The driveway was bright with Florida sunshine when I carried the heavy canvas bag out to the car. Emma followed me, carrying her favorite stuffed rabbit by its long, grey ear.
“Did you find the sandal?” I asked, setting the bag into the trunk next to our two small suitcases.
“No,” Emma said, her lower lip turning outward. “I looked under the television stand too. There was only a dusty penny.”
I sighed, leaning into the back seat to check the floorboards. I reached under the passenger seat, my fingers brushing against soft, familiar rubber near the seat track. I pulled out the missing pink sandal, shaking a few grains of sand onto the gravel driveway.
“Found it,” I said, holding it up like a trophy.
Emma let out a cheer, her mood instantly shifting back to excitement. She snatched the sandal from my hand and slipped it onto her foot, stomping twice to secure the heel.
“Can we get cotton candy ice cream when we get there?” she asked, hopping on one foot near the rear bumper. “The kind from the little white cart?”
“If we get unpacked before the afternoon heat, we can walk down to the boardwalk,” I said, closing the trunk with a firm click.
The drive down the coast was quiet, the highway lined with endless rows of slash pines and billboards advertising discount beach towels. I watched the rear-view mirror, half-expecting to see Owen’s silver sedan behind us, but the highway was just a steady stream of minivans and camper vans heading south.
Emma fell asleep forty miles into the trip, her head leaning against the window frame. I kept my eyes on the road, watching the temperature gauge climb steadily as the noon hour approached.
The lobby of the Miramar Beach Resort was cool and smelled of artificial lavender. The large glass windows looked out over a paved courtyard where families were already walking toward the beach, carrying colorful pool noodles and striped lounge chairs.
