobe. “I’m just putting my shoes on,” said Sierra as she stuffed her feet into canvas slides. She was eleven years old going on twenty.
Dawn swam in a sea of wistful emotions. “That T-shirt you made turned out great,” she said. “I didn’t think orange and pink would work together, but you proved me wrong.”
“Thanks.” Sierra spun around. “What do you think of the leggings? I watched a YouTube video on how to rip them like lace.”
“They look like you bought them that way.” Dawn nodded with approval. “Nobody would know they weren’t from the mall.”
“I know, right?” Sierra’s eyes drifted over to Dawn’s jean jacket. “You’re not wearing that, are you?”
“Why not? It goes with my sundress.”
“But I was going to wear my jean jacket, and I don’t want us to look like we match.”
“Oh,” Dawn said, trying to keep the hurt from her voice. Last week really was their last time as a fancifully coordinated mother-daughter duo. “I’ll grab a sweater instead.”
They were on the road five minutes later, driving away from their home a few blocks from the water and toward the other end of Harper Landing, the part of town closest to Seattle. Houses became smaller, garages shrank, and front lawns turned brown, not because the homeowners didn’t take care of them but because they didn’t have automatic sprinkler systems like Dawn and her neighbors did. Her lawn was always green because Mark had programmed smart sprinklers that synced with a weather app on her phone.
“I know I was annoyed with you when you made me invite my whole class for my birthday party this year, but now I’m glad you did.” Sierra spoke loudly so that Dawn could hear her from the backseat of the BMW X5. She might have looked grown up, but she was still one inch shy of the booster seat law in Washington.
“I’m glad you’re glad.” Dawn tapped her fingers on the steering wheel in time to the Foo Fighters song playing on the radio.
“Mikaela didn’t invite me to her birthday party, but I invited her to mine.”
Dawn looked in the rearview mirror and saw Sierra putting on lip balm. “That shows you have good manners.” When she was growing up, Beth and Jim had always insisted on good manners. “Please” and “you’re welcome” were only the beginning. Dawn could also write a prompt thank-you note in clear and decipherable cursive.
“It also shows how stuck-up she is,” said Sierra. “Mikaela didn’t invite any of the girls from school to her birthday party, except for Emilie. She thinks she’s better than everybody.”
“Maybe Mikaela didn’t have a birthday party.” Dawn turned on her blinker and merged into the left-hand turn lane.
“Of course she had a birthday party. Mikaela told us all about it during morning announcements. She even had a bouncy house, which you know, is kind of babyish, but still...”
Hearing Sierra’s musing made Dawn reconsider the impression she’d formed of Mikaela yesterday afternoon at her shop. To Dawn, Mikaela had seemed lonely and insecure. But maybe Sierra was right, and the girl was a snob. Dawn had known girls like that in sixth grade, the ones who made a big deal over whether a kid’s parent worked as an engineer at the Columbia Generating Station nuclear power plant or was a clean-up specialist at Hanford like Jim. White collar versus blue collar, some things never changed.
“Well,” Dawn said, “thanks for agreeing to come with me tonight, even though you and Mikaela aren’t BFFs.”
“Mom, nobody says BFF anymore. Now they say bestie.”
“Really? Since when?”
“Since March. It’s a good thing you have me around, or you’d sound like Grandma Joan.”
Mark’s parents, Joan and Ted St. James, lived on Mercer Island and visited Mikaela frequently. Joan was an archivist at the University of Washington, and Ted was a lawyer at the same firm where Mark worked. Mikaela saw Grandma Joan more often than Granny Beth, since Beth lived an hour and a half away.
“Dealing with Mikaela will be worth it tonight, because I love making slime,” said Sierra. “I hope they bought liquid starch because Borax makes me sneeze.”
Dawn thought back to the last time Sierra had made slime. She’d been too preoccupied solving a formatting issue on her Etsy site to properly supervise. “You didn’t breathe in Borax, did you?”
“No, it just tickles your nose a bit when you close the box. You know, like with laundry detergent.” Mikaela had been doing her own laundry since fourth grade. “That’s why we should use pods.”
