Chapter 24

Though they were “friends” online, Tara harbored no illusions about what she meant to Amanda. Yes, they were cousins. But Amanda’s memories of her must have been even sketchier than hers were of the few times they had spent together. Tara’s family used to vacation for a week or two every year in New Jersey, but that had petered out once Tara entered high school; Amanda would’ve been seven or eight at the time.

The last visit Tara made had been her freshman year of college, when her uncle—Amanda’s father, Tara’s mother’s brother—died suddenly of a heart attack. Then Amanda had been a sullen teen, face buried beneath a veil of hair, the whole trip a wash of tears and sadness. It was in November, so the island paradise of Wildwood, New Jersey, had also dimmed. The flashing lights and calliope music of the boardwalk were gone, the beaches empty. Even the sea had been dark and roiling. Nothing about the visit had been pleasant, and when Tara left, she never wanted to return. It hurt too much to see the whole place shuttered and dark with the coming winter.

Now, twenty years later, Tara found herself working long hours as an office manager for a construction company, and the carefree summers of her childhood were a wash of nostalgia that made her long for simpler times. Long days spent on the beach, without worrying about bills or bosses or deadlines. Evenings strolling the boardwalk, the sea breeze blowing the hair off her sweaty forehead, cotton candy and Italian ices and soft pretzels, Skee-ball in the arcades and the Sightseers Tramcar calling out as it paroled the boardwalk, “Watch the Tramcar please. Watch the Tramcar please.”

And she couldn’t forget the rides. The boardwalk ran parallel to the sea, with piers jutting out toward the water, and each pier overflowed with amusement park rides she always thought were the best in the world. Hunt’s Pier was the first one she’d come upon, when she started walking from the end of the boardwalk closest to her uncle’s house, and it was home to her favorite ride of all, the Flyer—a wooden roller coaster she would ride all night if her parents let her. She loved the other rides on Hunt’s, as well, like the Golden Nugget, Keystone Kops, Whacky Shack, Jungleland, Log Flume. There were piers further down the boardwalk, Morey’s and Mariner’s Landing, which housed the large Ferris wheel visible from anywhere on the island, but Hunt’s Pier was the best, bar none.

* * * *

Amanda’s wedding evite stayed in Tara’s trash folder for a day or two, but it was never far from her thoughts. She checked it once, telling herself she wasn’t going but she was curious to know when it would be. The only reason Amanda had sent it was to solicit a gift from her; that much was obvious. Tara knew Amanda didn’t really expect her to show up.

But the address listed was in Wildwood—not the same house her family had lived when Tara used to visit them years earlier, but on the island, all the same. The wedding itself was scheduled for some time near the end of August. Tara double-checked her calendar, and saw it was the same weekend she was slated to have off from work. She’d been with J.T. Lansten long enough that she had first pick of the vacation calendar, and enough time coming to her to take a few days off every month, which was what she did. Not being married or, hell, even in any sort of relationship to speak of, she didn’t need a full week off at any particular time of the year. But three days here and there was a nice way to break up her schedule, and she’d put down for some time at the end of August specifically because she knew things could get hectic at the end of the summer as construction projects began to wrap up before the fall.

During her lunch break, Tara checked her credit cards, then her savings. If memory served, the road trip from Richmond, Virginia, to Wildwood, New Jersey, was a good six hour drive. Hotels would be at a premium at the end of August, though, and it was already June, so chances were she wouldn’t even be able to find an available room for the weekend of the wedding. She looked over the evite again, but didn’t see any particular hotel mentioned, so she doubted Amanda had reserved space somewhere for out of state guests.

Under her breath, she muttered at the computer screen, “Bitch wants me to send money, that’s all this is. She doesn’t actually want me to show up or anything.”

But the more Tara thought about it, the more a mini-vacation away from it all sounded right up her alley. Sure, she knew it wouldn’t be exactlylike it had been when she was younger, but it might come close. The boardwalk was still there, she knew—a quick Google search pulled up images of the big Ferris wheel lit up like a holiday against the night sky, and vacation pictures of people with boogie boards frolicking in the waves.