No one knew who had donated the picnic tables to Tin Can Beach or paid to have it cleaned up, but everyone who lived in Saint John agreed it was a good thing. It was an early afternoon in July, and the cool breeze riding the incoming tide was a welcome relief to the picnickers—two girls and a boy—who’d claimed the table closest to the water. They unpacked a lunch of fettucine alfredo and pink cupcakes. For some inexplicable reason, they thought it was a good idea to bring a cat to a public beach. The cat was curled up on the bench next to the tall freckled girl, but woke up when they called to it, insisting on a bite of cupcake. Now and then the group was joined by a fuzzy gray squirrel, which not only didn’t mind the cat, but seemed to engage it in a strange, chittering conversation. Uproarious laughter filled the air. Later, you’d swear your mind was playing tricks on you, for five kids left the beach, not three, and the animals had disappeared.