Though the heat outside was intense, the cool breeze from the car's AC sent a shiver down Andrew's spine. Something felt off, but he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

He glanced at his son, Jordan, for a brief moment, a flicker of concern in his eyes. Was his son up to something? But when he looked closer, Jordan was peacefully asleep in the backseat.

"Are we going to get out, or not?" Julie's voice broke through his thoughts, her tone tinged with impatience. She was frustrated that they had been idling in the car with nothing happening.

They had already arrived at the restaurant. Andrew turned his attention to the imposing sign ahead of them-a sleek, elegant marker for an upscale establishment.

A pang of worry settled in Andrew's chest. He was conscious of the restaurant's likely cost, even though Richard had insisted on picking up the tab. The idea of spending so much on a meal-especially when he thought of how tight things had been during his own childhood-made him uneasy. He had worked hard to avoid putting his family in similar financial straits.

As these thoughts churned in his mind, Andrew was jolted back to the present by Julie's voice. He realized he'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't been fully listening to her.

"Right... Yes," he murmured, trying to collect his thoughts. "You and Jordan go ahead and meet Richard inside. I'll check in with Timothy and make sure everything's going smoothly on his end."

Andrew knew his friend Timothy had sent him a text, and there had been a call from Richard earlier about their plan to meet at the Seabird. The mention of the restaurant's name made Andrew's eyes widen slightly as he remembered the high prices on the menu. But once again, Richard had assured him he would cover the bill.

Julie nodded, clearly satisfied with the plan. "Alright, we'll be inside waiting for you," she said, leaning over to kiss Andrew before getting out of the car.

They shared a brief, tender kiss before Julie turned toward the back seat and raised her voice to wake their son.

"Jordan! Come on, buddy, time to wake up! We're here!" she called out.

Slowly, Jordan's eyes fluttered open at the sound of his mother's voice, his groggy expression softening as he began to wake.

"Are we finally at the beach?!" Jordan exclaimed, excitement bubbling in his voice as he flung open the car door, not bothering to check his surroundings.

Julie reacted quickly, stopping the door just in time to avoid hitting another car.

"Hey! Watch what you're doing, son!" she scolded, narrowing her eyes to make sure he understood the seriousness of her tone.

Jordan didn't seem particularly concerned by his mother's words. However, he did pause, then turned toward her, offering a sheepish response.

"Sorry, Mom! But... hey, where are we? This doesn't look like the beach!" he said, his gaze shifting to the parking lot as he climbed out of the car.

By this time, Julie had already exited the car and was gently taking hold of her son's arm, guiding him toward the front of the restaurant.

"Your dad's friend, Richard, is treating us to something special for lunch," Julie explained, doing her best to maintain a calm and cheerful demeanor for Jordan's sake.

Jordan, however, didn't seem particularly moved by his mother's attempt at enthusiasm. He shook his head in frustration as he muttered under his breath.

"Aw, come on! This place looks stupid! Why can't we just go to McDonald's? I don't want to sit here forever... I want to go to the beach!" he whined, clearly unhappy with the change in plans.

Julie, however, remained unfazed, keeping her focus on getting to the restaurant entrance. She ignored the curious glances of passing strangers and kept walking, as though her son's protests didn't even register.

"This place is ten times more expensive than McDonald's, and I promise you, a hundred times better. When you're finished with your meal, you'll be glad you came with us," she said firmly, casting a pointed glance at Jordan, her eyes narrowing to make sure he understood there would be no more complaints.

Meanwhile, Andrew was still in the car, oblivious to the fact that his wife and son had already gone inside. His attention was consumed by his phone as he scrolled through messages.

One from Timothy caught his eye, and he began reading it aloud to himself.

"We're going to be a bit further behind. Traffic's been a real pain today. Be there in about 30 minutes. You guys go ahead and grab the table!" the message read.

As he finished reading, it dawned on Andrew that Richard was likely waiting for him. Timothy's response in the group chat had been accompanied by a thumbs-up emoji.

Before he could fully process that thought, a knock on his window startled him.

"Hey, Andrew! Saw your car! You ready to get this vacation started?" Richard's muffled voice came from outside.

Andrew barely caught the words but quickly gathered himself and opened the car door. The sound of the door locking behind him as he stepped out startled him for a moment.

"Hey, Dick... Yep, sure am! Let's hope it's a good one!" he replied with a smile, glancing toward the restaurant.

Richard didn't seem to be paying much attention to Andrew, his eyes focused on his phone. At the same time, Andrew's phone buzzed with a new message from the group chat.

As he looked at the message, he read aloud:

"That's okay! Reserved a table for four... We'll be inside waiting for you! Plenty of time and things to do today!" it said.

