Chapter 7.

7.

Two police officers listened to my story and recorded my statement, but neither asked a lot of questions. They seemed eager to confirm that my recollections aligned with the statements given by Errol and Gerry, and then they sent me on my way. The entire conversation took less than fifteen minutes.

By the time I started back to my cottage, the lawn was empty; the caterers had carried away every last trace of the reception. It was all gone, like no part of the weekend had ever happened. The door to Blackbird was locked and I had to use my phone to get inside. I called out for Tammy and Abigail but to my surprise the cottage was empty.

I went upstairs to my bedroom, changed out of my tuxedo, and carefully placed all its components back in the garment bag. Then I pulled on my chinos and a T-shirt and a light fleece sweatshirt because I knew I would be driving all night and I wanted to be comfortable.

My suitcase was still on the lower bunk bed and I unzipped the top. Inside the main pocket was an old manilla envelope containing ten one-hundred-dollar bills. I realized this had to be the gift that Aidan had mentioned, but I didn’t understand the point of it. He promised the gift would keep me safe, but what kind of protection was $1,000 going to buy?

I studied the envelope for secret markings or some other clue but couldn’t find anything. The money had the old musty scent of a used bookstore, and none of the bills were minted after 1953, so I suspected they were from a secret stash in the underground shelter. Maybe Aidan was so naive about money he thought $1,000 would make a real difference to a working-class schlub like myself. The thought made me angry, and I was tempted to leave the envelope in my cottage. But at the last second I tossed it back into my bag, then piled all my dirty clothes on top of it.

By half past four, I was carrying my suitcase up to Osprey Lodge. I entered through the kitchen, where a half dozen police officers were gathered around a buffet of sides and salads—all foods prepared for the reception and left behind by the caterers. Gerry was encouraging the officers to bring the trays home to their friends and families, so the meals wouldn’t go to waste. But at my arrival, they abruptly stopped talking and averted their eyes, like they felt ashamed of benefiting from my misfortune.

I found Maggie and Tammy hidden away in the living room, sitting with the doors closed and the curtains drawn. And just like the police, they stopped their conversation as soon as I arrived. Maggie occupied nearly the entire sofa in her billowing white lace gown. She had tissues in her hand and a box of Kleenex at her side, but all her makeup was still intact. Her cheeks were dry.

“The police said we’re free to go,” I explained. “You two can say goodbye if you want, but I’ll be waiting outside.”

“You want to leave?” Tammy asked.

“It’s over. Everyone’s gone.”

“The guests are gone. We’re family. This is one of those occasions where we pull together and support one another.”

“I don’t support this at all, Tammy. Three people are dead, and the only reason I’m keeping quiet is because of her.” I pointed at Maggie because I couldn’t bring myself to address my daughter by name. “I’ll wait twenty minutes so you can pack your things. But then I’m leaving whether you’re ready or not.”

Tammy understood I was serious and stood up. But Maggie didn’t move.

“There’s nothing here for you anymore,” I told her. “It’s over. No marriage means no prenup. You get nothing.”

Maggie’s expression suggested that these facts were still up for debate. “It’s definitely a change of plans,” she said, “but I still have a lot of things to discuss with Errol. You and Tammy should leave, but I’m going to stick around a little longer.”

I worried that if I left Maggie in Osprey Cove, she would never get away—that she would be bound to the Gardner family forever. But I was too tired to fight anymore. I couldn’t keep rehashing the same arguments over and over. I hadn’t eaten anything all day and my back was killing me. I just wanted to lie down, close my eyes, and sleep.

Instead, I had to drive six hours to the small, sad, desperate world that my daughter used to call home.

Maggie gave us both hugs and promised to call the next day with an update. Then she announced that she was going upstairs to get changed. “I had this dress altered three times but it’s just never fit me right.” She hitched up her train and walked out to the foyer, and we watched her climb up the stairs until she was gone.

“Well,” Tammy said quietly. “I’ll get my things.”

“Don’t forget your stock shares.”

She flinched like I’d slapped her, and I wished I could take back the words. “You know I already feel horrible,” she said. “You don’t need to make it any worse.”

“I’m sorry, Tammy. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Was I angry that she took the shares and cheerfully suggested that we all just look the other way? Yes. But would I have done the exact same thing if our financial circumstances were switched? Almost definitely yes. Tammy had spent her whole life cleaning up after other people’s messes; she’d always been undervalued, unappreciated, and underpaid. Five years of salary was life-changing money, and I wasn’t going to judge her for taking it.

