THE TIDE AT CAPE PERKINS

The sun over Cape Perkins, North Carolina, poured white-hot across the undulating oat-grass dunes, casting long, sharp shadows across the wide cedar porch of the coastal home. Through the open French double doors, the ocean breeze brought the briny tang of the Atlantic along with the thumping bass of an unauthorized party.

Victoria Vance stood framed in the open entryway. She was fifty-three, her shoulder-length brunette hair styled with crisp golden highlights. She wore an unwrinkled, tailored beige linen pantsuit that held its form despite five hours of travel from Raleigh. In her right hand, she held the telescoping handle of a brushed-aluminum rolling suitcase.

Her gaze swept over the sunlit living room. Red plastic cups littered the reclaimed driftwood coffee table, wet beach towels hung over the custom white oak stair banister, and thirty twenty-somethings in swimwear stood frozen mid-laugh, holding frosted margarita glasses.

Robert Vance, twenty-two, froze by the kitchen island, his face draining of color. He wore a light blue button-up shirt and cream linen shorts, clutching a bottle of expensive tequila he had taken from his mother’s locked cellar.

""I didn't realize I needed permission to enter my own house,"" Victoria said. Her voice was not raised in a screech; it had the calm, immovable authority of a lighthouse beacon.

Robert stammered, hurrying across the floorboards to intercept her before she could see the state of the back terrace. ""Mom, can we please talk outside?""

Victoria did not budge. She raised both hands, took off her dark designer sunglasses, and folded the frames with a soft, deliberate *click*.

""Anything allowed inside my house can be discussed inside my house.""

From the bar counter, Robert’s girlfriend, Chloe, stepped forward. She was twenty-one, her blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, wearing a light-blue floral sundress. She held a martini glass garnished with a lime wheel, crossing one arm over her chest in defensive defiance.

""Robert told me this place was ours to use for the entire summer,"" Chloe said, tossing her chin up. ""We have twenty guests flying in from New York tomorrow for his birthday festival.""

Victoria slowly turned her eyes from the girl to her son. Her expression remained perfectly smooth, yet her gaze cut straight through Robert’s manufactured bravado.