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Right when I get home, I check the leather-bound notebook where we take down messages in the foyer in case there’s something from Ariana. There’s one waiting for me from Tori, inviting me to go to the beach with her tomorrow, but nothing from my old friend. When I drop off the grocery bags in the kitchen, I ask Chef and Patricia if anyone has come by looking for me.
“We haven’t had any visitors since you left,” Patricia says. “Were you expecting someone? Should I add a place setting for dinner?”
I smile glumly and shake my head. “No, thank you.”
I haven’t seen Ariana in a few years, and though there are times when I miss her, she’s always been such a wildcard in my life, wreaking havoc and leaving me to pick up the pieces. Still, she’s the closest thing I have to real family, so I won’t give up on her. If she’s in Newport, I hope she comes back to Rosethorn.* * *Sleep doesn’t come easy that night, and I’m relieved when Tori swings by the next day to drag me to the beach. I need to get out of my head. I need to stop thinking about the fact that Nicholas apparently didn’t get home from sailing until really late last night and was still sleeping when I went down for breakfast with Cornelia. I need to stop thinking about him, period.
We fly down Ocean Drive in Tori’s car with the windows down. Wind whips my hair and I close my eyes, relishing feeling the sun on my face.
We wind along the road toward a private beach club Tori’s been going to since she was a little girl. I don’t quite understand its purpose.
“Can’t we just go to a normal beach? With normal people?”
“It’s not about the people. It’s the fact that, for all the water surrounding Newport, there’s not all that much sandy beach access. The public spots will be so crowded by now we wouldn’t even be able to find a spot to put our stuff.”
Well, when she puts it that way…
The private beach actually isn’t as nice as I was expecting. There’re no real amenities other than the fence that blocks tourists from overcrowding the area and the fancy restrooms where we change into our bathing suits. There’s also a small cafe that serves burgers and fries, but we won’t need to eat there thanks to the picnic basket Chef sent me off with this morning.
“Eat the charcuterie early. It won’t keep all day.”
Of course, because who doesn’t take a premade charcuterie board to the beach?
There’s fruit salad and croissants and lemon cookies too. I have enough food to feed everyone here.
The other perk of Tori’s membership at the club is the fact that there’re already beach chairs and umbrellas, as well as rolled towels, waiting for us near the water. No schlepping lawn chairs back and forth from the car. No breaking a sweat while you set up camp for the day.
We arrive at a secluded section of beach, set the picnic basket and the small cooler with drinks between two lawn chairs, and then I survey our spot. It’s perfect. Ten steps and we’re in the crystal blue-green water. I have my sights aimed there. My fingers are poised at the bottom of my cover-up when Tori catches my attention.
“Hold on, let me ask that attendant to push all these chairs together,” she says, pointing to the cluster of beach chairs to our right.
“Why?”
“There’re some other people coming.”
My heart drops.
“Who? The people from your garden party?”
Please say no.
“Just some of the guys probably. I invited Mary Anne too, but I doubt she’ll show up.”
I grimace and let my cover-up fall back in place. “How are things going with you two?”
“Oh, it’s not really going at all. She hasn’t broken things off with me completely, but she’s still not convinced that I’m prepared to tell everyone the truth about who I am. I’m almost thirty—Jesus, how long can I go on pretending just to please others?”
“What’s holding you back? You’re not…I mean, your family wouldn’t cut you off, would they?”
“What? No. NO. It’s nothing like that. I was given control of my trust when I turned twenty-five, but even if that was a concern, I wouldn’t let it hold me back. It has more to do with tradition. Y’know, life as I know it will end. Some people are going to judge me.”
“But why would you care about their judgments? Put yourself in Mary Anne’s shoes. You staying silent probably makes her feel like you’re ashamed to be with her.”
“I’m not!”
“I know that, but—”
A beach ball comes sailing our way and lands lightly in the sand at my feet. I glance back over my shoulder to see Barrett and another guy I don’t recognize making their way toward us. Barrett shoots me a lopsided grin and a big wave.
