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“Where’s Russel?” Charlotte asked, glancing back toward the crowded foyer.
“Gail, Abby, and Russel should be on their way.” Claire had left them in a quiet house, Gail and Abby in their separate bedrooms and Russel in the computer room, tending to their stocks.
“You’re taking the girls back on the fifth?”
Claire nodded. “I tried to bribe them into staying a little bit longer. They told me some baloney about needing to attend their college classes in order to graduate.”
“Isn’t it terrible? We should have forbidden our girls from growing up when we had the chance,” Charlotte said.
Zach burst from the kitchen doors. He’d changed out of his chef whites and into a pair of dark jeans and a black turtleneck, and he scouted through the throng of Montgomerys and Sheridans to find his wife, Christine. Christine had their baby, Mia, in her arms, and Zach knelt to kiss Mia gently on the cheek. Claire had a memory of Russel and her girls when they were that small. He’d carried them both at once, one nestled gently in each of his arms, and walked up and down the hallway until they’d fallen asleep. Claire had called him the baby whisperer.
The Sheridans had hired bartenders for the New Year’s Eve party. They were dressed in little tuxedos and scouting through the guests, asking for drink orders or passing out champagne. Charlotte and Claire both took flutes and clinked them together.
“Remember when we used to drink sparkling apple juice on New Year’s?” Charlotte said.
“I remember pretending to be tipsy,” Claire said, “and giggling so much that Dad yelled down the hall for us to be quiet.”
Charlotte sipped her champagne contemplatively. Claire had the urge to ask if Charlotte was happy out there on Orcas Island and if it was worth moving so far away from home. Was her love for Everett really that strong?
Then again, Claire worried that if she said something like that, Charlotte would see the holes within Claire’s own life. Maybe she would ask: don’t you believe in love anymore?
And Claire would be forced to reckon with that question. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough.
“Look! Rina’s back.” Charlotte bowed her head toward the slender woman with a brunette bob, who clutched a glass of champagne nervously and stayed close to Steve, their older brother.
“What did she say at Thanksgiving?” Claire tried to remember. “Something about going to Oaxaca?”
“I think she had a case down there,” Charlotte said. “Steve said she found who she was looking for. Some husband who’d decided to run out on his kids again. But I didn’t know she was coming back.”
Rina was a private investigator from California. Last spring, she’d come to Martha’s Vineyard to look for a young woman who’d disappeared. Steve and his daughter, Isabella, had eventually helped her crack the case and bring the young woman home. Despite clear attraction between Steve and Rina, it wasn’t clear to the rest of the family if they’d made anything official. Steve had lost his wife, Laura, in September of 2022— a little less than a year and a half ago. He remained in grief therapy. He and his family continued to reel.
“She’s patient,” Claire affirmed. “Waiting for Steve for so long like that.”
“Steve’s special,” Charlotte muttered. “Of course, he’s mum on the subject. Andy pestered him for information about their relationship, and he just grunted and walked away.”
“Typical Steve,” Claire said. “He’s just like Dad.”
A second later, Gail’s voice shot through the crowd. Claire went on high alert, knowing her daughter was in distress.
“Won’t you cut it out?” Gail rasped angrily. “I told you. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Claire and Charlotte exchanged worried glances. Claire slipped through the crowd, between Andy’s wife, Beth and Christine and Susan, to find Gail, Abby, and Rachel near a long table of hors d’oeuvres. It wasn’t surprising that the three of them were together. Since birth, Charlotte’s daughter, Rachel, had been sort-of a stand-in triplet. They’d had what felt like thousands of sleepovers, birthday parties, beach days, hikes, spontaneous dance parties, and sing-alongs.
But now, Gail’s cheeks were cherry red, and she glared at Rachel and Abby, her arms tightly crossed over her chest. Claire had never seen her daughter look at her twin and cousin like this.
“Hey, girls?” Claire said, forcing all three pairs of eyes toward her. “Did you just get here?”
Gail’s shoulders slumped forward. While Rachel and Abby were in sparkly dresses, Gail wore a pair of ratty jeans and a black sweatshirt. She’d lined her eyes with thick charcoal as though she’d just stepped out of a goth music video.
Rachel wore an uneasy smile. “Happy New Year, Aunt Claire.”
Gail huffed, turned on her heel, and shot through the crowd, heading toward the foyer. Claire watched her go, her heart pounding in her throat.
“Is Gail feeling all right?” Charlotte asked.
Rachel and Abby exchanged a mysterious glance. Together, the three of them had a silent language that Claire and Charlotte didn’t understand.
“She’s okay,” Abby stuttered. “It’s just been a weird day.”
