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El hopped down the stairs.
"Gran, I'm going out," she said, landing on the floor before striding towards the living room. Her grandmother was seated on the little sofa by the edge of the window, a book perched on her lap.
Eleanor leaned down and kissed her forehead.
Her grandmother looked up, startled. "You're not going to work again, are you?"
The weight of El's tote bag felt ten times heavier. "Maybe."
"Ellie." Only her grandparents called her that. She inched closer to gently grip the young girl's shoulder. "I admire your dedication but — "
"It's for the Championships," she blurted, starting to ramble. "You know it's a big deal for the shack, right? I need to make sure everything is perfect. And it has to be. Please, Gran, you know it's important."
The elderly woman pursed her lips, full of concern on her face. But she did hear the desperation in her granddaughter's tone.
"Alright," she finally said.
El squeezed her hand. "Don't worry about me, okay? I got this."
For a second it looked like her grandmother was going to say something else, but whatever she had thought, she decided against it and returned the latter's smile. It was one of her own bright ones, the type that made her whole face glow and her eyes crinkle in the corners.
El always knew she inherited her smile from her.
***
Bond Beach never had dull days. Sand castles, girls cladded in bikinis, guys in board shorts, volleyballs in the air. The laughter of little kids, whistles of attentive lifeguards and bells on buoys out in the water — at this point, she was immune to it all. She welcomed the noise, the chaos a form of her calm.
This was tradition. This was home.
"Damn it, it's so hot today," Jeff groaned, wiping his forehead.