“I know,” Dawn admitted. “I keep meaning to buy some. I didn’t for years because they’re dangerous to have around babies.” Not that she needed to worry about that now, she thought with that same wistful mood that had haunted her all afternoon.
Dawn parked by the curb of a one-story house with a carport in front. She double-checked the piece of paper Alison had given her. A minivan and a sedan were under the carport, and a Nissan Xterra was parked in front of her. All three vehicles had flames on their license plates.
“I’m here for the free slime, but why are you here again?” Sierra asked, unbuckling her seatbelt. “There’re over two thousand five hundred signatures on the petition. We don’t need these people to save the beach.”
“Actually, we do.” Dawn picked up the pile of notecards she’d made that morning from her research on marina safety and put them in the pocket of her sundress. “We don’t know if all the people who signed that petition are really from Harper Landing or if they saw it online and chose to sign, even though they might live in another state.”
“Isn’t there some way to screen for that?” Sierra opened her door.
“There might be,” Dawn admitted. “It was my first time making a petition, and I did it in a rush.”
“It’s still pretty cool, Mom.” Sierra hugged her from the side. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.” Dawn resisted the urge to ruffle Sierra’s hair. Each messy curl was pinned in place with such precision that hair tousling would be a crime against styling. “We don’t have to stay here long. We’ll eat dinner, make slime, and get out of here in an hour, okay?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Sierra held back and let Dawn take the lead walking up the path to the front door. A rainbow of bright petunias lined the pathway, bursting with vibrant colors against the dormant lawn.
The porch had a cast iron Dalmatian boot scraper by the red front door. Sierra used it on her immaculate slides.
Dawn lifted the knocker in the shape of a yellow fire hydrant and let it fall. “Apparently we’re in the right place,” she muttered.
Laurie opened the door a few seconds later, wearing an apron with Rosie the Riveter on the front. Her brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she had a glove-style potholder on one hand. “You made it!” She smiled brightly.
Dawn noticed Laurie’s bare feet. “Should we take off our shoes?” she asked.
“Nah.” Laurie pointed at the scratched wood floor. “They’ve needed refinishing ever since the twins rode their trikes inside. I’ll run the Roomba later to pick up dirt.”
“Where’s Mikaela?” Sierra asked.
“Out in the backyard.” Laurie waved them inside. “Come on in, and I’ll show you the way.”
They followed her through the small living room into an even more minuscule kitchen. Organized clutter was omnipresent. A bookshelf wedged next to the kitchen table contained about fifty cookbooks. A picture collage of Alison working at Station Two hung next to it, along with dozens of portraits of Ash and Trent. Dawn also saw pictures of Mikaela and Warren taped next to a mammoth color-coded calendar hanging on the opposing wall. A gallery of preschool artwork papered the refrigerator, and the one spot of counter space that wasn’t dominated by kitchen gadgets held a watermelon that was half sliced.
Dawn was fine with cramped spaces. She’d grown up in homes similar to this one, first her childhood house in Kennewick then the tiny apartment she shared with her mom when she and Beth moved to Harper Landing. But she noticed Sierra’s gaze darting around the room like she didn’t know what to look at next. Her daughter’s discomfort with—or worse, silent judgement of— the small house was easily discernible. Had the affluence Mark’s child support payments afforded them turned her daughter into a snob?
Snob. There was that word again. She’d never heard Sierra use the term, and it certainly never crossed Mark’s or her former in-laws’ lips. Joan and Ted always treated Dawn with the utmost respect, even that first Christmas when she’d brought homemade Chex Mix and set it next to their salmon rosette canapés and caviar. Still, Dawn resolved to do a better job of exposing Sierra to friends from wider economic backgrounds, those who didn’t live so close to the beach. She needed roots in reality.
That was why the beach was so important, Dawn reminded herself. That was why they were here. Harper Landing Beach was the great equalizer, the beautiful place everyone could enjoy, no matter how much they paid in property taxes or rent. Some people could walk to the beach, others had to drive to it, but as long as it was protected, everyone in Harper Landing was ten minutes away from a seaside escape.
“You brought beer,” said Laurie. “Thanks. There’s a cooler on the deck, where you can put it on ice. Come on. I’ll show you.”