“I thought Aidan was okay with the situation,” she said. “I thought the plan was his idea! If I had any inkling he was going to—to—”

I put my arm around her so she wouldn’t feel obliged to finish the sentence. “No one’s blaming you, Tammy. This camp just messed with your head. All the money here—it makes people say and believe crazy things. And we just need to get the hell away from it. Where’s Abigail?”

“Back at our cottage.”

I explained that I had just come from the cottage. “She wasn’t there. When did you last see her?”

“Back at the Globe. When we all got the news. I told Abby to go to the cottage and I followed Maggie here.”

“And that was the last time you saw her?”

“Time slipped away from me. I’ve been overwhelmed.”

“Go pack your stuff,” I said. “I’ll find her.”

I looked all over the camp. I checked the beach, the dock, and the boathouse. And then I walked up to Big Ben, the climbing tree, where Abigail had jumped onto my shoulders and injured my back.

Finally, in desperation, I went to the place where she was last seen—the Globe, where we’d all gathered for the ceremony. The stage was cleared and the string quartet was gone. The flower bouquets had been carried away and all the benches were empty save for a single person in the back row. The last one at the wedding was a little girl with a crown of summer daisies hanging crookedly around her head. In her lap was a tiny basket of flower petals. She sat facing the stage and appeared to be waiting. Like she was nurturing a small hope the ceremony might still begin.

I took the seat beside her. “Hey, Abby.”

“Hello.” Her voice was a sad little croak, and I realized she was crying. Of course she was crying. She’d been promised a fairy-tale wedding. She’d been invited to witness the single greatest promise that any two people can make to each other—an extraordinary declaration of love and faith and commitment. And now Aidan was dead and everyone was gone and come Monday Abigail would leave Tammy’s condo and go live with some unknown mystery caregiver who might or might not look after her.

I knew it had been a mistake to bring her.

I said, “We’re going to drive back now,” and Abigail rubbed a knuckle into her eye and nodded. “So we need to get going, is what I mean.”

This just made her cry even more. Embarrassed, she put both hands over her face and turned away from me. “I’m so sorry, Mister Frank, I just—”

Her face was full of tears and snot and I couldn’t make out the rest. I pulled off my sweatshirt and used the soft fleece lining to gently dry her cheeks. She leaned forward and blew her nose into the fabric and then apologized. I told her it was fine. I said, “Get it all out,” and she honked her nose a couple more times and then took a deep breath and at last she was clear.

“Did Tammy tell you what happened?”

“She said there was an accident.”

I nodded, because this was certainly all she needed to know. “I’m sorry it happened, Abigail.”

“I feel so bad.” She doubled over like she had stomach cramps and gritted her teeth. “I mean, it just hurts so much.”

All the other wedding guests were already moving on with their lives. They were on their way home, heading back to reality, and here was the one person at Osprey Cove who shared all my pain and grief, who felt even worse than I did.

“I’m hurting, too,” I said. “I’m sorry we put you through this, Abigail.”

I put my hand on her knee and she sort of melted into my side, and we sat there without talking for a long time. Every so often, I felt my phone twitching—I was getting lots of text messages from my sister, who was looking all over for us—but I didn’t bother to read any of them. I felt like Abigail deserved somebody’s full attention, and right now that somebody was me.

I don’t remember how long we sat there, but after a while I noticed the sun was dropping. Soon, it would be dusk. I thought maybe Abigail had fallen asleep, but then I cleared my throat and she stirred. “We have to get going. We’ll both feel better if we leave.”

“You really think so?”

“I’m sure of it. You’ll feel a tiny bit better tomorrow morning. And a tiny bit better the day after that. Right now we just need to push through it.”

Abigail nodded and pushed the fleece sweatshirt back into my lap. It was streaked with boogers and snot so I just turned it inside out and wrapped it around my waist. Then I stood up but she refused to budge.

“Come on,” I told her. “We gotta go.”

She raised her arms, asking me to carry her. I didn’t think my back could handle it but I agreed to give it a try. I held her little hand while she climbed up onto the bench. Then I lifted her by the waist and swung her onto my hip. I was surprised to discover she didn’t weigh very much at all. With my free hand I grabbed her basket of flower petals and we set off down the trail to Osprey Lodge. Abigail hooked an arm around my shoulders, then used her free hand to scratch the side of her head.

“Still itchy?”

She nodded.

“I thought Maggie called a doctor.”

“She said she was gonna.”

“But no one ever came?”

Abigail shook her head. Then scratched it some more before resting it on my shoulder, and together we walked back to the camp.