She walked down the steps to the newly expanded beach,
a result of sand being transplanted from the channel
to make room for commerce by a huge snake spewing forth
in hiccups a sand and water mixture with some debris

like glass bottles, plastic, plastic, plastic mixed in
to mar the pristine expansion into the inland sea. His
children were at the water’s edge on that peninsula
sticking out into the water when she plunked herself

down inches away from the family. His wife joined the
family and later he did, too. His son and daughter-in-
law wondered why the woman had settled into her beach
chair only inches away from the family, book in hand,

big brimmed bonnet on her head. It seemed strange on
such a newly expanded beach with room for all, odd —
like invading peoples’ comfort zone and privacy in
a place people really want to be comfortable. There

had been some controversy in the association over
who had beach privilege and the man and his wife
thought that the woman, the president of the ass-
ociation, who didn’t know the extended family visit-

ing from Colorado, might be on beach patrol, a spy
mission to ferret out interlopers. She sat in stony
silence reading her book. The man saw the bandage
wrapped around her foot. He saw an opportunity to

break the ice on a warm summer’s afternoon. “Hi there.
What happened to your foot?” “Oh, nothing really. Just
an aggravation.” “Yes, nothing fatal but ever so bother-
some. Best wishes with that. Oh, and watch out for the

debris. Some of it may be sharp.” He walked back to
the family, which had moved a few feet down the newly
expanded beach. He mumbled something he had heard
recently, “Where surf meets sand, you’ll find a lawyer.”