The salty sea air filled my nose. I looked down at my hands, illuminated by the fading sun. Unpolished fingers, clipped short with a square shaped art deco style engagement ring on my left hand. I look at it quizzically then surveyed the rest of my outfit. A crisp white v neck tee shirt and black Costco leggings. “No, no, no, no,” I screamed as I began to pound my hands on the manhole cover. Dad squatted down next to me, quietly shushing me as I was scaring a family walking back from the beach. I looked up at him with tears in my eyes as he pulled me into a hug.“I know it’s hard, sweetie, but 16 years is a long time and we needed to put mom to rest,” he said gently. I looked over his shoulder and at the giant beach house before me, where the Broadfoot Cottage had once stood. The faint squeak of a wheelchair turned my attention to the street, where a young man was wheeling an ancient woman on the sidewalk. “Did you run, child,” she asked. I looked at her, bewildered. “That poor wom