Richard, though, looked down at his watch, noting that the time read 11:47. Everything was fine, even if a little later than he had planned. He was confident that starting the day with a meal at such a nice restaurant would set the tone for the rest of the family's vacation.

After a few moments of silence, Richard finally slipped his phone into his pocket and turned to Andrew.

"All right, let's go ahead and head inside then! You decided not to bring your wife and son?" he asked, glancing around for them.

He looked around, but there was no sign of them heading toward the front of the restaurant. After a few moments, Andrew spoke up.

"No... I did. I thought you were already inside... I let them go ahead without me," he said, almost sheepishly.

Richard raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. He might not have done the same if he had a wife and son, even knowing that this was a safe area and a reputable restaurant. It was moments like this that reminded him why he hadn't pursued the whole family life thing. Perhaps that was exactly why he hadn't settled down with a wife and kids in the first place.

As Richard and Andrew approached the front door of the restaurant, a man near the entrance-just like the one at the hotel-opened the door for them.

Richard gave the man a brief nod and a smile as he walked inside, Andrew following close behind.

"Thank you, good sir!" Richard said cheerfully, though the man didn't seem to acknowledge him. He remained as still as a statue, his eyes fixed straight ahead, ignoring Richard entirely.

Richard's smile faltered slightly as the silence stretched. "Alright then, pal..." he muttered under his breath, trying not to dwell on the uncomfortable interaction.

Both men's attention shifted to the front of the restaurant, where they overheard an irate voice.

"Sir! I promise you, we have a reservation! My husband's name is Andrew Edwards!" Julie's voice rang out, her frustration clear.

She had a tight grip on Jordan's arm, and the boy, uncomfortable both physically and mentally, glanced around nervously. The scene was drawing unwanted attention, and Julie's outburst only seemed to make it worse.

"Calm down, Karen!" a teenage boy called out from a nearby table, clearly trying to make light of the situation.

Julie, oblivious to the insult, ignored him completely.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't see that name in our system," the host said apologetically. "You'll have to wait your turn."

Julie, clearly losing patience, huffed but finally relented, turning toward the entrance to head back outside.

At that moment, she spotted Andrew and Richard walking in. Andrew's face immediately shifted to concern as he saw the tail end of the scene unfold.

"Hey, what the hell's going on here?" Andrew asked, his tone a mix of confusion and frustration.

The young host, startled by Andrew's sudden appearance, recoiled slightly. He was a smaller Hispanic man, clearly intimidated by the much larger Andrew.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. Your wife said you had a reservation, but I just didn't see your name on the list," he stammered, nervously glancing at Julie and Jordan. It was clear they were together, based on their appearance and the tension that still hung in the air.

Richard stepped forward, a calm presence in the chaos. "That would be under my name-Richard Atkins. Sorry for the trouble," he said, offering an apologetic smile.

The host's face relaxed slightly, though he still appeared embarrassed. "Ah, yes! A table for eight! Follow me, please. Sorry for the inconvenience," he said, his cheeks reddening as he motioned for them to follow him.

As the group made their way to the table, the young man kept his eyes trained on the floor, doing his best not to make eye contact with Julie or Jordan. He set the menus down in front of them, along with utensils and napkins, his voice shaky as he addressed the table.

"If you'd like drinks, just let me know, and I'll be back in a minute," he said, still visibly nervous. Although he'd worked in several restaurants before, this was a different caliber of establishment, and the stakes felt much higher.

Richard smiled and leaned back in his chair. "I'll have a tequila!" he said, winking playfully at Julie, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

Julie stiffened, clearly uncomfortable with the gesture. She turned her gaze away, trying to ignore Richard's flirtatious tone. Andrew, meanwhile, hadn't noticed the subtle exchange and addressed the waiter directly.

"I'll just have a water, thanks," he said simply, not feeling like indulging in anything sugary or alcoholic.

Julie, who had been silently fuming, chimed in, "Water for me too, please."

The waiter nodded and scribbled down their orders before turning to Jordan, his voice wavering slightly as he looked at the young boy.

"And what would you like to drink, young man?" the waiter asked, his pen poised over his notepad.

Jordan grinned mischievously. "Uh... what is this thing? Dass eckis?" he asked, his eyes glinting with the knowledge that he was likely pushing the waiter's buttons.

The waiter blinked, not immediately understanding the question. "You mean Dos Equis?" he asked, confused.

"Yeah, that thing!" Jordan replied with a smirk, clearly enjoying the awkward moment. He glanced up at the waiter and then at his parents, waiting for their reactions.

Andrew, finally noticing what his son was doing, sighed. "Don't pay him any attention," he said to the waiter. "He's just trying to mess with you. Spoiled little bugger, that one."

The waiter, now even more flustered, quickly scribbled down the drink orders and hurried away from the table, eager to escape the awkward exchange.

