Chapter 19

July 2023

"You need to get over here," I say to Ash two hours after my chat with Tracy in the kitchen. I'm standing at the window of one of the guest rooms on the second floor, which I've been cleaning out and cataloging with the app that Lucy sent me the link to. It's always been my favorite, with pretty flowered wallpaper and windows looking out over the lawn.

The cataloging is a simple if laborious process. I have to take a photograph of every piece that will be part of the auction, then put as much as I know about its age and provenance. It's taken me the last hour to do this one simple room. At this rate, I'll have to be here all summer to get the other twenty-five done.

"Please don't talk so loud," Ash says, her voice a rasp.

"Sorry."

"What's going on?"

"It's almost time for cocktails."

"Ugh, I do not need another drink, like, ever."

"You need to come here anyway."

"Why?"

I pull the lace curtain aside. My father is standing out on the veranda, with his drink in hand, talking to a couple.

"Fred's here."

"Ah."

"And Lucy."

"Oh."

I let the curtain drop. "You knew about this?"

"I'd heard they were dating."

"Bad enough that Fred is buying my house and is around all the time, but now I have to watch him with another woman? One I actually like?"

"So don't go."

"That's not an option."

"Why not?"

I peek out the window again. Fred's wearing a dark blazer and no tie, the collar on his white dress shirt open. He's got his hand on the small of Lucy's back, like he's holding her in place. "I already skipped cocktails once because he was here, and I'm not going to give him the satisfaction."

"Guess you'll just have to face it, then."

"Please come."

"I can't. I've got the kids. Dave is out tonight with his buddies."

I sigh. "I guess that's fair."

She chuckles. "I did tell you. Last night notwithstanding, my life looks a lot different these days. Tea parties, sandcastles, things like that."

"But you hate the sand."

"It does get everywhere."

"I want to meet your kids."

"I'd like that."

I turn away from the window again and walk out of the room, my phone pressed to my ear. "Tonight?"

"No. No way. You already used that excuse. And I need a night or twenty without drinking."

"We don't have to drink."

"Sure," Ash says, laughing. "We don't."

I'm in the hallway. The door to Charlotte's room is closed, but I can hear her in there. I take a step closer. Maybe she can be my wingman.

"Do I look awful?" I ask Ash.

"What do you mean?"

"When you saw me, did you think, God she's aged badly."

"No."

"You promise?"

"Yes, why?"

I hear Charlotte's voice through the door, and then another one, deeper. I take a step back. "The expression on Fred's face the first time he saw me. Like he wouldn't have recognized me if he saw me out of context."

"He didn't say that."

"His eyes did."

"Well, fuck him, then."

I smile. "Thanks, Ash."

There's a wail behind her. "I've got to go."

"I'll come over soon."

"Oh, wait! Tomorrow. It's your birthday."

"I know."

"What are you doing?"

I hear another noise from Charlotte's room. It's Ann in there, enjoying herself by the sound of it. Good for you, Charlotte. Go for it.

"Unclear."

"Why?"

"In case you forgot, my birthday hasn't always worked out so well for me when Fred's around." I back farther away from Charlotte's door and head toward the stairs. If I'm going to see Fred, it's not going to be in these dust-stained clothes.

"One time …"

"Yeah."

"Your next birthday was okay, though, wasn't it?"

"Sure … a broken rib, a summer that ended with a broken heart."

"Okay, okay." Ash clucks her tongue. "Third time's the charm?"

"More like fifth time." I release a laugh. "Are you going?"

"Yep."

"Any room at your table?"

"I'm stuck with a bunch of old boring people, but maybe I can fix something."

I reach the third floor. It's blissfully cool. "Thank you for the air-conditioning, by the way."

"They came?"

"Yes, thank God."

"Good. It's on me. Your birthday present."

"Thank you."

"Happy to help."

I go into my room and do a mental inventory of the outfits I brought with me. Nothing appropriate comes to mind, so I go to the closet. It's full of the things I left behind when I moved out at twenty-two. "Maybe there isn't even a seat for me."

"Sorry to say I'm pretty sure there is. Charlotte bought a table weeks ago."

"Sigh." I flip through the dresses, a paved road down memory lane. I stop on one. The dress I wore to my birthday dinner when I turned sixteen. "Fuck it."

"What?"

"Nothing. I'll see you tomorrow."

We say goodbye and hang up. I take the dress and slip the hanger over my head, then stand in front of the full-length mirror. I look a lot more like myself than when I arrived. Color has returned to my cheeks from the daily exercise, and I don't seem so haunted now that I'm eating regular meals and drinking less, despite last night. The dress suits me—it always has—and it feels like a small act of defiance to wear it.

Little victories.

