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women—all the important people in Lackawanna County. The number one hundred had been mentioned as an estimated total of guests, and Alex wasn’t sure if anyone was counting, but she must have given out at least twice that many hugs before the night was through.
    Cleanup was part of the package with the caterers (as well as restoration of the lawn trampled by human feet and gazebo floors), so without an ounce of guilt Alex sought the solitude of her childhood bedroom overlooking the quiet, tree-studded front yard, while the party was still in full force in the back. The sheer size of the property and the thickness of the old leaded windows combined with the soothing hum of the air conditioner to create for Alex a sanctuary a world apart from the one she’d escaped.
    After showering, she stretched out in her bed and closed her eyes, thinking about the night. Her mother had been radiant, charming guests with her warm smile and kind words, and her father had entertained everyone with stories and off-color jokes. They were a remarkable couple, still happy after thirty-five years together.
    Her parents were already married when they were her age, and while Alex wasn’t concerned with finding a wife, she found herself envying them—the companionship they shared, the obvious love, the comfortable life. Would she ever have that?
    When she was younger, it was something she’d never thought of. After her diagnosis, it was something she couldn’t think of.
    Uncomfortable with these thoughts and suddenly feeling quite alone, Alex rolled over and pulled her blanket up under her chin, desperately fighting the impulse to call Anke.

Chapter Five
    Crepes and Dates

    The first rays of the morning sun were lending their light to the day as Brit climbed onto her Trek and began pedaling. As she headed north out of Bethany Beach, her view of the sunrise was blocked by the rows of houses to the east of Route One. All manner and size of beach homes had been erected over the years, from cottages that had been handed down through generations of families to multimillion-dollar dwellings housing the summer visitors from Philadelphia and Washington, D.C. She passed a gas station, empty at this early hour, and a twenty-four-hour pharmacy, which was surprisingly busy. The coffee-shop lot was filled.
    How different this place was from Brazil. She hadn’t had long to recover from her service trip before embarking on her family vacation to the beach, and it was still shocking to see the evidence of civilization around her. It didn’t last long.
    After a few miles Brit entered the Delaware Seashore State Park, and the development came to an abrupt halt. Suddenly, nothing obstructed her view of the waves of the Atlantic crashing on the shore except the grass on the dunes. Britain sucked in a breath, not from the effort of her exercise but from the sheer beauty before her. The waves shimmered as the bright rays of morning sun danced on their peaks. She was close enough to see the spray of water as the waves shattered on the beach. Under cover of darkness the ocean had delivered the treasures children would spend their morning discovering—petrified wood, seaweed, human trash, and seashells, broken and chipped and priceless to little seashell hunters.
    She hadn’t encountered much traffic at this hour on a Saturday morning, but her return trip would be more hazardous, as Route One swelled with thousands of cars filled with families heading south to Ocean City. She’d take her time on the way back, stopping at the state park to watch the fishermen and venturing across the road to the bay where she could observe the wind surfers practicing their craft.
    She didn’t usually rise this early, but she was conditioned from six weeks in South America, and lately, opening her eyes in the morning was an easier task. Since coming back home she’d discovered a love of the peace she found when the world was still asleep. It was as if she’d awakened from a coma