They headed to a large backyard, where Trent and Ash played in a sandbox shaped like a fire engine. Mikaela sat with them, wearing shorts and a baseball cap. The boys dug with toy bulldozers, but Mikaela had created an elaborate sandcastle complete with turrets. When the girl noticed Dawn and Sierra’s arrival, she dropped her shovel and sat on the side of the box, like she was an observer of sandbox antics instead of a participant.
Warren stood in front of a grill, cleaning the grate with a wire brush. His collared shirt stretched taut across his broad shoulders, and his shorts were the same tan color as his skin. “Hello,” he said in a deep voice. His eyes lingered on Dawn in a way that made her blush.
“Hi.” Dawn fought the pull of attraction she felt toward him but failed. She was forced to admit that while he might spout short-sighted views on protecting the shoreline, he was damn good looking.
“Welcome.” Alison stood from her chair. She wore her short blond hair slicked to the side. “Would you like a drink?” She lifted the lid to the red cooler.
“Thanks.” Dawn handed over the six-pack. “I hope someone likes beer.”
Alison took the ale and laughed. “That’s the same brand Warren brought.”
Dawn glanced over at Warren and saw a bottle of Redhook sitting on the table next to the barbecue. “At least we agree on something,” she said.
“Probably lots of things.” Laurie nodded. “I’ll be right back. I need to finish up in the kitchen.”
“There’s soda in here, too,” said Alison. “Or would you prefer a juice box, Sierra?”
“She’s not in preschool,” Mikaela called from the grass. She climbed out of the sandbox and brushed her hands on her thighs. “And it’s not really soda, Sierra. It’s sparkling water. They just call it soda so the twins think they’re getting a special treat.”
Alison cringed. “Guilty as charged. But that’s Laurie’s doing, not mine.”
“I want a juice box,” said one of the boys.
“You already had one, Ash, and that’s plenty,” said Alison. “You know what the dentist said about juice and cavities. What about a soda, instead?” She winked at Sierra and Mikaela.
“I hate soda.” Ash scowled.
“I’ll have a soda.” Sierra dug into the ice and pulled out a can. “Or a La Croix. Whatever.”
“Cool earrings,” said Mikaela. “How long have your ears been pierced?”
Sierra closed the lid to the cooler. “Since I was ten.”
“My dad won’t let me get my ears pierced.” Mikaela looked over at Warren and scowled. “Which is ridiculous. I’ll be the only girl in middle school without pierced ears.”
“Middle school.” Warren groaned and slapped his hand over his chest. “Stop saying those horrible words. You’ll give me a heart attack.”
“They’re not horrible words,” Mikaela protested.
“Sixth graders should still be in elementary school, if you ask me,” said Warren. “Why grow up so fast?”
“Dad, I’m not a kid anymore.” Mikaela pulled down her baseball cap. She raised her head so she could see past the brim and looked at Sierra. “Sorry my dad’s saying dumb stuff.”
Sierra shrugged. “It’s okay. My dad says dumb stuff all the time.”
Dawn was relieved that Mark wasn’t there to hear Sierra throw him under the bus like that, but she had to admit that Sierra was right. Mark was known for his ridiculous comments, like their first Thanksgiving when Mark had asked Beth why she put marshmallows in the sweet potatoes.
“Do you want to make slime?” Mikaela asked. “It’s set up in my room.”
“Lucky.” Sierra crinkled her can of sparkling water. “My mom would never let me make slime in my room.”
“Hey!” Dawn protested, now that she was the one being dumped on. “It’s not my fault the previous owners of our house chose white carpet.”
Sierra followed Mikaela into the house, leaving Dawn feeling outnumbered. She helped herself to a beer and popped the top, using the bottle opener on her keychain. “What a large backyard you have,” she said as she sat down. “What is this, a third of an acre?” In addition to the lawn and sand box, she saw a huge vegetable garden and raspberry patch.
“That’s right.” Alison nodded. “Laurie and I bought this house eight years ago because of the yard. Our dogs loved it.” She pointed at two dwarf apple trees with memorial stones at the side of the yard. “Haze died three years ago, and Smoky passed away six months later.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Dawn. “What type of dogs were they?”
