“I just came from church,” Caylee says. She produces a bouquet of hydrangeas from behind her back. “A woman on Main Street was selling these, and I thought of you.” She drops the bouquet in what looks like defeat. “I know it sucked for you to have your former friends come into the store like that… but Ainsley, you shouldn’t be drinking. You’re only sixteen.”

Ainsley’s mouth falls open. She can’t believe Caylee isn’t being chill about this.

“I’m serious, Ainsley,” Caylee says. “Put that bottle back where you found it.”

“It’s mine,” Ainsley says.

“It’s not yours,” Caylee says. “You just came out of your grandmother’s house. Obviously you stole it…”

“I didn’t steal anything!” Ainsley says. “This is where I live.” She swallows; it feels like there’s a walnut caught in her throat. “You should probably go. Leave. Get off my property.”

“I’ll happily go,” Caylee says. “But I’m calling Harper to tell her.”

“Tell her what?” Ainsley says. She raises the bottle in defiance. Honestly, she is so angry, so indignant, that she would like to smash it on the ground. “This is mine!”

“Ainsley.”

“I thought you were my friend!” Ainsley says. Tears pool in her eyes, although the last thing she wants to do is cry in front of Caylee.

Suddenly Caylee’s arms are around her. “Hey,” she says. “I am your friend. Which is why I’m going to insist you put the vodka back. I’ll go with you.”

Ainsley takes a deep breath. She wants to inform Caylee that she can’t insist Ainsley do anything. Caylee isn’t her boss; Caylee isn’t her mother, her aunt, or her sister. Caylee shouldn’t even be working at the boutique. All Ainsley has to do is call her mother, and Caylee will be fired. But when Ainsley opens her mouth, she starts to sob. She is so upset and so, so heartbroken. Teddy breaking up with her was one thing, but then she got suspended from school—how is that going to look on her transcript?—and her friends betrayed her. Emma and Candace egged her house! But even so, when the two of them walked into the ERF boutique, Ainsley was pathetic enough to let her hopes rise. There was no doubt the party they had thrown at the boutique was cool. That it might have been cool enough to lure her friends back in wasn’t something Ainsley had considered until she saw them stroll through the door. But they had only come to shoot Ainsley between the eyes with a poison dart about Teddy and Candace. Teddy was taking Candace to Ventuno for dinner, a place he had promised to take Ainsley because his uncle Graham’s girlfriend, Marcella, waited tables there and would let them order wine. Or maybe that was just Teddy talking big—it probably was, but even if there was no wine there would still be candlelight and beautiful Italian food and Teddy across the table, holding Candace’s hand and admiring the flower in her hair.

And on top of all that, Ainsley’s mother left, her grandmother left, and her father won’t return her calls. Whom is she left with? Aunt Harper and Ramsay, both of whom feel sorry for her, she’s certain.

She lets Caylee lead her back up the stairs of her grandmother’s house. Caylee waits in the doorway while Ainsley places the Grey Goose on the bar cart. Caylee pulls a tissue out of her clutch and hands it to Ainsley, who wipes her eyes.

“Can you come to Ram Pasture with us later?” Ainsley asks.

“I’m going to Nobadeer with my other friends today,” Caylee says. “Besides, I don’t think Ramsay would want me on your beach excursion.”

“Why not?” Ainsley says. “I thought you guys were still friends.”

“We are,” Caylee says. “But I think he’s interested in your aunt.”

“My aunt?” Ainsley says.

“That’s the sense I get,” Caylee says.

“Oh,” Ainsley says. She’s not sure what to think about that. She misses Ramsay terribly and would like him back in her life, but it wouldn’t be fair if Ramsay started dating Harper. Poor Tabitha! “Well, thank you for these.” She sniffs the flowers. “And thanks for stopping by.”

“How about we grab breakfast one morning next week?” Caylee says. “I know a great little place. It’s kind of a secret.”

“Okay,” Ainsley says. She’s embarrassed by how much the invitation thrills her—but then she worries that Caylee sees her as a charity case, an ostracized teenager without any friends. She could turn Caylee down—she doesn’t eat breakfast—but her loneliness gets the better of her. “How about Wednesday?”

HARPER

They decide to take Harper’s Bronco to Ram Pasture.

“It’s the quintessential beach buggy,” Ramsay says. “I will finally be one of the cool kids.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Ainsley says.

When they load up the Bronco, Harper feels like she’s part of a family. Ramsay is the father figure, Harper the mother, Ainsley the child, Fish the dog. It’s a peculiar sensation. Harper is no one’s mother, Ramsay is no one’s father, and Ainsley is no longer really a child. Fish is, at least, a dog. Maybe because the construct is artificial, it feels fun—like playacting. Ramsay loads up three chairs, half a dozen towels, the Sunday New York Times, a brand new Carl Hiaasen novel, and a Frisbee. Just seeing the Frisbee causes Fish to bark.

Harper is in charge of food and drink. She has made grilled-chicken BLTs, a classic picnic macaroni salad she threw together, sliced sugared peaches, and lime sugar cookies. She fills a cooler with lots of cold bottled water.

“And this,” Ramsay says, handing her a bottle wrapped in a paper bag.

It’s a bottle of Rock Angel rosé. Harper rolls her eyes. “You, too?”

“I thought all chic women liked to drink rosé at the beach. Your sister loves it.”

“I’m not my sister,” Harper says. “Normally I drink beer, but my stomach has been funny lately.” The truth was, she had nearly vomited up her breakfast that morning; she constantly feels dizzy and unsettled, like she’s just stepped off a carnival ride.

“Let’s just take it,” Ramsay says. “Please?”

Harper unsheathes the bottle and plunges it into the icy bath of the cooler. She won’t make a big deal about it. Today will be pleasant. Today they will be like a family from a storybook, one without conflicts, one without vices, one without history.

They drive the Bronco out Madaket Road, and Ramsay shows Harper where to turn left. They turn onto the dirt and sand of Barrett Farm Road; it takes them on a winding, slightly bumpy journey over an open plain that reminds Harper of pictures she’s seen of the African savanna. This is nothing like the Vineyard. The Vineyard has hills and trees—both pine forest and lush deciduous stands. Nantucket, by comparison, is flat, with low-lying vegetation that makes it easy to see the blue ribbon of the ocean in the distance. There’s a pond on the left and bushes of Rosa rugosa with their lovely pink blossoms. She sees a red-tailed hawk circling overhead. Has that hawk ever made the trip eleven miles west to the Vineyard? she wonders.

She misses Reed. The pain is constant, a heartache, a gut ache. He has moved out and stopped working at the hospital. Nobody knows where he is. Is he thinking about Harper? Is he thinking about anything other than Harper? Does Sadie know where he is? Does she call him? Do they talk? Is his leave from the hospital permanent? Has he been fired? If he has been fired, will he work elsewhere, and if so, where will he go?

Is he eating? Drinking? Smoking? Reading? Riding his bike?

Did Harper ruin his life? Does he blame her? That’s what she really wants to know. Their relationship—the affair—was a mutual decision, as much his as hers, but Reed may feel he has paid more dearly than she has for their indiscretion.

Harper would like to tell him that she, too, has paid dearly. She lost her job. She shredded what was left of her reputation. But what hurts the most is that she lost him.

She wonders if the relationship would have fallen apart on its own with Billy’s death. The circumstances that knit them together would have changed. What would they have had in common?