"Wait... we do have four more people coming! I don't know exactly when they'll get here, though. So don't get too ahead of yourself!" Richard reminded the young server, gesturing to the table that had been reserved for eight.

The server paused mid-stride, momentarily recalling the arrangement. He caught himself before heading back to his host station. Despite remembering his obligation, he decided not to linger around waiting for the remaining party. Instead, he nodded politely at Richard before turning to assist the next family waiting to be seated.

"Well... looks like your son has quite a sense of humor," Richard remarked, chuckling as he nodded toward Andrew, clearly complimenting the boy.

Andrew, however, didn't seem amused. Squinting at his son, he responded, "Yeah... he thinks it's hilarious to make fun of other kids at school." His tone was stern, and his gaze didn't waver.

Jordan, embarrassed and flustered by his father's pointed remark, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, lowering his head to avoid their gazes.

Richard, ever the optimist, tried to smooth things over. "Well, he's a sharp kid-an alpha male. I'm sure it's just a phase he'll grow out of." He smiled, attempting to diffuse the tension.

Julie, however, was unimpressed. Rolling her eyes, she turned her attention to a nearby family: an older couple caring for their son, who appeared to have disabilities. She couldn't help but wonder about their lives and the challenges they must face.

Andrew, still visibly irritated, replied, "Yeah... but that doesn't give him the right to pick on other kids. I hope he'll grow out of it."

Sensing the conversation's awkward trajectory, Richard abruptly changed the subject, much to Jordan's relief. The boy, still embarrassed, remained silent, glad to let the topic fade.

"Well... how about it then, Andrew?" Richard said, his tone noticeably more upbeat as he addressed his friend.

Andrew tilted his head in confusion. "How about what, exactly?" he asked, slightly apprehensive though he knew nothing serious was coming. At least, that's what he believed.

Richard grinned. "I mean, look at your life! You're about to get a major promotion, earning more than you ever imagined. You're here on vacation with your wife and son, and everything seems to be going your way. Isn't this what dreams are made of?"

Andrew smiled faintly, momentarily uplifted by Richard's words. "You're right. This is everything a man like me could ever dream of," he admitted, closing his eyes as though savoring the moment.

"Well, it's no dream. This is real," Richard said firmly, though his expression momentarily darkened as his thoughts drifted.

For a fleeting moment, both men seemed lost in their respective contemplations. Richard found his mind returning to the ominous news of a spreading sickness that had cast a shadow over what was meant to be a carefree vacation. Andrew, on the other hand, was simply basking in gratitude for the moment, though a faint unease lingered in his subconscious.

Their reveries were interrupted by the buzz of their phones. Both men instinctively reached for their pockets, half-expecting urgent work notifications. Instead, they found a text from Timothy:

"We're a couple of minutes out now!"

Neither reacted aloud, choosing instead to slip their phones back into their pockets.

Julie, noticing their momentary distraction, decided to shift the focus. "So... do we have any plans after lunch?" she asked, her voice bringing everyone back to the present.

"Beach! Beach! Please!" Jordan exclaimed, bouncing in his seat with childlike enthusiasm. His excitement drew amused glances from nearby diners.

Andrew sighed, visibly annoyed. "We'll go to the beach, Jordan. Relax," he muttered, leaning back in his seat in an attempt to calm his nerves.

Julie chimed in with her own suggestion. "Maybe we could explore some shops across the city? We might find some cool souvenirs to bring home."

Jordan crossed his arms, clearly uninterested. "We can do that when it gets dark. You can't swim in the ocean at night!"

Andrew, exasperated by his son's stubbornness, shot him a stern look. "This is a family trip, Jordan. There are three families here. You don't get to make all the rules."

Jordan, though frustrated, eventually relented. "Fine. As long as we go to the beach."

Julie smiled gently. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm sure Timothy's little boy will want to go too. You can have some fun together."

Jordan smirked at the mention of Timothy's son. He'd met the boy once or twice before and knew they were nothing alike. Still, the thought of a companion for his beach antics intrigued him.

Andrew, however, felt uneasy. "I'm not so sure they'd get along. They're very different personalities," he said cautiously. He recalled Timothy mentioning that his son faced some challenges and didn't want Jordan's mischievous tendencies to escalate into trouble.

Julie began to respond but stopped when Andrew shook his head subtly.

"Well, regardless," Richard interjected, "we're going to have a great time, aren't we?" He smiled warmly at the table, lifting the mood once more.

Jordan, already envisioning his beach escapades, grinned. He loved playing in the sand-especially when it involved mischievous fun like teasing seagulls or toppling other kids' sandcastles.

**************************************

Scene Transition:

"There it is! In all its glory-the famous Seabird!" Timothy declared with a grin as they approached the restaurant.

