Marissa storms off.

Leo sighs. “We aren’t getting married.”

“Thank God,” Carson says.

“Thank God,” Lucinda says. “I hate to say it but her mother is never getting into this club. Gordy Hastings finds her brash.”

“You’re far too young to be talking about marriage,” JP says. “My advice is to wait as long as you can. There’s no reason to marry your high-school sweetheart. I’m sure Marissa is just the first of many girls for you.”

Willa can’t believe her father just said that! She kicks Rip under the table. “I’m getting the chicken,” she says to no one.

“Are you going to check on her?” Savannah asks Leo. “Or would you like me to do it?”

“She’s fine,” Leo says. He reaches for a dinner roll. “She does this all the time.”

She does this all the time, but this is the last time, Leo thinks. After dinner he’s going to drive Marissa home and end things. For good.

Marissa does come back, her nose pink and her eyes moist, and Dixie appears like someone heaven sent to take their order, so no one has to ask Marissa if she’s okay.

Willa needs air, so after she asks for the Statler chicken and Rip requests the sirloin, medium (he’s been ordering this for dinner at the club since he was five years old and can’t be persuaded to try anything new, but Willa views this as a sign of his innate loyalty), Willa says, “We’re walking to the water. Be right back.”

“I’m coming with you,” Carson says.

“Stay put,” JP directs, and Leo feels his airway constrict because he wanted to go with Willa and Rip too. The atmosphere at the table is stifling.

Willa and Rip stroll hand in hand over the clipped green lawn, past the flagpole and the cannon—shot off each night at sunset—to the water’s edge. Willa has a vision of them a year from now at this same dinner, only they’ll be parents. Right? This pregnancy is going to thrive. It has to.

“I ordered wine because—”

“I know why,” Rip says. “It was a good idea.”

“Drink some of it for me when we go back.”

“I will,” Rip says. They gaze across the harbor, listening to the piano music coming from inside the clubhouse—“Falling in Love Again”—and admiring the soft blue and gold sky, the sailboats bobbing on the water.

“I miss her,” Willa says.

“I know.”

“It’s fun to have Savannah here,” Willa says. “But do you think there’s something going on between her and my dad?”

“Would that be so bad?”

“I just can’t wrap my mind around it,” Willa says. “Savannah belonged to my mother.”

“I’ll point out the obvious,” Rip says. “People don’t belong to other people.”

“Tell that to Marissa,” Willa says.

Marissa, Rip thinks. She’s having a tough night and it’s about to get tougher. Rip has some bad news about the claim her mother is trying to file with Marissa’s Jeep.

They turn around and walk back to the table. Rip waves to someone over Willa’s head. When she turns, she sees Pamela and Zach on the tennis court.

“That’s nice. Your sister and Zach are playing tennis together,” Willa says, the wheels in her mind turning.

“I’m sure she’s eating him alive,” Rip says. “He has no serve.”

Willa and Rip have just returned to their seats when the bartender appears at the table.

“I just wanted to say congratulations,” he says.

“Why, thank you,” Lucinda says.

The bartender looks confused. “I mean, because I saw that Golden Girl went to number one on the New York Times bestseller list.” He seems to be speaking specifically to Carson. “You must be proud.”

Carson is impressed. Marshall brushed up on his bestsellers and he had the guts to approach Lucinda’s table unsolicited.

“We’re so proud,” Carson says. “Thank you for acknowledging it.”

“I don’t know what the young man is talking about,” Lucinda says.

“Oh, you do so, Lucy,” Penny Rosen says. “We went over this on Sunday. Vivi’s new book went to number one.”

Marshall hovers at Carson’s place. “I went to the Oystercatcher to see you last night. Must have been your night off?”

Carson can’t let him go any further. She hasn’t told anyone in her family that she’s been fired, and now, over two weeks later, no one has asked, not even Leo, who lives with her. The only person who paid attention to Carson’s comings and goings is dead.

“I’ll swing by to chat after we’ve finished,” Carson says.

“I’d love it. Until then, I’ll be admiring you from afar.” He touches her shoulder, then turns and says, “Happy birthday, Mrs. Quinboro.”

“Thank you,” Lucinda says. Then to Penny: “That’s more like it.”

A moment later, Pamela and Zach Bridgeman stop by, sweaty in their tennis whites.

“Happy birthday, Mrs. Quinboro,” Pamela says.

“We don’t mean to interrupt your dinner,” Zach says. His expression, Carson can see, is strained, but his agony can be nothing compared to her own. The inside of her mouth becomes chalky; there’s a bright, piercing pain in her chest. They were playing tennis together? This is hard evidence of their reconnecting, she supposes.

“Who won?” Carson asks.

“I killed him,” Pamela says.

“I have no serve,” Zach says. “I’m fat and out of shape.”

“Me too,” JP says.

“Me three,” Savannah says. “Kudos to you, though, Zach, getting out on the court.”

“You look good to me!” Carson sings out. She winks at him and everyone at the table chuckles. She can’t believe her own audacity—and she’s completely sober. But she isn’t going to let him appear at her family dinner as though everything is just fine.

He doesn’t even look at her; he simply steps back with a raised hand, and Pamela takes the hint. They both head over to the bar and plop themselves in front of Marshall.

Carson needs a drink. Badly. But she won’t let Zach break her. She’s stronger than that.

Their entrées arrive; they chat about the food and how it hasn’t changed in fifty years; they discuss how busy it’s been at the Cone and talk about Savannah’s upcoming trip to Brazil.

“You should go along,” Lucinda says, nudging JP’s elbow. “I always wished the two of you would get together when you were younger, but it never happened.”

“That’s right,” JP says. “I married Vivi.”

“And had us,” Carson says. “Your beloved grandchildren. If Dad had married Savannah, we wouldn’t be here, Grammy.”

The silence that follows seems interminable.

Leo gets up to use the restroom, then Carson and Willa disappear as well. Seeing his chance, Rip slides over next to Marissa. “I hate to talk business at dinner,” he says in a low voice. “But I need to give you a heads-up that insurance isn’t going to cover your Jeep at all, not one penny.”