"And this is my daughter, Olivia," my father says to Fred twenty minutes later. I'm wearing the dress and minimal makeup, just lip gloss and mascara. My hair is loose down my back, and I'm wearing flat sandals so I don't tower over the shorter guests. There are more people here than last week, the effect, I assume, of my father's leave-taking combined with the better cash flow. I make a mental note to ask Tracy when the annuity is going to be purchased. The sooner the better, before he drinks it all away, or his friends do.

"We've met," Fred says.

Lucy has wandered off onto the lawn, so it's just the three of us. Fred's staring at me like I'm a puzzle, like he's seen me before but he's not sure where.

"Ah," my father says vaguely. "In New York, I assume." He's on his third gin and tonic by the sound of his voice. It always gets slurry at that point, like it's been diluted.

"No," Fred says gently. "Here."

"William," I say, touching his elbow. "Come on now—you remember Fred. His aunt and uncle—the Crafts?"

His forehead creases in concentration, then clears. "Oh, Jill's boy."

"Not quite," Fred says. "But close enough."

"How is Jill? I haven't seen her recently."

"She moved to Florida a few years ago. Something about the winters."

"That's where Tracy spends her winters," William says vaguely. He hates the entire idea of Florida, a place where it's impossible to know who's who, according to him.

Lucy walks casually back to our group. "Hi, Olivia."

She looks breathtaking as always, wearing a lime-green wrap dress that hugs her in all the right places, and gold drop earrings that brush her shoulders.

"Hi, Lucy. Thanks for coming."

The other night, at Sophie's, I was sure she and Fred had just met. But seeing them together again, I can see that it's more than that. Maybe it's new between them, but it's not innocent.

"I've always loved this place."

"It's special."

There's an awkward pause as it occurs to all of us that the tables will be turned soon—my father, the guest; Fred, the host. Or maybe it will all be rubble, work crews digging up the lawn the way I've been digging up the past.

"Well, you'll have to keep up the tradition, Fred," William says, rattling the last of his ice in his glass.

Fred frowns. "The tradition?"

"He means the cocktail hour." I turn to my father. "Fred can do whatever he wants to the house, the grounds, all of it."

William grumbles his assent.

"And you shouldn't feel any obligation to do anything to please us," I say to Fred. "But I would suggest we change the topic."

Lucy smiles at me. "I love this dress, Olivia. Where did you get it?"

William rocks back on his heels. "That's my cue to leave. When the women start talking about clothing. Escape, Fred, now if you can."

We all laugh, and then William walks away.

"A nice man," Lucy says, watching him go.

"He is," I agree. "And I found this dress in my closet. I think the last time I wore it was the summer of 2003."

Fred's head snaps up at the date, and I feel a small, petty sense of satisfaction.

"Everything old is new again," Lucy says, oblivious to the tension.

I tear my eyes away from Fred. "Precisely."

"Speaking of … if I remember correctly, it's your birthday tomorrow," Lucy says, touching Fred's arm. "Fred, her birthday parties were always so great. These July Fourth parties on the beach. They were wild! This one time, these guys in my class decided to streak, and the Beach Police arrested them."

That was my eighteenth birthday. I hadn't wanted to celebrate, but Ash had insisted. It was the first time I'd been to one of those bashes since the disastrous one with Fred, and part of me kept expecting him to show up, like the lure of my big birthday would be enough to pull him back to the Hamptons. He didn't come, and I ended up making out with some guy whose name I don't remember, then throwing up in the bushes at the exact same spot.

"I remember," Fred says, in a tone of voice I can't decipher.

Lucy's surprised. "You've been to one of Olivia's birthdays?"

"I have."

She looks at me, then at Fred. "You two know each other?"

Fred grimaces. "Why does no one around here know that?"

"Not sure. Anyway, Lucy, it was a long time ago."

"You dated?"

"Briefly," I say firmly, wanting to be the final word on this. "But it was no big deal."

Fred's red in the face now, and I'm not sure if it's embarrassment or anger. Maybe both.

"Right," Lucy says. "So, what's the plan for tomorrow night?"

"I don't really—"

"You should join us." She holds onto Fred's arm, more tightly than earlier. "There's still room at the table, right, Fred?"

"I think my sister has a table."

"That's the same one. She invited us. Ann will be there too. And Sophie and Colin. But they're eight-person tables. Room for you and Wes."

Now it's my turn to blush. "I … I thought Sophie would have told you. We've separated."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine."

"I hope you'll join us. Truly. You should celebrate your birthday, even if it's a tough time."

"I'll think it over—thanks."

She nods and now we lapse into silence, the sounds of the cocktail party breaking up around us. In a moment, one of us will make an excuse to go, but right now we're bound up together in tensions we don't fully understand.

"What did I miss?" Charlotte says a minute later, coming up next to us with Ann in tow, and all I can do is laugh.