"The Seabird? Never heard of it. What's so famous about this place?" Allison asked, scrutinizing the building as she walked.

Angela rolled her eyes. "Dad has a habit of hyping things up when they're not that special," she muttered.

"Hey now," Timothy protested. "I'm just trying to keep the family excited! Everything's better when the family is excited."

Ben, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly perked up. "I'm excited! We're going to the beach! I've heard it's the best place in the world!"

But as he scanned his surroundings, he noticed a distinct lack of ocean views or palm trees beyond the two near the restaurant's entrance. Disappointment flickered across his face.

Timothy placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Ben. The beach will come soon enough. Let's grab some lunch first!"

He had chosen to eat lightly at breakfast, saving his appetite for what he anticipated would be a memorable meal by the beach.

"Well, Richard, Andrew, Julie, and their little boy are already waiting for us inside, I'm quite sure of it! So why don't we march right in and join them?" Allison said, her tone lively as she tried to inject energy into her children.

Her enthusiasm was contagious, and Ben and Angela couldn't help but smile, despite their earlier squabbles.

They made their way to the front of the restaurant, where the same stoic doorman stood, his posture stiff and professional. He opened the door for them, just as he had for Andrew and Richard earlier, without so much as a flicker of acknowledgment.

Timothy and Allison, preoccupied with keeping their children in line, barely noticed the doorman's impassive demeanor. Approaching the host's podium, they found the same young man who had greeted the earlier group. This time, however, he appeared more composed.

"Hello, sir and ma'am. Would you like to book a table? The current wait time is approximately an hour," he said, gesturing toward a nearby display that confirmed his estimate.

"Actually, no! We already have a reservation," Timothy replied, his voice confident but friendly.

The young host's eyes widened slightly, his mind quickly connecting the dots. Based on their number and attire, he realized this was the second part of the group he'd seated earlier.

"Would that reservation be under Richard Atkins?" he asked before Timothy could elaborate.

Timothy was momentarily taken aback by the boy's efficiency, though not entirely surprised given Richard's reputation for organization. He nodded. "Yes, that would be correct."

"Wonderful. Follow me, and I'll escort you to your table," the host replied, his demeanor professional yet polite.

As the family trailed behind the host, Ben and Angela fell into their usual dynamic.

"Let's have a sandcastle competition when we get to the beach, Angela!" Ben exclaimed, his excitement bubbling over.

Angela, glued to her phone, barely spared him a glance. "Uh, sounds boring. Maybe you can do that with Jordan instead. It'd be good for you to make a friend closer to your age anyway," she said dismissively.

Ben frowned, clearly unenthused by the idea. "You mean Dad's friend's son?"

"Yeah," Angela replied nonchalantly, still focused on her screen. "He's six, and you're turning five tomorrow. I bet you two would get along just fine."

Ben's expression darkened. "No way! That guy's a bully, Angela. I've heard about him from the kids at the YMCA. He's mean."

Angela smirked, finding her brother's indignation mildly amusing. Though she loved Ben, part of her thought he might benefit from learning to stand up for himself.

"Well, you'll survive," she said, her tone teasing.

Deep down, however, she hoped Ben wouldn't have to deal with Jordan's behavior. She knew her little brother's gentle nature wasn't suited to handling someone like that, and the idea made her stomach twist slightly.

As the family arrived at the table, Timothy greeted Richard with a broad grin. "Well, here we are! Hope you didn't start without us."

Richard chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast. "You're just in time. We were beginning to think you got lost!"

Timothy clapped him on the shoulder as everyone began settling into their seats. The restaurant buzzed with energy, but their table seemed to stand out-a mixture of old friendships, new introductions, and the promise of an eventful day ahead.

"Alright, I'll get drinks for you four, and you other four! Do you have your meals ready?" asked the young waiter, lifting his notepad with a practiced smile.

Richard, already certain of his choice, stepped forward confidently.

"Yes, for the entrée, I'll have the smoked North Carolina catfish. For the side, I'll take the local field greens," he stated matter-of-factly, his tone calm and deliberate.

Richard was mindful of his diet, determined to avoid unnecessary calories.

Jordan, however, had other plans. While he didn't know what he wanted, he knew exactly how to stir the pot.

"I'll have the Brasstown beef short rib! That's all, thank you," Jordan declared, chin held high as he attempted to sound as refined as possible.

The young waiter's eyes widened at the request. He glanced hesitantly at the man he assumed to be Jordan's father for confirmation.

"You want two entrées?" the waiter asked, visibly confused, not catching on to Jordan's mischief.

Andrew, still poring over the menu, finally realized what his son had done. Jordan had intentionally ordered the most expensive item, knowing full well that Richard had generously offered to foot the bill.

Richard, unbothered by the antics, remained calm. However, Jordan's parents were visibly unimpressed.

