CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SIX

Ileft Zoey at a table with Jamie. Someone had thoughtfully grabbed her a meal. She was the bride, after all.

Everyone had their food and was back in their places on the picnic benches. The conversation had quieted as people focused on their lobsters. I worked my way through the crowd, showing someone how to use the nutcracker on their lobster's claws, tying on another person's bib, answering questions about the meal and the history of the island. Servers ran to and fro with more water and iced tea, and there was regular, but not overwhelming business at the bar.

All seemed to be going well when I heard a loud thump and saw several of the people at Jamie's parents' table jump up. The man in the blue blazer had fallen backward off his bench.

"He's allergic!" a woman screamed. I didn't see who.

The man lay on the deck of the dining pavilion, gasping for air. I ran toward him, cursing under my breath. He was bright red, clutching his throat. My heart raced, fearing what could be happening. A massive allergic reaction to shellfish. I was always afraid of it on some level.

Tom beat me to the man, Jamie and Pete right behind him. Thanking every entity I could think of for the presence of trained professionals, I ran to the kitchen for the first-aid kit, in which we kept injectable epinephrin for just this sort of emergency. I yelled to Tom, Jamie, and Pete about where I was going as I went.

Tom was looking around, assessing the crowded room. People stood and stared, many hand to mouth. There was a chorus of concerned voices and offers of help. "We'll take him behind the counter of the gift shop," Tom called to me.

The gift shop, in the far corner of the dining pavilion, wasn't enclosed, but the high counter shielded its small floor space from view, and there were no tables nearby. Several people asked me what was happening as I rushed past with the first-aid kit. I assured them everything was fine as credibly as someone running with a first-aid kit could.

When I reached the gift shop, Pete was doing chest compressions, while Jamie timed him. I pulled the EpiPen from the packaging and handed it to Tom. "Are you sure?" I asked.

"No, but it's better to try it than just let him die here." Tom jabbed the needle into the man's thigh, right through his trousers.

The epinephrin appeared to have no result. My heart was beating so hard and fast, I was afraid I might keel over. Nothing like this had ever happened at the Clambake. And on Jamie and Zoey's special day.

Eventually, Jamie sat back on his heels, reaching over to touch Pete's arm, halting the next compression. "He's gone," Jamie said.

"Oh, no!" It flew out of my mouth without passing through my brain. I'd known the man was dead, but some visceral part of me denied it.

Tom nodded in agreement. "Yeah." He looked at his watch. "8:05 p.m. The coroner will want to know."

"What do we do?" I asked.

Tom looked out from the open porch toward the sky. "We have dessert and get these people out of here before the storm comes. I'll call the Coast Guard and ask them to come pick up the body. Discreetly, as soon as the Jacquie II is gone."

Body retrieval wasn't the Coast Guard's responsibility, but they would come. They were helpful like that.

While all this had been taking place in our little corner, the conversation level in the dining pavilion had almost returned to the pre-dinner roar. People were finishing their meals. I peeked up over the counter. "Do we leave him here until then?" I asked.

Many of the guests were grabbing their drinks and heading to the west side of the island to watch the sunset. Cradled by a bank of fast-moving clouds, the sun shot rays of bright pinks and oranges far above the horizon. People oohed and aahed.

Tom poked his head over the gift-shop counter and looked around. "We'll carry him up to Windsholme. I'll stay with him there to keep out prying eyes. Pete and Jamie, I need your help to carry him, but then get back to the wedding as soon as you can. You'll be missed."

We reluctantly agreed to the plan. "Put him in the old billiards room." I turned to Jamie. "Who is he?"

Jamie looked at me blankly. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because it's your wedding and he was sitting at your parents' table," I answered, as puzzled by his reaction as he was by mine.

Jamie stared at the man again, whose face was at rest now that he'd stopped gasping for air. "I never saw him before tonight."

* * *

I was relieved to see, when I exited the gift-shop area, that the main course had been cleared and dessert was on all the tables. The staff, more in tune with Maine weather than guests from out of town, wanted to get on the boat and go home as much as I wanted this shindig to be over. In addition to the clouds, the wind had come up. It wasn't howling, or even steady, but strong enough that the guests at the unprotected tables on the lawn had shrugged into sweaters, jackets, or shawls. Down at the dock, I could hear the waves hitting the Jacquie II, and there was a smell of roiling saltwater that hadn't been there before.

Captain George rose as soon as he saw me. "We've got to get these people out of here."

I nodded my agreement, stepped onto the porch of the dining pavilion, and shouted until I had everyone's attention. "Thank you so much for coming to Zoey's and Jamie's rehearsal dinner at the Snowden Family Clambake Company. We hope you had a great time and enjoyed your meal." I paused for a moment to acknowledge the clapping and cheering that followed. I'd pandered for it, but still it was nice to hear. "We'll see you all tomorrow at 1:30 sharp at the town pier. Don't be late. Time and tide waits, and so on."

Jamie, just returned from moving the body, stepped up and thanked the cooks and the rest of the staff, the Snowden family, and so on for their efforts. He knew exactly what he was doing. He gave everyone time to finish dessert and then announced it was time to get on the boat.

As the crowd waited on the dock to walk single file across the gangway, everyone on the staff ran around like crazy, cleaning the rest of the paper bowls the blueberry grunt was served in, throwing utensils in plastic bins to soak, and stowing champagne and other glasses behind the bar. Sonny and his crew collected the remains of the meal and the rest of the garbage. It would go back to the mainland, hidden away on the Jacquie II. My niece, Page, jumped in to help. She'd be on the paid Clambake staff for the first time this summer.

I looked for the members of the wedding party who'd be staying overnight at Windsholme. I found Dan Dawes on the dock, saying good-bye to his parents and grandparents. He kissed the women and embraced the men. "See you tomorrow," he said, "the happy day."

I put a hand on his arm. "If you wait until I'm done here, I'll show you to your room. Your bag and wedding suit are already up there."

He nodded his agreement and thanks. I saw the rest of the guests onto the boat. Mom waved from the pilot house, where she stood next to Captain George. He blew the ship's horn and immediately pulled the Jacquie II away from the dock. I sighed with relief as the boat turned and headed toward Busman's Harbor.