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Instantly, she feels better.
She makes it back to the main house, grabs her glass of wine, and gets to the deck just in time to watch Hollis light the grill with the press of a button, no assistance needed. Hollis looks up and says, “You don’t have a cigarette, do you?”
Hallelujah,Tatum thinks. She has been wondering when she could sneak in a smoke. She pulls her Newports out of her shorts pocket and offers one to Hollis. “I didn’t think you smoked anymore,” Tatum says.
“I don’t.” Hollis inhales deeply. Her lungs burn and she experiences an instant head rush.Hello, nicotine, my old friend. “Except in case of emergency.”
Tatum takes a drag of her cigarette and tips what’s left of her wine into her mouth. “I was as surprised as you to see Jack. He and Kyle must have cooked it up.”
“How did he find out about Matthew?”
“Kyle texted him when it happened,” Tatum says.
“Is he still with Mindy?” Hollis asks. She doesn’t say that she’s been stalking Jack’s Facebook page and that the last picture of Mindy appeared on August 25, 2020.
“She got tired of waiting for a ring and left him,” Tatum says. “She married some retired tech guy and they bought an inn in Lenox. So, if you’re asking—yes, Jack is currently single.”
He’s single,Hollis thinks. But he’s so damn good-looking that he could probably sleep with any woman in Western Massachusetts. “He looks exactly the same,” she says. “Don’t you think?”
“He’s bald and has a silver goatee,” Tatum says. “If you remember correctly, in high school he had a full head of hair and was so skinny he couldn’t keep his pants up.”
“You’re right,” Hollis says. “I guess what I mean is that heseemsexactly the same.”
“Like he’s still madly in love with you?” Tatum says. “Yes, I noticed that as well.”
Brooke offers to clean up the appetizers—the few remaining dried apricots, pecan dust, and smears of cheese—and Dru-Ann leaves her to it. “I’m going to have a chat with my goddaughter,” she says.
Dru-Ann wanders down the hallway to the right, guided by faint strains of “Practice” by DaBaby, until she comes to a door with a stripe of light at the bottom. She knocks; the music stops.
“What’s up?” Caroline says through the closed door. “Is Gigi here?”
Dru-Ann cracks open the door. “Sorry, it’s just me.”
Caroline is at her desk uploading the footage she’s shot so far to her laptop. The scene between her mother and the surprise visitor from the car isseriouslyunsettling. Caroline has watched it half a dozen times with the predictable emotions. She has never seen her mother look at anyone that way, not even her father.
“Hey,” Caroline says. “My mom said I didn’t have to come back out until Gigi got here.”
“WhoisGigi?” Dru-Ann asks.
Caroline shrugs. “Someone from my mom’s website. Nobody’s met her in real life. Not even Mom.”
“Wow,” Dru-Ann says. “That sounds sketchy.”
“I mean, no offense, but this wholeweekendis sketchy.” Caroline finally grants Dru-Ann some eye contact. “My father just died, and my mother is flexing with this whole five-star festival. She’s having me film it for her website so people can… what? See that she’s moving on? See her and her friends dancing at the Chicken Box?”
“Hey,” Dru-Ann says. “Take it easy on your mom. It’s giving her something positive to focus on.”
“It’s too soon.”
“I don’t think that’s for either of us to say. She was lonely, she wanted people around. She wanted you around.”
“It’s a gimmick for her website,” Caroline says. “She wants clicks.”
“Caroline, I’m your godmother, and I know that means I’m supposed to take your side, but in this case, I would ask that you grant your mother some grace. She’s been through a lot.”
“I’vebeen through a lot.” Caroline stares at her computer screen. “My mother’s just going to get married again and move on.”
Dru-Ann is searching for some words of wisdom—but who is she kidding? She has proved useless at communicating with twenty-somethings—when an alert lights up Caroline’s phone next to her on the desk. Dru-Ann sees her own name.
