The mother, still oblivious, didn’t look up once. Claire knew then that whatever came next, she wasn’t going to swallow it down anymore. Claire wiped the last stubborn grains of sand from her arm and finally stood.
Her shadow stretched across the mother’s towel as she approached, book tucked under one arm, thermos in the other. “Hi—sorry to bother you,” Claire began, keeping her voice even. “I’m really trying to be patient, but your son just kicked sand into my drink and all over me. Could he maybe play a little farther away?”