I’m ecstatic. I can feel the certainty glowing inside me like a flame. This is right. Rose deserves to be happy, and I am going to help her get there.
“No drama,” I repeat, jumping up again. “This is a terrific idea.”
Chapter EighteenRose
June 25
This is a terrible idea,” I whisper to Lily.
I’m holding a pair of gold heels in my left hand and the scrunched fabric of a long, pink dress in the other. The dress is patterned with white flowers and has flowing sleeves. I’m happy for the coverage. Lily always dismisses when I complain about my arms, but she has no idea what it’s like to watch your body change, become unfamiliar. I shift the fabric down again.
“Of all the terrible, ridiculous schemes you’ve concocted, this is the worst,” I say.
“Relax,” says Lily, not bothering to look up. She’s fixated on a point farther down the black beach, trying to make out shapes in the distance.
The moon is bright, but it is still not enough to fully illuminate the sand. Moments earlier, we watched the celestial object rise out of the sea. It was beautiful and bizarre, like a time-lapse video in reverse. The moon looked like a creature born of the ocean as it emerged intothe skyline inch by inch. For a moment, we were stunned into an appreciative silence.
Currently, we’re squatted in a sand dune, partially concealed by the tall grass. A few yards ahead are the distant lights of a wedding.
Lily heard about it while working at the yacht club. There are large white tents, a checkered dance floor, and floral arrangements from ceiling to ground, which must cost more than a college tuition. Rumor has it there may even be fireworks. We’re here to cross “crash a wedding” off the bucket list.
“We’re going to get arrested,” I say, a nervous tinge to my voice.
“Arrested?” scoffs Lily. “What would we get arrested for?”
“I don’t know… loitering! Or, like, breaking and entering. Actually, yes, I have it! Trespassing. This is trespassing on private property.”
“It’s the beach, Mom. It’s not private.”
“Well, tonight it is!” I swat at my ankles, feeling something creeping up my left leg. “And we’re going to get ticks and then Lyme disease.”
I sound like my sister, who is the epitome of hypochondria. Elizabeth is constantly diagnosing herself with various, far-fetched illnesses on WebMD. I sometimes wonder if it’s because our mother died so young—if getting ahead of a potential diagnosis, even an imagined one, gives her a sense of control over the uncontrollable.
“If Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson can do it, surely we can.”
“That was a movie, Lil.”
Lily snaps back to look at me, her red hair curly and wild. I’m still getting used to her bangs. They make her look more mature somehow, less like my little girl.
“Oh my gosh, we’re doing this for Lottie. Remember? If a seventy-something woman was willing to crash a wedding, what are you so worried about?”
“Fine,” I sigh, although I’m still not sure. I suppose I already am dressed, and we came all this way. “What’s our strategy?”
“Okay, so I think we should just walk in through the tent, and if anyone asks, we’ll say we wanted to dip our toes in the water.”
“That’s your grand plan? Just walking in? Going for a casual, moonlit stroll in formal dresses?”
“The simplest plans are the best.”
“And if they ask us who we know?”
“Let’s just make up a generic rich person name. Something like… Tripp!” offers Lily.
“Tripp? That’s way too specific, what if there are no Tripps?”
Lily looks me dead in the eyes. “There’s always a Tripp somewhere nearby on Nantucket.”
I laugh. What I don’t tell her is that William sometimes goes by Tripp, too. He’s the third William in his lineage, so lots of his family calls him Tripp, short for “the third.” Lily would certainly make fun of that.