"He'll share from his mother's and my plates," Julie interjected sharply, her eyes narrowing at her son. "He doesn't need anything else, thank you."

The young waiter, still slightly flustered, quickly resumed taking the remaining orders. The rest of the meal planning proceeded without further incident.

**************************************

Later, the families gathered by their cars, attempting to determine their next move.

"Well," Richard began, addressing the group, "we've got about seven hours before supper is served at the Hotel Ballast. Afterward, I'd like to meet with the men in my room for a discussion."

His gaze rested briefly on the fathers, who exchanged knowing glances. Andrew, feeling a vague unease about the situation, nodded reluctantly. Timothy, on the other hand, seemed more enthusiastic, his demeanor one of quiet excitement.

Timothy wasn't thrilled about the vacation for family bonding. He was eager for what lay beyond-a pivotal moment he had long been anticipating.

"Ooooh! Are they in trouble?" Ben asked, his voice tinged with concern as he looked up at his father.

Ben admired his father deeply. To him, Andrew was a constant source of guidance and care, alongside his mother.

"No, not at all," Richard replied with a reassuring smile. "I'm just walking them through the basics and preparing them for what's coming next week."

A flicker of uncertainty passed through Richard's expression. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely sure there would even be a next week for either family. Yet, this was his life-living moment to moment, rarely stopping to catch his breath.

"Yes, and I promise you, Andrew and your father will be just fine," Julie added, addressing Ben with forced cheer.

Allison, however, bristled at another adult speaking so directly to her son. Ben, also uncomfortable, gave a curt nod before looking away from Julie.

Angela, sensing the lull in conversation, decided to break it.

"Why are we just standing here, wasting time? Why aren't we at the beach yet?"

Timothy shot her a stern glance. "We need to make sure everything is in order first," he replied, his tone firm.

Angela frowned, visibly irritated. "We're not doing anything right now! What's there to get in order?" she countered, her voice rising in frustration.

The adults, engrossed in their own thoughts, largely ignored her outburst, which only added to her annoyance. With an exasperated sigh, she crossed her arms and glared at the ground.

Finally, Richard decided to intervene, his voice cutting through the tension like a balm.

"Alright, tomorrow's going to be a special surprise for everyone! Let's head back to the hotel, drop off our things, and then we can hit the beach, just like Angela wants," he said with a warm smile, nodding toward the girl.

Angela perked up slightly, though she noted he didn't actually know her name. She decided to let it slide, content for now with the prospect of the beach.

**************************************

They were all dressed and ready for the beach, the salty air filling their lungs as the rhythmic crash of waves beckoned them forward. Allison stood for a moment, gazing out at the vast expanse of ocean. The sight stirred memories of her childhood near the Gulf of Mexico-warm days spent by the water with her little brother and their mother.

Her thoughts drifted to her father, a man whose absence had shaped much of her early life. Trouble with the law had sent him to prison, and after that, he had disappeared from their lives entirely. For all she knew, he might be dead-or perhaps thriving elsewhere with a new family. But Allison didn't care. She had no real memories of him, only the lingering shadow of his choices.

What she did cherish were the good times: her mother's laughter, her brother's mischievous grin, and the carefree days they shared by the water. Those were the moments she held onto, even as her relationship with her brother faded over the years. He had distanced himself from their mother and from Allison, severing ties as though they were strangers.

None of it mattered right now. The warm sand beneath her feet and the thought of dipping her toes into the cool ocean water was all that occupied her mind. She closed her eyes, letting the breeze carry her back to those golden days.

"Alright!" Richard's voice broke through her reverie. "I'm heading to the pier. Just going to take in the view. You all can do whatever you like."

Richard didn't wait for a response. Though this public beach was a far cry from the private ones he frequented, the ocean was the ocean. He loved the water, the salty air, and the steady breeze that seemed to carry away his worries.

As he began walking toward the docks, Allison spoke up, her voice uncharacteristically eager.

"I'd like to go to the pier with you!" she called out, surprising even herself. "Do you have any bait for fishing?" A bright smile lit her face, a rare glimpse of the girl who had once spent hours by the Gulf.

The family turned to her in surprise. Allison rarely mentioned her past, except for the occasional story from her high school days with Timothy.

"Uh... not at the moment, ma'am," Richard replied, tipping his head slightly. "But I can grab some from that shop over there if you'd like." He gestured toward a nearby beach store that likely sold fishing gear.

Allison shook her head, waving off the offer. "No, no need to spend money just for some bait," she said, her tone casual yet sincere.

Richard chuckled softly. "Money's never been an issue for me, and I don't expect it to be anytime soon. You'll understand that soon enough." He nodded meaningfully toward Timothy, his words carrying a cryptic weight.

Timothy gave a slight nod in return, a trace of reassurance easing across his face.

