“I know why,” Rip says. “It was a good idea.”
“Drink some of it for me when we go back.”
“I will,” Rip says. They gaze across the harbor, listening to the piano music coming from inside the clubhouse—“Falling in Love Again”—and admiring the soft blue and gold sky, the sailboats bobbing on the water.
“I miss her,” Willa says.
“I know.”
“It’s fun to have Savannah here,” Willa says. “But do you think there’s something going on between her and my dad?”
“Would that be so bad?”
“I just can’t wrap my mind around it,” Willa says. “Savannah belonged to my mother.”
“I’ll point out the obvious,” Rip says. “People don’t belong to other people.”
“Tell that to Marissa,” Willa says.
Marissa, Rip thinks. She’s having a tough night and it’s about to get tougher. Rip has some bad news about the claim her mother is trying to file with Marissa’s Jeep.
They turn around and walk back to the table. Rip waves to someone over Willa’s head. When she turns, she sees Pamela and Zach on the tennis court.
“That’s nice. Your sister and Zach are playing tennis together,” Willa says, the wheels in her mind turning.
“I’m sure she’s eating him alive,” Rip says. “He has no serve.”
Willa and Rip have just returned to their seats when the bartender appears at the table.
“I just wanted to say congratulations,” he says.
“Why, thank you,” Lucinda says.
The bartender looks confused. “I mean, because I saw that Golden Girl went to number one on the New York Times bestseller list.” He seems to be speaking specifically to Carson. “You must be proud.”
Carson is impressed. Marshall brushed up on his bestsellers and he had the guts to approach Lucinda’s table unsolicited.
“We’re so proud,” Carson says. “Thank you for acknowledging it.”
“I don’t know what the young man is talking about,” Lucinda says.
“Oh, you do so, Lucy,” Penny Rosen says. “We went over this on Sunday. Vivi’s new book went to number one.”
Marshall hovers at Carson’s place. “I went to the Oystercatcher to see you last night. Must have been your night off?”
Carson can’t let him go any further. She hasn’t told anyone in her family that she’s been fired, and now, over two weeks later, no one has asked, not even Leo, who lives with her. The only person who paid attention to Carson’s comings and goings is dead.
“I’ll swing by to chat after we’ve finished,” Carson says.
“I’d love it. Until then, I’ll be admiring you from afar.” He touches her shoulder, then turns and says, “Happy birthday, Mrs. Quinboro.”
“Thank you,” Lucinda says. Then to Penny: “That’s more like it.”
A moment later, Pamela and Zach Bridgeman stop by, sweaty in their tennis whites.
“Happy birthday, Mrs. Quinboro,” Pamela says.
“We don’t mean to interrupt your dinner,” Zach says. His expression, Carson can see, is strained, but his agony can be nothing compared to her own. The inside of her mouth becomes chalky; there’s a bright, piercing pain in her chest. They were playing tennis together? This is hard evidence of their reconnecting, she supposes.
“Who won?” Carson asks.
“I killed him,” Pamela says.
“I have no serve,” Zach says. “I’m fat and out of shape.”
“Me too,” JP says.
“Me three,” Savannah says. “Kudos to you, though, Zach, getting out on the court.”
“You look good to me!” Carson sings out. She winks at him and everyone at the table chuckles. She can’t believe her own audacity—and she’s completely sober. But she isn’t going to let him appear at her family dinner as though everything is just fine.
He doesn’t even look at her; he simply steps back with a raised hand, and Pamela takes the hint. They both head over to the bar and plop themselves in front of Marshall.
Carson needs a drink. Badly. But she won’t let Zach break her. She’s stronger than that.
Their entrées arrive; they chat about the food and how it hasn’t changed in fifty years; they discuss how busy it’s been at the Cone and talk about Savannah’s upcoming trip to Brazil.
“You should go along,” Lucinda says, nudging JP’s elbow. “I always wished the two of you would get together when you were younger, but it never happened.”