The Chief palmed Tess’s phone. What did he know? The calls to Addison may have been calls to Phoebe. There might be text messages, text messages would tell him more… but the Chief had to stop poking around like this. What had happened out on the water? He would never know for sure. No one would ever know. The wondering would drive him crazy.

The Chief left the Coast Guard station and headed straight for the south shore, to Andrea. But the fact was, he needed to return to the station to deal with this procedurally. To talk about “procedure” right now would be to commit a sin that Andrea would never forgive, so he sat holding her tight, wondering how to transport her and where to take her. Home? Jeffrey and Delilah’s house? Greg and Tess’s house?

His third problem: the children, Chloe and Finn. There was a will somewhere, but had Greg and Tess named guardians? The logical thing would have been for Greg and Tess to name Andrea and the Chief as guardians, but the Chief did not recall ever being asked or consulted about this. Andrea was the godmother of both kids, but that didn’t mean anything beyond the scope of the church. Tess’s father, Giancarlo, was dead; her mother, Vivian, had Alzheimer’s and lived in a home in Duxbury. Tess had three older brothers, one living in Amsterdam with his Indonesian wife, one an undercover narcotics detective with the BPD, and the third the twice-divorced general manager of a Loews Cineplex in Pembroke. The only family Greg had that the Chief knew of was a sister in Vermont who was a weaver and who lived, romantically, with another woman.

He and Andrea would take the children.

The Chief’s fourth problem was everyone else. His own kids for starters, and the rest of the group—Addison, Phoebe, Jeffrey, Delilah—and everyone beyond. The community, the people at the schools, the entire island. The island would be shaken, devastated; people would come out of the woodwork with food, donations for the kids, and offers of help and support. The Chief had seen it before—when the eight-year-old boy shot himself in the face, it was the sheer number of people who had demonstrated acts of human kindness that made the Chief decide that no matter what happened, he would stay on this island forever. It was an island of good people.

The Chief slowly, carefully, got Andrea to her feet, wrapped her in a beach towel, and collected her things: the trash from her lunch, her goggles, her injured book. He pointed her toward the car, he held her up, he showed her how to walk. This way, up here, just a little bit farther, I’ve got you. His wife, whom he still loved deeply, hobbled along like she was ninety years old.

His fifth problem was his own grief. But he would deal with that later. There would be plenty of time.

DELILAH

It was Delilah who had come up with the name. The Castaways.

Why did they need a name? It was something street gangs did, and sororities. But Phoebe insisted. (Did Delilah need to point out here that Phoebe had been an Alpha Kappa Delta at the University of Wisconsin?) Phoebe had been in charge of organizing their first trip together, to Las Vegas. She was having hats made, baseball caps in denim blue with electric green embroidery. Las Vegas 2000 for the front, and over the vent in the back, Phoebe wanted a group name. In her life before meeting Addison, Phoebe had facilitated trips for Elderhostel USA. The Elderhostel groups had hats for each trip.

We need a name! Phoebe implored, clapping her hands.

They came up with a bunch of ideas, the most appealing of which was the Porn Stars, suggested by Greg—but then he let it slip that this had been the name of his first garage band. They dismissed it immediately on the grounds that they did not want to name themselves after any of Greg’s failed musical endeavors.

They tried to incorporate Nantucket, the island, the beach, the first letters of all their names, GATEPADJ, JEDAGATP. Nothing worked.

Delilah came up with the Castaways as she was falling asleep, which was when she had all of her brilliant ideas. She had always meant to keep a notepad on her nightstand so she could write her thoughts down, or words that would cue her thoughts. Even in this instance, she woke up not remembering her idea for the perfect name. But then it surfaced: the Castaways.

The Castaways: Because Delilah had run away from her parents and found Nantucket, because Jeffrey had inherited a farm from an uncle he barely knew, because Greg had played in a (different) band with a guy whose parents owned a house in Sconset, because Andrea had been recruited to be the head lifeguard in the summer of 1988 and where Andrea went, Tess was sure to follow. Because Addison had scoped out the community with the most valuable real estate on the East Coast, and he had brought his new bride, Phoebe. Because the Chief had been transferred from Swampscott to shape up the police department. They had all washed up on the shores of Nantucket, and they had stayed and made it their home. They had found each other.

Everyone agreed it was the right name. It was embroidered on the hats, and Phoebe was happy.

Back then, they had all been happy.

Las Vegas! Vegas, baby! What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas!

January 2000: They had been talking about traveling together for months, but it took forever to decide where to go, and when. They chose Vegas because it was the place in the world that was the most unlike Nantucket Island. Nantucket was historic, pristinely preserved and maintained, it was quiet, it was gray and staid and safe, it was an island surrounded by chilly waters, it was a Quaker woman wearing a dress with fifty eye-hook buttons and a wide lace collar. Vegas was flashing lights and cigarette smoke, it was overchlorinated swimming pools, bulimic slot machines binging and spitting up change, it was point spreads and neon signs and cleavage, marble floors, fountains, bourbon on the rocks, it was an island of electricity surrounded by orange dust, it was a nineteen-year-old showgirl wearing red fringe, five-inch stilettos, and pasties.