"Well, if you'd like to join Richard at the pier, honey, go ahead," Timothy said warmly. "I'll take the kids to the beach. You deserve a break."

Allison looked at him, gratitude softening her expression. She rarely took time for herself, always wrapped up in the endless tasks of parenting. A small escape felt like a gift.

"Thank you, Timothy. I think I'll do just that. Take good care of our kids!" she said with a smile before turning to follow Richard toward the pier.

As she walked away, Timothy turned his attention back to the rest of the group. Andrew was already at the beach with Julie and their son, enjoying the sun and surf. Timothy decided not to linger and began making his way after them.

Angela trailed close behind, her voice carrying over the sound of the waves.

"Dad, I can take care of myself, you know! I'm almost in middle school!" she declared, her grin wide and proud.

Timothy chuckled, shaking his head at her enthusiasm. He knew she was growing up fast, but to him, she was still his little girl.

Timothy knew he would do anything to protect Angela, but he also understood that she needed room to grow and develop her own independence. He sighed, nodding his head toward her before speaking.

"Yes, I know. But you’ll always be my little girl. That’s something that’ll never change. Someday, when you have kids of your own, you’ll understand."

Angela’s face lit up with excitement. "Oh! Me and Evan are going to have lots of kids! I think I’ll name my first one Eduardo, to honor Mom’s heritage!" she said, holding her head high with pride.

Timothy chuckled softly, his knowledge of history and names prompting him to gently interject. "Well, Eduardo is a Spanish name, not exactly a Mexican one. Spain invaded Mexico and South America for land."

Angela’s enthusiasm faltered for a moment, her expression turning slightly sour at his correction. However, she quickly shrugged it off, tossing her bag onto the sand and slipping off her flip-flops. Without another word, she took off toward the shoreline, the ocean breeze catching her hair as she ran.

The beach was surprisingly quiet, with only a handful of visitors scattered across the sand. It was unusual for a public beach to be this empty, but no one in the group seemed to question it. They were too focused on enjoying the moment.

Angela’s laughter rang out as she splashed into the shallow waves, but her energetic sprint didn’t go unnoticed.

"Hey! Watch it! You’re going to kick sand all over me!" Jordan complained, scowling as Angela raced past him.

"Relax, Jordan," Andrew said, shaking his head. "Why don’t you go enjoy the water too? Have some fun for once." He gestured toward the sparkling waves.

Jordan glanced at the water with visible disinterest before scanning the beach for other kids to play with. To his disappointment, most of the visitors were elderly couples enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

"I think I’m good," Jordan muttered before turning toward his mother. "Mom, can I play on your phone?" He reached for the unmistakable bulge in her pocket.

Julie sighed, placing towels and bags on the sand. "No, Jordan. You’ve had plenty of time on my phone this morning. You need to find something else to entertain yourself."

"But it’s not the morning anymore!" Jordan protested, his voice tinged with frustration.

Julie ignored his complaint, busy unpacking their beach supplies. Her dismissal only made Jordan sulk further, crossing his arms as he pouted.

Andrew and Julie exchanged a knowing look, choosing not to react to their son’s behavior. They were used to his melodramatic tendencies.

"This really is a perfect day, isn’t it?" Andrew said, leaning closer to Julie. "I love you so much."

Julie smiled warmly at her husband, her mood buoyed by the serene surroundings. As Andrew leaned in, their lips met in a lingering kiss, a small but tender moment between them.

Jordan, watching from the sidelines, grimaced in exaggerated disgust. "Yuck! That’s gross!" he exclaimed, turning his back on his parents and making a gagging noise.

Andrew and Julie paid him no mind, too absorbed in their quiet moment together. Meanwhile, Jordan continued to sulk, muttering to himself about how boring the beach was without his mom’s phone.

**************************************

Allison gazed out at the rolling waves, her thoughts adrift with the tide. The ocean stretched endlessly before her, its rhythmic crashing both soothing and grounding. It was a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos of the world—chaos that, as far as she knew, only Richard fully understood.

Richard stood a few feet away, his hands resting on the railing of the pier. His eyes scanned the horizon, a faint smile playing on his lips. The tranquility of the scene wasn’t lost on him, though his mind was seldom at rest. Normally, Richard despised idle moments, viewing them as wasted opportunities. Yet, here and now, with a woman he barely knew, this felt... different.

There was an unspoken connection in the air, a kind of energy that tied him to Allison in a way he couldn’t quite explain. But Richard wasn’t one to dwell on feelings. He respected Timothy, her husband, too much to entertain such thoughts, and he prided himself on his discipline. Still, for reasons he couldn’t articulate, this didn’t feel like a misuse of time.

"So calm, isn’t it?" Richard said, his voice softer than usual, as if not to disturb the serenity. He turned his head slightly to glance at Allison.

