41. All Rise
At eight o’clock the next morning, Henrietta the Serbian sheepdog is the only one awake. This is highly unusual: Hollis sleeps in only on New Year’s Day or when it’s pouring rain.
Henrietta needs to go out. She takes a quick trot through the kitchen— there’s no breakfast, not even coffee brewing; what is going on here?—and considers her options. She can nudge open the back screen door with her nose —she’s tall enough—but she’ll have to bark to get back inside. It will be better to simply find Hollis.
Henrietta pads into Hollis’s room and hears her soft snoring. Henrietta hates to wake her; for months after Matthew died, Hollis barely slept at all.
But Henrietta has no choice. She pants in Hollis’s face; her breath is so horrid (she’s been told this repeatedly), it will wake Hollis up.
Except it doesn’t, so Henrietta resorts to licking. This sometimes results in a swat across the nose, but this morning, Hollis just laughs, grabs Henrietta’s face, and starts kissing her.
“Hello, beauty!” Hollis says, springing from bed. “Do you have to whiz?”
She throws on a robe, and Henrietta follows her out to the back deck. The sun is fully up and the dew has already dried off the grass but there are still a lot of good morning smells. Before Henrietta goes to investigate, she turns back to look at Hollis, who is hugging herself with an inscrutable smile on her face.
What has gotten into her? Henrietta wonders.
Tatum wakes up in Fifty Shades of White to find half a bag of Doritos on the nightstand. Are there orange fingerprints on the duvet? Yes, a few—but a little baking soda and lemon juice will get them right out. (Irina Services has taught Tatum a hack for every domestic oops.) Tatum can’t believe Hollis and Jack got caught in the Round Room by Kevin Dixon! Hollis said that at first, she thought it was Tatum and Kyle coming to prank them. Tatum is
disappointed she didn’t think of this because that would have been a good one. But Dixon showing up is better. What must he have thought?
Tatum allows herself a moment to imagine a future where Jack and Hollis get back together and live on Nantucket with Tatum and Kyle.
Then she touches her breast. The biopsy spot is no longer sore but Tatum knows the tumor is still there, like a rotten spot in an otherwise perfect apple.
She can’t think about the future until Monday.
Brooke wakes up with a pounding headache. There’s a glass of water and some Advil on her nightstand. She props herself up on an elbow and swallows the pills, then collapses back into the luscious pillows.
She kissed Dru-Ann last night. Although Dru-Ann didn’t kiss her back, it wasn’t a total loss. The secret Brooke has been keeping is out. She, Brooke Kirtley, is out.
It feels good in a way Brooke can’t quite explain. For her entire adult life, Brooke has felt like a puzzle piece with gaps around the edges—off-kilter, a little wonky, not quite right.
But last night, finally, she snapped into place.
Hollis is just calling Henny in—she should get some coffee brewing and set out granola and the fruit salad—when she sees Gigi walking over the footbridge. Gigi gives Hollis a sheepish wave.
Predictably, Henny begins to growl. Hollis takes her by the collar and swats her rump. “Would you stop it, sister? Gigi is our guest. She’s our friend.”
Gigi shrugs. “She’s entitled to her opinion.”
“Did you get home okay last night?” Hollis asks. “I should apologize for what happened at the end of dinner. That woman used to be a friend of mine but something happened and we no longer speak.”
“It’s fine,” Gigi says quickly. “And yes, I found a taxi straightaway and was home in a jiff, thanks.” She steps past Hollis and dips her feet into the shallow bath before reaching for the screen door.
“Can I get you some coffee or fruit?” Hollis asks. “Granola?”
“All set, thanks,” Gigi says. “I’m still a bit tired. I’ll probably hang in my room this morning.”
“Oh,” Hollis says. “Okay.” She’s the first to admit she doesn’t know Gigi that well, but she can tell something’s off. Where is the sunny, cheerful Gigi who’s ready for anything? She’s probably exhausted by all the drama—and can Hollis blame her? “Is everything all right, Gigi?”
“Yes,” Gigi says, though she barely turns around. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
When Dru-Ann wakes up in bed under the bubble chandelier staring at the vintage George Nelson sunburst clock on the opposite wall, she thinks, I’m never leaving the Twist.
What, after all, does she have to go home to?
She’ll ask Hollis if she can stay another week, maybe two weeks. Hollis will probably want to be rid of them by tomorrow, but once Dru-Ann tells Hollis she’s been fired from her life, Hollis will have to say yes.
Dru-Ann makes an espresso and wonders how Brooke is feeling. That poor woman. She never has orgasms with her husband because she isn’t into men!
Dru-Ann is just programming the Peloton—she always rides with Jenn Sherman on Sundays—when her phone dings with a text. That, she thinks, will be Brooke, begging her not to tell anyone. Dru-Ann has already realized she can’t tell Hollis what happened in the pizza shop’s parking lot. It isn’t her news to share.
But the text is from Nick. Well, well, she thinks. He lives.
It says: Phineas tied for the lead.
Dru-Ann squawks and opens her laptop. Sure enough, Phineas Pine and Rory McIlroy are tied at eight under going into the back nine.
