She hurried over to him. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “Where’s Delilah?”

He frowned. He had a prominent brow, which knit itself into an expression Phoebe couldn’t read. Exasperation? Fear?

“She didn’t come?” Phoebe said.

“She’ll be here,” he said. “She’s coming late.”

“May I have your attention, please?” Jennifer had taken the microphone from the bandleader and was standing in the middle of the dance floor, waiting for the crowd to quiet down. Someone tapped a glass with a spoon. There were overlapping shushing noises. Shhhhhhh. Phoebe turned, panicked. Wait! Delilah wasn’t here! She wasn’t here yet, she was coming late, but not before Phoebe had to speak. Phoebe scanned the crowd for Addison, Andrea, and the Chief—where were they? She couldn’t find them. When she had imagined this moment, she imagined the five of them lined up across the front. She imagined making her announcement and watching their faces pop open in private fireworks, happiness, surprise, joy. Maybe they would cry poignant, touching tears. Now this wouldn’t happen. Would it still be okay? Phoebe had planned this party so thoroughly, every detail, down to the selection of the hors d’oeuvres, the choice of songs, the color of the balloons. And yet she hadn’t been able to make things go the way she wanted them to.

“First of all, I’d like to thank everyone for coming. This is a very special night…”

Phoebe looked at Jeffrey. He lifted a cocktail off a passing tray and took a deep drink.

“There are so many people we’d like to thank. For the delicious food and wine, Mark and Eithne Yelle of the Nantucket Catering Company…”

Phoebe looked around. She saw a splash of red in the corner of the tent. Andrea? Was the Chief with her? Would they move forward when it was Phoebe’s turn to speak? And where was Addison? Phoebe now rued her decision not to tell him what she’d done, but she had wanted him to be surprised, just like everyone else.

“I’d like to thank Sperry Tents, and the Perri Rossi Orchestra…”

Applause.

“But the real force behind tonight’s festivities is our dedicated chairperson. This woman gave hours of her precious time, as well as donating her considerable talent, her keen eye for detail, and her unparalleled organizational skills…”

They had a rule in the group: no gifts. They’d had that rule from the beginning.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mrs. Phoebe Wheeler!”

Applause.

As Phoebe made her way to the front, the people standing around her cleared a path. She would be okay; she’d had only one glass of champagne, and she hadn’t succumbed to the lure of the valium. She would stay focused. Delilah wasn’t there, but Phoebe couldn’t worry about that now. Her heart was thudding, she had a case of the shakes. Deep breath! She took the microphone. It had been a long time since she had spoken in public, but she could do it. She had won a fifty-dollar savings bond in the Junior Miss pageant for poise and appearance. Poise! She had stood on her high school stage and announced Reed and Shelby Duncan as prom king and queen.

“Thank you,” Phoebe said. She gazed out over the crowd. Faces, collars, necklaces, cleavage, hands holding drinks, legs, shoes, hairspray, perfume, cigarette smoke, Jack Daniels. They were just people, they all had hearts and lungs and tear ducts just like she did. She saw Andrea and the Chief in the back corner with Addison. Jeffrey approached them. No Delilah, but Phoebe couldn’t let her mind wander. “As you know, one of the goals of Island Conservation is to create nature walks through our properties where such walks are appropriate, where families can best learn about the topography and the flora and fauna of the island without disturbing it. We have long wanted to create such a walk here on the savannah.” She paused. She did not look at Andrea or Addison; she looked up front, at Jennifer beaming, at Jennifer’s husband, Swede, at Hank who owned the sailboat and his glamorous French girlfriend, Legris. “In June, I lost two dear friends in a sailing accident. They were schoolteachers here on the island, who left behind seven-year-old twins.” The crowd quieted. The tent was silent; three hundred people held their breath. “And I decided I would like to honor my friends by underwriting the cost of the savannah nature walk and naming it after them. So in September, work will begin on a three-mile loop that will be known as the Tess and Greg MacAvoy Nature Walk.” Phoebe smiled. Had she said that correctly? She thought she had. There was thundering applause; someone whistled. Phoebe had an ending line: I hope you and your families will treasure this walk in years to come. But there wasn’t going to be a chance to add this. The orchestra launched into Dionne Warwick’s “Walk on By” (as Phoebe had requested), and Phoebe relinquished the microphone.

She stepped back into the crowd and Jennifer hugged her and handed her a fresh glass of champagne. “We are all so excited about this!” she said.

Phoebe felt like she was going to faint.

She said, “I have to find…” and she wandered away.

She meandered through the crowd, but these were her fifteen minutes of fame, she was the party’s It girl, people wanted to talk to her.

A woman with butterscotch-colored hair in a beauty parlor do grabbed her arm and said, “My God, Phoebe, you’re such an angel! Doing something like that in memory of your friends. And their children. Are the children still here? On island?”

“Yes,” Phoebe said. “They live with their aunt and uncle now.”