One by one Van’s friends hugged Caroline hello, barely touching her shoulders since they were all half naked in their swimsuits. Bailey looked like a fertility goddess, her rounded belly golden, her green bikini tied in loops at her hips and neck.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” said Augusta. “We’ve been doing this same trip forever and it’ll be fun to have someone new in the mix.” She was wearing tortoiseshell sunglasses, and Caroline couldn’t quite see her eyes, but there was something in her voice that let her know this wasn’t really a welcome, that Augusta, in her prim and Old Yankee way, was informing Caroline that she had intruded on a sacred ritual, that she was no more welcome than a mailman dropping off a letter and then staying for dinner.
“Do you feel like paddling?” asked Van quietly. “We could just go unpack our suitcases and settle in?” He was so sweet, always trying to make sure she was comfortable.
“YOLO,” Caroline deadpanned, pasting a grin on her face and hefting a paddle awkwardly in her hand. Had she ever before held a paddle? She felt like she should be jousting or competing in one of the lesser-known Squid Games.
As Bailey andAugustawatched from the dock, Van showed her how to balance on her knees and adjust the paddle for her height. Shewobbled a little but didn’t fall. Eben gave her a hearty wave from his board, but Caroline worried she’d capsize if she tried to return it. They started off slowly, Caroline crouching on her hands and knees whenever a wave rocked the board. The shoreline was wooded with docks poking out from each property. Fran and Max paddled side by side, chatting away. Colin and RJ shared a kayak and treated the outing like the Iron Man, already twenty yards ahead of everyone else. The sun sparkled on the water and Van took his time, patiently waiting for Caroline, showing her the osprey nest and explaining that the same couple came back every year, adding to the nest each time.
“Seasonal residents,” Caroline joked. “They probably pay taxes in Florida.”
“Ospreys mate for life,” Van said earnestly. “Well, unless they fail to produce chicks after two seasons.”
“Then the male osprey joins a gym, gets on Hinge, and finds a teenager with daddy issues.” Caroline nodded.
By the time Van and Caroline turned around at the point, the rest of the group was nearly back to the dock. Van climbed to his feet, adjusting his paddle and cutting quickly through the water. Caroline stood, teetered, and dropped back to her knees. She had never been very athletic, but she hadn’t ever cared; in fact she had sort of taken pride in it. She made a point to avoid any event with hockey or football, believing sports to be for meatheads and those with retrograde sexual politics. She’d grown up a city kid where the coolest guys in school had been musicians, where they didn’t have enough space for a soccer field, where you could take fencing to fulfill your PE requirement. Here in New England, she was suddenly surrounded by jocks, and it was a baffling development. Still, the air was warm, the water was clear, and nobody was making her throw or catch a ball, so shepushed along, following Van back across the cove. At the dock the little black dog was going crazy, running in frantic circles.
“Lady! Lady! We’re back!” Van climbed the ladder and hoisted his board onto the dock, carrying it up to the boathouse as Lady jumped frantically at his heels. Caroline steered toward the ladder, unsure of how she might get out. Everyone else was gone, their kayaks drying on the grass. The water was deep, and she couldn’t quite figure out how to climb off the board while holding the paddle. As she tentatively put one foot on the lowest rung, she heard a splash and suddenly Lady was on her, scrabbling to get on the board, knocking Caroline sideways. “LADY, NO!” she screamed, and kicked the dog off her, dropping the paddle and tumbling into the water.
When she emerged, sputtering, she saw Van’s grandmother on the lawn, watching her with a frown.
Ugh, some people are so uptight about dog-kicking, texted Nina.
It was not great
I don’t care what everyone says. I think you’re a good person.
Stop itttttt
If you need me I’ll hop in an Uber and see you in eight hours, just say the word.
No no I’m chill. I am going to make Van’s asshole friends LOVE ME
Dinner was alreadyon the table and so Caroline changed into dry clothes without showering, wiping the mascara off her face with a clump of toilet paper and pulling her wet hair back with a clip.
“I knew you wouldn’t have time to shop, so I organized supper,” Van’s grandmother informed her. “You kids will be in charge of your own meals tomorrow.”
“Oh, glad to!” Caroline said quickly. Van’s grandmother was honestly the most terrifying person she had ever met. She was drinking a Gibson, the cocktail onion nestled in the bottom of the glass, and the table was laid with heavy silver. There was a small roast chicken, picked up from a nice grocery in town, a cold broccoli slaw sprinkled with shavings of carrot, and a plate of butter. Caroline looked around to see what the butter might be for.
“There was a loaf of bread, but everyone ate it with the cheese plate while you were out,” murmured Fran apologetically.
“This isplentyof food.” Van’s grandmother shook her head disapprovingly. “Whenever we have leftovers nobody eats them. You know, food waste is an enormous problem in this country.”
“It’s actually shocking from an environmental perspective.” Van served Caroline a piece of chicken breast. “The food produced and then wasted in the United States generates more greenhouse gas emissions than thirty-seven million cars.”
“Exactly.” Van’s grandmother nodded. “I think expiration dates are the problem. People throw away perfectly good food just because the label says it’s too old. I ignore the labels completely.”
Caroline peered at the broccoli slaw and put a small spoonful on her plate. She was starving, but she forced herself to eat slowly, cutting her chicken into tiny bites to make it last. As they ate, they discussedthe various environmental disasters impacting the property: rising tides, the depletion of oysters, the moth infestations, the increasing chances of wildfire due to climate change. It seemed like Van’s extended family owned houses all up and down this same cove, with various complicated arrangements made for who got to stay where on different summer weekends.
“Now when is the baby due, Bailey?” asked Van’s grandmother.
“End of September,” Bailey replied easily. She was freshly scrubbed and rosy-cheeked, dressed in denim shorts and an oversize white sweatshirt, her lashes long and dark, her blond hair loose around her shoulders. “I’m just starting the third trimester.”
“And what about you?” His grandmother turned to Caroline.
“Oh,” Caroline stammered. “I’m not having a baby.”
“Of course you’re not. Where are you from? What do you do?”