“A little of this and a little of that. We rescued them from the shelter.”
“Hey, Warren, are you ready for the burgers?” Laurie stood at the sliding door, holding a tray of hamburger patties.
“I’ll light the grill right now.”
Laurie dropped the burgers off on the table next to the barbecue and went back inside. Warren opened the valve of the propane tank, turned on the burners on the barbecue, clicked the starter, and lit the grill with a long-handled lighter. After closing the lid, he picked up his beer and gazed at Dawn for a moment before he took a sip.
Dawn felt the intensity of his stare and didn’t know what to make of it. Yesterday at the Forgotten Hug, her heated conversation with Warren had been borderline unfriendly. The way he looked at her now, however, felt heated in a different way. But Dawn wasn’t there to be confused by a handsome firefighter. She had come to make a point. Now that all four adults were present, they could talk about the beach.
Dawn took a swig of her beer and tried to think how best to approach the subject. Maybe she should start with the importance of protecting open space. Laurie and Alison had a huge backyard, so outside space must be important to them.
“That’s a great sandbox you have there,” Dawn said, reaching into her pocket and touching her notecards.
“Warren built it.” Alison grinned. “Unfortunately, it’s more dirt than sand at this point. The boys practically live in mud.” She settled back into the cushions of her chair. “What have you got there, Trent?”
“A worm from the garden.” Trent dangled it between his fingers. “Look, Warren. Wanna see?”
“Absolutely, buddy. Just give me a sec to put the burgers on now that the grill is hot.”
After placing the meat on the grill and closing the lid again, Warren walked up the grass to the sandbox and crouched down so that he was at eye level with Trent, who stretched the worm out as long as it could go. Warren gave the boy his full attention, the same high level of focus he had given Frank Reynolds at the Nuthatch the other night. “Let’s take that worm back to the vegetable garden. Sand’s not good for worms.”
Laurie came outside a moment later and sat down next to Dawn. “Warren’s such a great dad. It’s obvious, right?”
“What?” Dawn jerked her attention away from Warren and Trent walking up the slope to the back of the property. She felt guilty that she’d been caught staring at him.
“He’s almost like a father to our boys,” Laurie added.
“Not that they need a father,” Alison said.
Laurie locked eyes with Alison. “But we definitely recognize the importance of a positive male role model in their lives, right?”
“Right,” Alison agreed.
Dawn felt unsure about what was going on, but she wanted to bring the conversation back to the beach. “It’s wonderful that you have this big backyard,” she said, trying again with her open-space angle. “Not everyone is so fortunate.”
“It’s a great backyard.” Laurie nodded. “We could handle another kid or two back here, easy.”
Alison folded her arms across her chest and glared at Laurie. “And where would Mikaela sleep when she stayed with us?”
The women stared at each other for a moment in a silent contest of wills before Laurie broke eye contact with her wife and offered Dawn an apologetic look. “Mikaela feels like our daughter, but she isn’t. We’ve swapped childcare with Warren ever since his divorce.”
“Which is good, because daycare is hideously expensive,” said Alison, still looking at Laurie. “Diapers. Clothes. Doctors appointments. All those things add up too.”
“But we don’t pay for daycare,” Laurie said. “We have hand-me-downs stored in the attic, and our health insurance is great.”
“Speaking of daycare,” said Dawn, sensing an opportunity. “The YMCA and Boys and Girls Club run camps at the beach all summer long.”
“Uh huh.” Alison kept her laser focus on her wife. “Let’s talk about this later.”
“The beach?” Dawn raised her eyebrows. “But that’s why I’m here.”
“Of course it is.” Laurie smiled and rose to her feet. “I’ll go toss the salad.”
Warren and Trent were making their way down the grass toward the deck.
“Hey, Ash,” Warren said as they passed the sandbox. “It’s almost time to clean up for dinner. This is your five-minute warning.”
“How are the burgers coming?” Laurie asked from the back door.
“I don’t know.” Warren held up his muddy hands. “I need to wash my hands before I check them.” He glanced over his shoulder at Dawn and Alison with a grin. “Unless people want worms with their dinners?”
