“Should we go watch the fireworks?” she asked.
“Down on the beach?” he asked.
She shook her head and took his hand. There was a terrace off the dining area, facing northeast across the beach toward Weekapaug and Block Island. But instead of stepping outside, she took him up the circular staircase to the Crow’s Nest—the small and cozy nook with the daybed. From there, she started climbing straight up a ladder to the roof, and he followed her.
To the widow’s walk, at the very top of the Ocean House.
Conor followed Kate through the hatch onto the tower. They stood in a tight square surrounded by an ornate wrought iron fence. They looked around in four directions and saw Rhode Island, Connecticut, and New York, salt water everywhere.
They saw the Atlantic Ocean, lighthouses on the horizon, too numerous to count. The Block Island windmills blinked red. Watch Hill Harbor was filled with boats, masthead lights twinkling, red-and-green running lights casting reflections in the water. They saw East Beach curving below them, a crescent embracing the ocean, the same view as the one in the painting Kate had given him.
When they looked straight down, they saw all the tables and all the celebrants at the Ocean House Independence Day Beach Ball. And when they looked up, they saw the fireworks. They saw canopies of white stars, waterfalls of red fire, treetops of green and yellow, exploding orchids, trailing vines and roses.
Conor was gazing at Kate instead of the sky. She must have felt it, because she reached up and touched his cheek. She left her hand there for a few seconds, and then he pulled her close. He felt her heart beating against his chest. He held her so tight, and she whispered something. He couldn’t hear the words over the sound of the fireworks, but he was pretty sure he knew what they were.
23
Monday, July 5; 8:00 a.m.
Kate and Conor had stayed up for hours, sitting on the widow’s walk until the fireworks were over, until the revelers had left the beach, and the staff had stowed the chairs and tables. They sat quietly, feeling the stillness. The only sounds were the tumbling waves and the bell buoy marking Watch Hill Passage.
She didn’t want to leave the tower. Being up here felt enchanted, in the same way as when they’d stayed in the Welcome Hotel. They sat side by side, holding hands. She barely noticed the time passing, but then the dark sky began to turn gray, and the first pink line of dawn appeared on the eastern horizon. Conor put his arm around her, and she leaned her head on his shoulder until the sun had risen and turned the ocean pure gold.
After sunrise, they climbed down the ladder, into the suite, and Conor made coffee in the kitchen—the way he always did at home. She sat at the table by the door to the terrace and watched him, feeling something new. They had been together for years, they had been engaged since two winters ago, but after last night, she felt that they had started over in some mysterious way.
“Good morning,” he said, handing her a cup of black coffee.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Are you tired?” he asked. “After staying up all night?”
She shook her head. “No, are you?”
“Not at all.”
They drank their coffee for a while. She didn’t want to talk or break the spell; she didn’t want to return to reality. She wanted the magic of the tower, of last night, to stay with them and keep them safe. But eventually she sighed.
“I want to show you something,” she said. The box that Miranda had given her was across the table, and she opened it and handed Conor the little wire ring. She watched his face, for his reaction.
“Belinda’s?” he asked, turning it over in his palm. “How did you get it? She gave it to you?”
“No, Miranda gave it to me,” she said.
“Bernard’s girlfriend?” Conor asked.
“It seems they’re not really together, though I’m not sure he knows that.”
“Then why is she here?”
“Because Belinda was her cousin.”
Conor looked up. “Okay ...” he said.
“They both wangled invitations to our wedding,” Kate said. “Belinda got close to Garrett, and Miranda began seeing Bernard.”
“But why?” Conor asked.
Kate took a deep breath. “Miranda said Belinda wanted to kill me, and she wanted to stop her.”