Allison remained focused on the waves, her gaze steady and unwavering. When she noticed him looking, she finally turned to meet his eyes, her lips curving into a faint smile.

"It really is," she replied, her tone wistful. "It reminds me of when I was younger... when life was simpler. Everything just felt easier back then." Her voice trailed off, her thoughts drifting into a sea of memories.

The good ones came first—moments of laughter, freedom, and innocence. Yet, even then, she’d struggled with anxiety and stress, albeit nothing compared to the challenges adulthood had brought. She often wished her daughter, Angela, could grasp how fleeting childhood truly was.

"I grew up in Colorado," Richard offered, breaking the silence. "In a small city just outside Denver. The mountains were stunning, always felt like they were watching over you. But the beach... the beach has a different kind of magic."

Allison turned fully toward him, her eyes widening slightly. She studied his face as if searching for some deeper truth. "Mountains are beautiful, sure," she said, her voice thoughtful. "But they can feel... confining. Like you’re trapped, surrounded on all sides. The ocean, though..." Her voice faded as her gaze shifted back to the horizon, her words replaced by a contented sigh.

Richard followed her eyes, the expanse of blue seeming to reflect endless possibilities. "I get that," he said, nodding. "That’s why I moved here. The ocean... it feels open, limitless. A place where you can breathe."

The waves lapped against the pier, their gentle rhythm mirroring the thoughts swirling in his mind. Richard had always been a man of ambition, driven by his dreams and the belief that nothing was beyond his reach. Yet moments like this made him pause. He tilted his head back, his eyes tracing the clouds drifting lazily across the sky.

"If there’s a God watching over me," he murmured under his breath, so softly he doubted Allison could hear, "I don’t know why you’ve made life this good, but... thank you."

The two fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The cries of distant seagulls and the steady crash of waves against the shore filled the quiet between them. It was a moment of serenity, rare and fragile, as if the world had paused just for them.

**************************************

"That's far enough, Angela!" Timothy's voice carried firmly over the sound of the waves, his eyes sharp as they tracked both his daughter and his son.

Angela spun around, frustration flickering across her face. "I'm barely knee-deep, Dad! I'm fine!" she shouted back, the edge in her tone betraying her annoyance.

She had secrets she kept from her father—more than she'd care to admit. While she confided in her mother from time to time, the closeness she probably should have shared with her father simply wasn’t there.

Timothy folded his arms and nodded toward a figure splashing nearby. "It’s not you I’m worried about, Angela."

Her gaze followed his direction until she spotted Ben about 25 feet away, wobbling against the mild waves. For Angela, the water only reached her knees, but for her four-year-old brother, it was dangerously high. His small frame struggled to stay steady as the tide gently pushed at him.

"Ben!" Angela’s voice rose in alarm. "What are you doing out here? You shouldn't be this far in!" Panic seeped into her words as guilt weighed on her—she hadn’t even noticed he was following her.

Ben’s wide eyes met hers, his small fists clutching at nothing but determination. "I wanted to play in the water with you," he said, his voice tinged with sadness. "We used to play all the time—with my Hot Wheels and your Barbies. I miss that."

Angela softened, but only slightly. She wasn’t sure how to handle the sudden sentimentality. "Ben, I’m eleven, and you’re four," she said with a sigh. "I’m taller, stronger, and this water is fine for me—not for you. Just give me some time to myself, okay?"

Ben clenched his little fists, hurt flashing across his face. "I’m only four for a few more hours!" he snapped, reminding her that his birthday was the next day.

Before Angela could respond, Timothy waded into the shallow water. His shirt was now off, revealing a toned chest that Angela instinctively found gross. She scrunched her nose and looked away as he approached.

"Well, technically," Timothy said, grinning, "you’ll still be four for over a day. You were born late in the evening, remember?"

Ben blinked, surprised by the revelation, but his determination didn’t waver. He stomped his foot in the water, splashing both his father and sister. "I just want to play in the water! Why can’t I be part of the family?"

Timothy knelt and gently grabbed Ben's shoulders, steadying him as a small wave threatened to topple him. "You are part of the family, Ben," he said warmly. "And we’re going to play in the water. Just not this deep. How about you and I stick to the shallows for now?"

Ben hesitated but eventually nodded, the hurt fading from his eyes. "Okay, but I wanted to play with Angela," he mumbled, his pout still lingering.

Timothy chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair. "Angela might need to get out of the water soon anyway," he teased, glancing over at his daughter with a knowing grin.

Angela’s brow furrowed as she crossed her arms. "Why would I need to get out? Did I do something wrong?"

Ben perked up at the suggestion. "Are you grounding her?!" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Timothy rolled his eyes but chuckled at his son’s enthusiasm. "No, nothing like that," he said, then turned to Angela. "But someone’s been calling you non-stop for the past few minutes. It's driving me crazy."

