Conversations on nearby towels dipped. A family two spots over glanced back and forth like spectators at a match; under a sun-bleached umbrella, a pair of teenagers pretended not to stare and failed.
The mother glanced past Claire at the boy, already barreling toward the water again, then back at her laptop. “It’s a beach,” the woman said lightly, one shoulder lifting. “Sand happens.” “Of course,” Claire replied.