CHAPTER 1

August 15

"Okay, you guys! It's four-thirty and time to get this barbecue show on the road," Brian Yves Murphy ordered, clapping his hands to get his family's attention. His wife, Emma, and his daughter, Juliette, were draped over the living room furniture in the modest two-bedroom cottage they had rented for two weeks across from a hardscrabble beach in Wellfleet, Massachusetts, just beyond the town's harbor. All of them were appropriately exhausted after an active, fun-filled midsummer day that marked the beginning of their final week of vacation. Because of the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic, they'd opted for a road trip vacation rather than flying down to Florida to use Emma's parents' empty condo, as was their usual summer getaway.

"Can't we just recover for ten to fifteen minutes?" Emma pleaded jokingly despite knowing full well that Brian wouldn't hear of it. In truth, she was as compulsive as he in terms of getting the most out of every minute of their vacation while the weather held. On top of that, she was also as compulsively fit and active as he. That morning she had awakened just after dawn and had soundlessly slipped out of the house for a bike ride and to be first in line at PB Boulangerie for their one-of-a-kind, freshly baked almond croissants. It had been a welcome surprise when they discovered the French bakery so far from what they called civilization. As life long residents of Inwood, Manhattan, they considered themselves quintessential New Yorkers and assumed anything outside of the city was hinterland.

"Sorry, but no rest for the weary," he said. "I'd like to get to the Newcomb Hollow Beach parking lot before the evening rush to make sure we get a spot." They had found over their first few days that Newcomb Hollow was their favorite Atlantic-side beach, with fewer people and high dunes that acted as partial windbreaks from the onshore breeze.

"But why the rush?" questioned Emma. "We already got a beach parking permit when we got the fire permit."

"The parking permit lets us park, but it doesn't guarantee a spot. Plus, Newcomb Hollow Beach is a popular spot for obvious reasons."

"Okay," she said agreeably. She got up and stretched her shoulders, which were mildly sore from the kayaking on Long Pond they had done that morning, an unusual workout for both of them. Then in the early afternoon she and Brian had done their daily mini-triathlon that involved biking ten miles to Truro and back, swimming for one mile in the bay, and running for five more into the Cape Cod National Seashore. Meanwhile, four-year-old Juliette had spent time with a local high school girl named Becky whom they had luckily found to serve as a daily sitter on day one. The lucky part was that Becky, despite being a teenager, was surprisingly acceptive and attentive to the required testing, mask wearing, and social distancing mandated by the Covid-19 pandemic.

"I'll get towels, the grill, briquettes, beach chairs, and toys and load it all in the car," he rattled off, heading into the kitchen. He'd been looking forward to the barbecue for several days. Although they wouldn't have the sunset like they did every evening over Cape Cod Bay, the Atlantic side was glorious, especially compared to the narrow, seashell-littered beach in front of their cottage.

"Ten four," Emma said. She glanced down at Juliette. The child seemed to already be asleep, although Emma was aware she could be pretending, as she often did when she didn't want to be bothered. With her eyes closed and lips slightly parted, she was clutching her favorite toy and constant companion named Bunny: a foot-long, very floppy, light brown, worse-for-wear stuffed rabbit with one missing eye. Emma couldn't help but stare at her with loving eyes, thinking as a mother that Juliette might very well be the world's most beautiful child, with her slightly upturned sculpted nose, Cupid's bow lips, and thick