Angela blinked, confused. "Calling me?"

Timothy nodded toward the beach towels spread out on the sand. "Your phone’s been going off like crazy. I know how much you love your little Evan, so I figured you’d want to check."

The mention of her boyfriend jolted Angela. She had barely heard from Evan since yesterday morning, and his sudden barrage of calls felt strange—either something had gone terribly wrong or something important had happened.

Her curiosity and concern took over. She shot her father a quick nod, already heading back to the towels. "Thanks, Dad! I’ll go check!"

As Angela hurried away, her mind raced with possibilities, hoping that whatever awaited her was good news rather than bad.

Here’s a refined and enhanced version of your scene, improving pacing, grammar, and emotional tone:

---

"Alright, Evan... What's going on?" Angela muttered under her breath, quickening her steps toward the towels as the persistent ringing of her phone grew louder.

Reaching the bundle of towels, her screen lit up again, flashing Evan’s name. Seven missed calls in the past ten minutes. Her boyfriend was nothing if not persistent—but this? This wasn’t normal. Usually, he’d give up after the second try.

Her stomach churned with worry as she snatched the phone, pressing the green button to accept the call. "Evan? Is everything okay—"

She didn’t get to finish. Evan’s voice burst through the line, ragged and hysterical, a mix of crying and screaming that sent a chill down her spine.

"I’m sorry, Angela... I’m so sorry..." he stammered, his words disjointed, cracking under the weight of whatever had happened.

Angela froze, her heart pounding in her chest. Her mind raced to the worst conclusions. Had he cheated? Was he breaking up with her? She shoved the thoughts aside, trying to steady her voice as she responded.

"What? Evan, slow down! What’s going on? Are you okay? What did you do?"

There was a pause on his end, followed by a loud crash. The sound of something heavy—maybe a fist—slamming into a table made her wince. She could feel his chaos through the phone, the suffocating weight of whatever he was dealing with.

Then, his voice came again, lower, more guttural. "My dad came home... Angela, our mom—" His voice cracked. "Our mom is dead."

The words hit Angela like a punch to the gut. She staggered back, gripping the phone tightly. "Your mother... dead?" she whispered, barely able to process it. "Oh my God, Evan! How? Are you serious?"

Evan didn’t respond right away, and when he did, his voice was raw with anger and pain. "Yes! Some psycho at the hospital... He tore her to pieces. My dad couldn’t even bring himself to see her body." His words came out in a rush, trembling with rage and despair. "I don’t know what’s going on... I don’t know what to do."

Angela bit her lip, trying to steady herself, to find something—anything—to say that could bring him comfort. "Evan... I’m so sorry. I—I can’t even imagine. Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out together. I promise, okay?" Her voice wavered as she spoke, a frantic edge creeping in. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself, but her panic was hard to hide.

Evan didn’t seem comforted. His voice turned bitter, tinged with resignation. "No. No, we won’t. My dad said I shouldn’t talk to you again... that I wouldn’t see you. Ever."

Angela’s heart sank further. "What? Why would he say that? Evan, I promise you—no matter what—I'll always be here for you."

But Evan’s focus had already drifted. "Dad!" he shouted suddenly, his voice cutting through the line. "I’m hungry!"

The call ended abruptly, leaving Angela staring at her phone in stunned silence.

**************************************

Evan stood in the kitchen, the phone still clutched in his hand as he glared at his father. His stomach growled loudly, an ache that cereal hadn’t been able to ease.

"Evan," his father sighed, turning from the counter. "You just ate two bowls of cereal. How can you still be hungry?"

Evan slammed his hand on the table, the sound sharp and jarring. "It’s not enough!" he snapped, his eyes narrowing. "I don’t want cereal, Dad. I need something else!"

His father frowned, taken aback by his son’s sudden aggression. "Honey Nut Cheerios used to be your favorite," he said, his voice carefully measured.

"Not anymore," Evan growled, his tone eerily cold. "We’ve got a whole farm, Dad. I’m sure we can spare one of the cows."

The comment sent a chill through his father. He stared at Evan, unsure if his son was joking. "Very funny, Evan," he said with a forced chuckle. "I’ll figure something out. We’re not going hungry anytime soon."

But Evan wasn’t laughing. His face was pale, his expression blank—almost inhuman. His eyes glinted with something dark, something feral. "Good," he said quietly, his voice dripping with menace. "Because if we don’t, I’ll find my own food."

Unbeknownst to his father, Evan had been bitten two days earlier by a child at the town parade. The strange mark on his arm hadn’t seemed like much at first. But now, as hunger clawed at him from the inside, Evan could feel something changing—something dark and insatiable rising within him.