July 23, 1932

Four days before the deaths at Morning House

"Something we need to discuss," Phillip Ralston said as lunch was served.

It was another perfect afternoon at Morning House, with the same platters of nut cutlets and mushy peas.

"I want you all to have a choice," he said. "The International Eugenics Conference is going to be in the city next month, on the twenty-second and twenty-third. I'll be going down for it, but I wanted to know if any of you wanted to come along. I think Alexander Graham Bell will be in attendance. It's sure to be fascinating. What do you say? Should we close up the house a bit early to go?"

"It sounds amazing," Unity said.

"I've been reading some G. K. Chesterton," Victory said. "He is against eugenics, and..."

Phillip waved a kind hand. "He's an otherwise decent writer, but eugenics is accepted science and plain good sense. It's up to us to ensure that the human race is healthy and strong, and we do that by good breeding. If you don't stop the unfit from breeding, what will happen?"

"But who determines the unfit? There's an argument that really what this does is target people who are poor, who aren't white, who just don't fit into an arbitrary category."

"Hardly arbitrary," Phillip replied. "But I applaud your intellectual rigor, Victory, as always. Come to the conference. Listen for yourself. I think you'll find it very stimulating. If you want to be a doctor, you'll need to understand eugenics. It is the future of health."

Victory nodded and looked down at her plate, her expression flat.

"And we'd leave here?" William said. "And be back in the city?"

"Yes. We'll return to Fifth Avenue and stay in the city until you return to school. But I don't want to cut your time here short. I know you all love it."

"I think we should go," Clara said quickly. "Back. To the city. For... the event."

"I'm for it," Edward added.

Only Benjamin looked a bit bereft.

"I suppose I could spend a few days at the art museum," he finally said.

"All right, then! We'll leave here on the twentieth. Which means we have to make the best use of our time here."

"Instead of swimming, I was thinking of taking the motorboat out this afternoon," Clara said.

"Boat!" Max shouted. He'd been left out of the eugenics conversation and was playing with his piece of bread, but he'd heard something that interested him.

"You want to go on the boat?" Phillip said. "With your sister?"

"With Victory."

Victory looked up.

"How about it, Victory?" Phillip said. "You, Clara, and Unity, as well. The three girls on the boat."

Faye looked up, brow furrowed. "Phillip, are you sure..."

"It's a good idea," Phillip cut in. "A very good idea. He'll be perfectly safe with the girls. That would leave us men with four for tennis. Edward, William, Benjamin. Tennis for us, boating for the girls. Two o'clock. And for your afternoon studies, Victory, I have an excellent book I want you to read. A new guide to eugenics. I'll get it from my office when we're finished eating."

And so the plan was made.

After lunch and their early afternoon work, the groups separated. The cook prepared a basket for the girls to take with them on the trip. The sky big and blue and bright, with a few puffs of solid white cloud for contrast. Clara took the wheel and sped down the St. Lawrence, past their fellow islanders on their porches or in their boats. They reached a beautiful bit of glassy green water near a rocky shoal.

"Need to take a quick swim," Clara said, stripping off her shirt and revealing her swimsuit underneath. "Back in a second."

"Taking a delivery?" Victory asked.

"There's good fishing here," Clara said with a smile. "Break out the snacks."

She dove off the boat and cut through the water with long, powerful strokes. Within a few minutes, she climbed back on board with a wide grin and something bottle-shaped clearly stashed down the front of her suit.

"Strange fish," Unity said.

"A delicacy," Clara responded with a smile. "What did Elisa send for us today?"

Victory had unpacked their basket on a blanket. Today, along with sugarless graham biscuits, apples, and mint leaf tea, she had sneakily provided sweet lemonade, shortbreads, and blueberry cake. Clara helped herself to the latter, while Unity carefully poured herself a cup of the tea from the flask and took a biscuit.

"You should really try this," Clara said to her, holding out the cake.

"No thanks. That stuff is poison. It's got sugar in it."

"If sugar is so dangerous then how is everyone else alive?"

"There are steps between good health and actually being dead," Unity said primly. She looked to Victory for backup, but she was reaching for a slice of the cake as well.

"It's really good cake," Victory said, shrugging.

"I want cake," Max said.

"You're not supposed to have cake, Max," Unity said. "None of us are supposed to have cake."

"I want it."

Unity looked at her two sisters as if to say, See what you've done?

"I'll tell you had cake! I'll tell you had cake!" Max was now jumping up and down, causing the boat to tack back and forth. "I'll tell Daddy, I'll tell Daddy... give me cake..."

