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She and Banks have been planning their shared birthday party for more than a month now (okay, full disclosure:Rubyhas been planning the shindig while Banks demurs repeatedly, insisting that he doesn't need a big event to celebrate turning fifty), and now the party is finally happening.
"Happy birthday," Sunday Bond says, approaching her best friend with a wrapped gift in hand.
"Oh, Sun!" Ruby turns to her and leans in for a hug. "I said no gifts, but you brought something."
"Come on," Sunday says, waving a hand as she smiles at people passing in twos and threes on their way to the party boat. "You knew I'd get you something. Plus it's nothing wild--just a token of my affection. Here." She thrusts the gift into Ruby's hands.
"Do I open it now?" Ruby looks at the small package in her hands. It's wrapped in the unmistakable Tiffany's blue box and tied up with a sheer white bow.
"Why wait?" Sunday says. "It's like eating dessert first, which, at our age, I think we can safely do without judgment."
Ruby smiles as she slips the white bow off the gift gently. "You think we're at that point where we can do anything and no one will raise an eyebrow? Fifty is the point where eccentricity is acceptable?"
"Oh, god, no." Sunday puts a hand on Ruby's arm. "We're not old enough for the Red Hat Society or anything."
Ruby tears the paper off the box. "Actually, I think we are."
"No, stop." Sunday frowns. "I swear you have to be like eighty or something to join that group, right?"
Ruby doesn't answer because she's just lifted the lid on the box to reveal a gorgeous silver pendant that looks like someone took a glassblower to a puddle of silver.
"It's the Taurus pendant," Sunday tells her hurriedly. "Because you're--"
"A Taurus. Of course." Ruby's eyes are glistening at the thought of her friend buying her something so significant for her fiftieth birthday. "Thank you, Sun. It's gorgeous. Will you help me put it on?"
Several more people board the boat with waves and hellos as Ruby takes the necklace from its box and Sunday clasps it around her neck for her. Ruby puts a hand over it, pressing it to her skin. "I love it," she assures Sunday, wrapping her hand around it and then patting the pendant one more time for luck. It actually goes perfectly with the white dress she's chosen for the evening, which has spaghetti straps and a loose neckline that's accentuated by a soft ruffle. The white shows off her Florida tan, and Ruby has twisted her blonde hair up and off her face, pinning it into a carefree pile that shows off her diamond stud earrings, and now her necklace as well.
Sunday reaches for the wrapping paper and box. "Good. Then let me take all of this off your hands and let you greet your guests." She leans in and kisses Ruby on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Rubes."
Ruby watches as her best friend walks to the edge of the boat and is helped onto the vessel by a deckhand in white pants and a navy blue polo shirt. Banks is waiting for his date there on the boat, already holding two glasses of champagne as Sunday boards.
For the evening, Ruby has convinced him to take the night off. Everyone who is invited onto the boat is someone known to Ruby, and she truly feels as though the season of her life where she needs a full-time Secret Service agent is dwindling to a close. Of course she has the right to have one and has no qualms about keeping Banks on staff as long as he wants to be there, but occasionally she feels a pang of guilt at having him live in her guest house and drive her around the island when he could easily be spending his days with Sunday, or on a boat relaxing.
"Happiest of birthdays to you, milady," Bev Byer says as he approaches Ruby on the dock. The sun is sinking lower in the sky with every passing minute, leaving a watercolor painting of citrus hues in its wake. Music is now coming from the speakers--70s and 80s hits, at Ruby's request--and the catering staff that Ruby has hired for the party are loading boxes and crates onto the boat with rapid efficiency as the guests wander around the deck holding their first drinks.
"Thank you, Bev." Ruby gives him a huge smile. Molly is walking down the dock behind Bev--ambling, really--and with her is Tilly, Bev's granddaughter and one of Ruby's bookstore assistants.
"Happy birthday, boss," Tilly says with a lopsided grin. Tilly is nineteen and entirely committed to Goth fashion and music, and tonight she looks like a young lady who is reluctantly escorting her grandparents on a dinner cruise as she walks behind her grandfather and next to Molly. "You don't look a day over thirty. Nine. And a half," Tilly deadpans.
Ruby laughs at this. "Thanks, Till. I'm glad you're all here."
"We're not here together, so don't get any ideas," Bev says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the women. "Apparently women no longer need escorts." There's an implied eye roll to his words.
"I have escorted myself all over this fine planet." Molly bristles, running a hand over her short-cropped hair. "I think I can now escort myself down the dock on the island I've inhabited for more than thirty years, and then find my way onto a boat to putter around the Gulf for a couple of hours."
Ruby shoots her a look, hoping that she might pick up on it. In Ruby's mind there's nothing wrong with letting a man have a win here and there; Bev escorting the ladies onto the boat does nothing to detract from their own power, but allows him the small win that comes with doing something nice for another person.
"I'll let you offer me a hand while I climb on board, Grandpa," Tilly says. This is uncharacteristic for a girl who likes to let the world know just how tough she is, and how little she needs anything from anyone. Ruby smiles at her gratefully. "But if I meet anyone single and under the age of twenty-five of either gender, then just know I would push you overboard for a chance to talk to someone young."
There's the Tilly I know and love, Ruby thinks, shaking her head as the three of them walk on, the women still kvetching as Bev leads the way to the boat.
Ruby has done her best to make this evening a fun event that both she and Banks can appreciate, but she knows that the most he'll stand for in the way of attention is maybe a cake with candles that they blow out together while everyone sings "Happy Birthday" to both of them. If there's one thing she's come to know and love about Henry Banks over the years, it's the fact that he hates to have attention focused solely on him.
The dock is clear of people now, so Ruby resigns her post as official greeter and heads for the boat herself. She's partway there when another, much smaller boat pulls into a slip and docks, its motor rumbling as it idles and a man steps off.
"Hey, birthday girl," the man says, waving at Ruby in the twilight. He's wearing loose khaki pants and a white linen button down shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway to the elbows.
Ruby squints at him; it takes a second for her to register the fact that Dexter North has just shown up to the island on a speed boat and is now walking towards her holding a bouquet of tropical flowers in one hand.