Alison chuckled. “No, thank you.”
“You mentioned daycare,” Dawn said as soon as Warren and Laurie left. She refused to let these people change the subject. “Those summer camps at the beach are an affordable option that working parents rely on. If we mess up the beach, it’ll be even harder for some families to live here.”
“We have other places the Boys and Girls Club and the YMCA can hold camp,” said Alison. “Like our parks and woods.”
“They already go to those places. Ask Sierra. She’s done them all.”
“I believe you,” said Alison. “But think of it from a safety perspective. Parks and woods, I can reach with my equipment. The beach, however, would be blocked off if a train derailed.”
“Beach talk. Oh boy.” Warren came out on deck, holding a platter and a package of cheese. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing.” Alison leaned forward in her chair. “I was just about to ask Dawn what would happen if a train exploded and all of those day camp kids she mentioned were trapped on the other side of the tracks?”
“A fireboat could help them,” Dawn replied. Pulling her index cards out of her pocket was tempting, but she kept them stashed away for now.
“Those can cost twenty-five million dollars.” Warren lifted the barbecue’s lid and flipped the burgers. “Burgers will be ready in five minutes.”
“I’m not talking about a fireboat big enough for Elliot Bay in Seattle,” said Dawn. “I mean a smaller fireboat, like the one they use in Victoria Harbor up in British Columbia.”
“That would never work.” Alison rose to her feet. “Boys, it’s time to wash your hands.”
The twins acted like they didn’t hear her.
“Boys,” Warren said in a warning tone, “you heard your mother.”
“Oh, all right,” one of the twins said.
The other one—Dawn thought it was Ash—jammed his bulldozer into Mikaela’s sandcastle before he exited the sandbox. His brother came, too, and the twins followed Alison into the house.
Dawn and Warren were alone, which made her nervous, but she was determined. She got up from her chair and walked over to the barbecue. She watched Warren’s muscled forearms as he placed cheese slices on some of the patties. When he twisted his wrist to slide a finished hamburger onto the platter, his biceps bulged.
Dawn forced herself to pull her eyes away from Warren’s muscles and onto his face. “Why don’t you think a fireboat would work?” she asked.
“It’s not that it wouldn’t work. It’s that the city wouldn’t pay for it.” He slid another patty onto the plate. “A fireboat like they have in Victoria would cost a million dollars.”
“And how much would the safety bridge cost? Probably at least that.”
“A bridge wouldn’t need to be replaced every ten years like a boat would.”
“But it would need to be maintained,” Dawn pointed out. “And it wouldn’t be able to help people out in the Sound.”
“That’s what the Coast Guard’s for.”
“Then why couldn’t the Coast Guard help people on the beach during a once-in-a-lifetime event like a coal-train derailment?” Dawn clasped her hands behind her back so she wouldn’t hunch over in her sundress.
“I don’t know,” Warren admitted. “Maybe the Coast Guard would help. But we can’t make emergency plans for the city by banking on what other agencies might do. Plus, the Coast Guard vessels would be all the way down in Seattle, and in a disaster, seconds count.”
“Which would be another reason it would be good for Harper Landing to have a fireboat. What if a ferry caught fire?”
“The Harper Landing-Port Inez ferry has never caught fire.”
“And a coal train has never derailed here, either,” said Dawn. Frustrated, she looked down at the grill. “Where are the veggie burgers?”
“Um...” Warren froze and stared at the meat. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know you were a vegetarian.”
“I’m not.” She winked and stuck her hand in her pocket. “I’m just messing with you.”
Warren laughed, which cooled the tension simmering between them. “You had me going there, not that there’s anything wrong with being vegetarian.”
“I’d eat hamburgers every day if I could.” Dawn smiled.
She needed to shift tactics, because arguing with Warren was getting her nowhere. One thing she’d learned from Mark was that friendliness could win debates better than yelling. Mark had an innate ability to win people to his side using clear facts and a heavy helping of charm.
Dawn leaned forward and read the meat thermometer. “Almost done.” She looked up at Warren and batted her eyelashes. “Those look delicious.”