"Max, stop jumping," Victory said, reaching for his waist to hold him still. Max wriggled out of her grasp and climbed up on the side of the boat.

With no warning, Clara reached out and knocked him into the water.

Victory screamed, but Clara held out an arm to keep her from moving. Unity watched, her expression frozen. From the water, Max let out a godawful yelp and flailed.

"Swim, Max!" Clara called. "Swim! Like we showed you. Kick. Kick your legs."

"Clara," Victory screamed. "What are you doing?"

" Kick , Max!"

Without waiting another second, Victory swung herself to the edge of the boat and dropped into the water. Max had drifted a few feet away and was still above the surface but was wailing and starting to sink. Victory scooped him under her arm and guided him to the boat.

"Grab him!" she yelled.

Both Unity and Clara lifted the inconsolable Max into the boat. Victory went to the back, where it was easier to pull herself on board. Clara wrapped a blanket they'd brought with them around his shoulders and tried to soothe him, but he cowered on the floor of the boat and coughed. Victory was a tower of rage. After climbing onto the boat, she went up to Clara, swung her hand back, and brought it down hard on Clara's face.

Clara recoiled from the blow but seemed to take no offense.

"He has to learn how to swim," she said plainly.

"Are you out of your mind ?"

"I wasn't going to let him drown," Clara said. "There's no current here."

"He can't swim," Victory snapped back as she bent down over Max. "And the water here has to be thirty feet deep."

"I was going to get him out, Vic. I was trying to teach him."

"Unity?" Victory said. "Are you hearing this?"

It wasn't clear if Unity was hearing this. Her expression was distant, like she had detached from the scene and floated into the sky like a balloon.

"I think she's right," she said after a moment. "We were all passable swimmers by four."

"By four I could do laps of the lagoon," Clara added.

" Who cares? "

"He's all right," Clara said, bending down and examining Max. Max gazed at her with wide, terrified eyes. She smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "You're all right, Max. I learned by jumping off boats. And I always watch out for you. You're safe with me."

She cupped her hand under his chin and looked him in the eye.

"You can trust me, Max," she said. "I'll always come and get you."

Rage had rendered Victory unable to speak. She took control of the boat and steered it back toward Ralston Island. No one said a word. Max huddled in his blanket, tucked into Unity's arms. Clara turned her sunburned face to the sky.

Victory steered Silver Arrow to the dock and stormed off, leaving someone else to tie her up. Unity was holding Max, who had gone completely silent.

"I'll take him in," she said.

Clara tied up the boat. As she walked back toward the house, she found Victory sitting in one of the little scenic spots along the path, the swan fountain, waiting for her. She took the seat next to her furious sister.

"He has to learn," she said in a low voice, after a moment's silence.

"Not by throwing him off a boat."

"Then how? He's the golden boy, Victory, but he can't swim like we could at his age. He can't read like we could. He doesn't know much German or French like Unity. He's not dancing like me, or doing times tables like Edward, or playing the piano like William, or learning all the names of bones like you did."

"Because he's four ," Victory hissed.

"And he's difficult ," Clara replied. "He's not learning because he's a brat and he doesn't want to learn his lessons. But he's got to learn to swim ."

Victory held her sister's gaze for a long moment. She was about to speak, but then noticed that someone was walking toward them from the direction of the house. Aunt Dagmar was moving in their direction, taking long, determined strides. There was something chilling about seeing Aunt Dagmar move with such focus. She wore a navy-blue day dress with a wide red belt, giving her an almost military air. The sharp angles of her face, her silver-streaked chestnut-brown hair with its center part, riveted back from her face in well-policed waves—she herself was like the hull of a ship, breaking through the water.

"You threw Max off the side of the motorboat," she said. It was not a question.

"I wasn't going to let anything happen to him," Clara said. "I was trying to get him to swim. You know I would have pulled him out."

"You threw Max off the boat," she said again.

Aunt Dagmar looked to Victory. To Victory's credit, she didn't throw her sister to the wolves. She looked away, at the black swans nearby, at the pink roses, at the gardeners making sure the lines in the lawn were perfectly even.

"I was watching him," Clara said. "Aunt Dagmar, I swear..."

Aunt Dagmar carried authority—a correction from her carried as much weight as any from their father. She could issue a week's prohibition from the playhouse, or a thousand lines of Latin. Unlike their father, whose behavior could be easily predicted, it was hard to know what Aunt Dagmar was going to say.

"Do not throw him off boats," she finally replied. "Stay in the shallows. Be more careful, Clara. Both of you. Be more careful ."