“Do you think it was spying on us?” Jo asked.
“Seems unlikely,” Celeste said, “but if you guys want to take a look, I can steer the boat that way.”
“Will we get in trouble if we head over there?” Nessa asked.
“I don’t see how,” Celeste said. “Nobody owns the ocean.”
The mansions that lined the Pointe’s pristine beaches grew larger as the boat sped toward them. Some were classic shingle style, others starkly modern, but all were empty palaces. The kings who’d built them didn’t rule countries. They ran pharmaceutical companies or data-mining operations disguised as social media. Millions of subjects paid them tribute each month, but few people even knew their names.
“I read a book about the history of this area,” Harriett said. “Did you know there’s a story behind the name Culling Pointe?” She looked over at the others, who all shook their heads. “Back in the sixteen hundreds, the English attempted to start a colony here. They massacred most of the island’s native people and built a fort where Mattauk sits. Then one day a couple of colonists were hunting in the woods when they spotted a pair of deer walking around on their hind legs. The people who’d lived on the island for centuries could have told them that wasn’t unusual. The animals had learned how to reach fruit that grew in the trees. But the Europeans believed the deer were possessed by Satan. So they killed all the creatures and dumped their carcasses in the ocean. When they finished, they blamed the local midwife for inviting the devil to town and hanged her as a witch. She had her revenge the following winter when all but two of the colonists starved to death.”
“People were barbaric back in those days,” Celeste said.
“We haven’t changed,” Harriett said. “We just smell a bit better.”
“Have you been out to the Pointe?” Jo asked.
“As a matter of fact, I used to go once every summer,” Harriett said. “My ex-husband does the advertising for Little Pigs BBQ. The CEO of the company is a man named Jackson Dunn. He has a house on the Pointe, and he invites all his favorite toadies out for a big bash every Memorial Day.”
“I’ve heard about that party,” Celeste said. “Andrew says people would kill for an invite.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if someone already has,” Harriett said. “Jackson’s neighbors are all billionaires and CEOs. If you’re looking for clients or investors, that’s where you want to be. A lot of deals get made at that party. That’s how they recruit for their club.”
“I always knew there were plenty of rich folks around here, but billionaires? Five miles away from my little white house?” Nessa couldn’t quite believe it.
“The Pointe may be five miles away by map, but it’s really a parallel universe,” Harriett said. “It doesn’t belong to our world. The people who live there look normal, but they’re not like the rest of us. They hand off all of life’s unpleasantness to others, and everything they want magically appears. After a while, it changes them. More than anything, it changes how they see us.”
“Look over there. I think that’s our drone pilot.” Celeste was pointing at a tiny man standing at the end of a dock.
Jo checked him out through a pair of binoculars that Celeste kept in the boat’s cockpit. She guessed he might be in his mid-fifties. He was wearing a pair of old khakis and a denim shirt rolled up to his elbows. He must have seen they were heading his way because he offered a friendly wave. Jo passed the binoculars to Nessa and didn’t wave back.
“He seems normal,” she said. “Kind of cute in a rumpled way.”
“He reminds me of my high school math teacher,” Nessa added.
As they drew closer, their assessment didn’t change. He looked like the sort of man who owned several tweed jackets and knew how to pick a good cheese.