He had a dream he was going to win, Posey said.
Given all that has happened, does Dru-Ann care about any of this?
Phineas playing the British Open is the whole reason Dru-Ann is where she is. In theory, she should want him to lose—and badly. But instead, she feels excited. Is Phineas mentally tough enough to beat McIlroy? Nine holes is a lot of golf. If he gets overconfident, he might bogey a hole or three. Dru-Ann sees that Hovland is at six under, and he’s known for finishing strong. This is far from over. Coverage in the U.S. starts at noon, which is when they’re going to lunch. Damn.
Should Dru-Ann respond to Nick? If he’s letting her know about Phineas,
then she’s at least on his mind.
She’ll take that as a win, she thinks—and she hops on the bike.
Caroline hears her phone buzzing on her nightstand but she’s in that stage of sleep where she feels like she’s underwater and can’t move. The buzzing stops and Caroline descends back into her slumber like a stone falling to the ocean floor.
Her phone buzzes again and for whatever reason, Caroline jolts awake.
Okay, okay, I’m here. She grabs her phone.
Sofia.
“Hello?” Caroline says. She knows she’s supposed to lie to Sofia—or maybe she’s supposed to tell the truth; she can’t remember.
“Caroline?” Like Isaac, Sofia pronounces her name “Caro-leen.” From
her, it’s annoying.
“Yes, Sofia, hi, good morning.”
“Caroline, you didn’t call me back last night.”
Caroline sits up, clears her throat. Can she take a tone with Sofia? She can, she decides. “I know, Sofia. I’m filming here on Nantucket. I’ve been too busy to call, I’m sorry. What’s up?”
“We have to talk about Isaac.”
“Is he okay?” Caroline asks with faux concern. “Did something happen?”
“He was unfaithful to me.” Sofia’s voice is so filled with conviction that fear leaps like a flame inside Caroline’s chest. Was Isaac mistaken? Does Sofia suspect Caroline?
Caroline takes a breath. She can do this. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sofia. He would never be unfaithful. He loves you.”
“Love and sex,” Sofia says, “are two different things.”
Ouch, Caroline thinks. She says nothing. To speak, she thinks, is to reveal herself.
“Who was at the loft while I was in Sweden?” Sofia asks.
“Nobody,” Caroline says.
“Nobody except you?”
“Right,” Caroline says. “Nobody except me.” Her mind races. The loft doesn’t have a doorman and they don’t have neighbors Sofia can check with who will tell her they saw Caroline leaving very late at night or sometimes
not at all. Do they?
“And he gave you his camera?” Sofia says. “His tripod? His drone? Isaac doesn’t give anyone his equipment, and certainly not a puny intern.”
Puny? Caroline thinks. “He did. I needed to borrow them for the weekend.”
“Yes, he told me. You’re filming something for your mother, he said. A family reunion.”
Caroline shakes her head. Whatever. She’s not going to explain the Five- Star Weekend to Sofia, that’s for damn sure. “There was nobody in the loft the whole time you were away,” Caroline says. “I would tell you if there were.”
Caroline hears Sofia exhale; she’s smoking.
“I would suspect you and Isaac together, but…” She laughs. “That is so silly!”
Caroline bristles. It was anything but silly, Sofia. Your boyfriend and I had —have—real feelings for each other. And the sex was incandescent.
“Obviously very silly,” Caroline says.
“Yes, because I saw your post last night with the other boy. Such a smoke-show. I show it to Isaac. He agreed the two of you look beautiful together.”
Caroline and Dylan do look beautiful together in that picture on Instagram —but Instagram isn’t real life. In real life, Dylan was using Caroline to make Aubrey jealous. Caroline received a spate of texts from him after she left the
Box.
Are you okay?
Aubrey is just really jealous of you, she has been since high school.
I’m going to take her home, maybe talk with her in the morning about trying again. LOL, my parents won’t like that. They hate her. But it will be better for O-Man.
It was fun hanging out this weekend. Ty!
Caroline composed several responses, which ranged from Are you kidding me right now? to This tracks, you two totally deserve each other. But in the end, the text she sent said: No prob. She doesn’t care about Dylan McKenzie in any meaningful way. It probably will be better for O-Man to have his parents back together, and if Caroline helped facilitate that, good. It gives her
enormous satisfaction that she is the person Aubrey Collins is jealous of.
Sofia says, “I’m going to do a better job loving Isaac. I’m going to travel less and no more clubbing.” She inhales, exhales. “Maybe get married, have a —”
“That’s great, Sofia,” Caroline says. Sofia has speared Caroline’s heart with her stiletto; she can’t bear to hear another word. “I’ll be back Tuesday, see you then!”
“Maybe we can go to dinner, the three of us,” Sofia says. “You can tell us about your special weekend.”
Absolutely not, Caroline thinks, but she says, “Okay, ciao!” and hangs up.
A second later, she’s tempted to call Sofia back and say, It was me! It was me with Isaac! But she won’t. She will let Sofia and Isaac be happy. She will let Dylan and Aubrey be happy.
She’s left with… her funny little project. And to that end, Caroline drags her ass out of bed. She wants to talk to Brooke.
