“Nice to meet you, too.” I smiled back, honestly meaning it. Her manner seemed so sincere.
“Come back soon,” she called after me. “Next time your coffee’s on the house.”
“Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” I assured her.
“I own the place, so I get to make all the decisions. Even if they’re bad ones.” She cracked herself up with that observation, making me chuckle too as I waved and headed out. That did seem fun, owning your own business, making your own decisions, no one to answer to but yourself. But I needed to slow down. This time yesterday I hadn’t thought at all about opening up my own dance studio. I couldn’t start acting on crazy impulses. I needed to think things through.
Already nearly four o’clock, I picked up the pace as I walked the remaining distance to the country club. It wasn’t far, nothing was on the island, but it was fenced off with heavy security for members only and most members arrived in cars. I was sure I looked a little scraggly in my tank top, shorts and uncombed hair, but once I introduced myself as Mimi Douglas’s daughter, they rolled out the red carpet for me, even offering to drive me the remaining 300 yards in a golf cart.
“I’m OK,” I deflected their offers for assistance. I guessed a lot of the members were elderly, but come on. I was 25, how lazy would that be?
Whitney was already out on the veranda enjoying a drink oceanside. “Fee!” she called out my prep school nickname, standing to give me air kisses. “I thought you’d never come.”
“Am I late?” I wasn’t wearing a watch, but last I’d checked my phone I had plenty of time.
“I’m just eager to catch up!” She sat herself down, looking dainty and polished in a Lily Pulitzer tunic. “Look at you! So au naturale!” She scrutinized my look, hair tucked behind my ears, not a lick of makeup on my face. I was sure I looked plain to her, but I just didn’t care. I ordered a seltzer water, earning a scowl—no one liked to drink alone—and settled in to a long, gossipy update from her on everyone who was anyone.
“No one could believe it!” she declared, looking at me for the appropriate reaction. I hadn’t been listening. I’d been watching a cluster of birds bob and weave with the surf.
“That’s amazing,” I echoed her tone, taking a sip of my water.
She scrutinized me, suspicious. “You seem different.”
“Really? I don’t feel different.” Not yet, anyway. I wanted to, though, very badly.
“I can’t put my finger on it.” She gave me another moment of consideration, then dismissed the thought. “Anyway, it’ll be good to have you here this summer. Theo’s losing his mind. He couldn’t shut up about you after dinner the other night.”
“Are you two together?” It just occurred to me to ask. They seemed like they’d make a perfect couple.
“As if!” Whitney laughed a bit too loudly. “He’s like my brother. Hello, incest!”
“OK.” I didn’t press, but her denial felt a bit forced.
“What I was trying to say is he’s already planning a huge party on his yacht this weekend. To impress you, of course. You’ll come, won’t you?”
“Sure,” I answered automatically, though I already knew it wouldn’t be my scene.
“Perf. We can head over together if you want.”
“Great.” My auto-responses proved enough to propel her forward into more gossip. I was either going to have to get a hell of a lot more interested in what Whitney had to say, or I was going to need to make some new friends on the island. I felt impatient for the latter. But I guessed large-scale change didn’t happen overnight. I just wanted to have a conversation where I could say what was really on my mind.
A couple of gorgeous, well-dressed women around our age came over to join us. I took the excuse to exit.
“Nice to see you, Whitney. I have to get going.” I offered one of my replacements my chair. She took it without giving me much of a glance.
“No, stay!” Whitney said, but her heart wasn’t in it. One of the new women was already launching into a juicy story that had her attention riveted.
The walk back to my bike seemed to take longer. I felt so restless. I needed my new start to begin right then, that second, only I didn’t know what to do to make it happen. The habits of my life were deep and my instinct responded so easily to them. Without strong opposition, I’d simply float along in response to the strong current of social and family obligations.
If I didn’t watch it, I’d probably end up in a relationship exactly like my last one, looking perfect from the outside but perfectly empty inside. I think George had thought he’d discovered the ideal girlfriend, pretty, elegant and never there. My real partner was dance. I’d always been up and out the door for rehearsals and performances, occasionally on the road touring. We never had to spend much time together at all. When we were together, he’d enjoyed having me on his arm for social events, the prima ballerina, so gorgeous and poised. Exactly lik
e the decoration on top of a cake.
Unlocking my bike, I swung onto it and headed for home, picking up more speed as I traveled along the path. The activity felt good. I did miss the punishing workouts, losing myself to sweat and physical exertion through dance. Maybe I’d keep biking, past my house, around the piers, along the yacht club and up to—
Who was that driving past me in a truck? Distracted, I steered myself hard left, directly into a sand bank before the guardrail. Managing to get my feet down on the ground to steady myself, I brought my hands to my racing heart. Thank God I was the only person on the path at that moment.
Who had that been driving past on the road? That strong jaw and those broad shoulders. Something about the way he palmed the wheel, the way he looked relaxed yet ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice. It had looked like Liam.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. I was going nuts, driving into guardrails and hallucinating. It made sense, being back on the island and meeting that nice woman Regina who knew my brother. All of it made the past mingle with the present. Of course I was imagining seeing my long-lost love driving along in a truck. Meanwhile he was probably miles away, maybe hundreds or thousands of miles away.
After a few deep breaths, I started cycling again, slower this time and straight home. My heart was still pounding in my chest when I got back, even after I poured myself a glass of water and sat out on the porch looking at the ocean. But I felt too restless for sitting, so I wandered around the house, prowling as if searching for something. My mother had family photos all over, mostly from when Margot, Ian and I were children. She had some professional photos displayed of me in my starring roles wearing so much makeup I barely recognized myself.
Then I realized, she didn’t have a single photo of Ian in his wheelchair. He’d been in one for the last 13 years. No wonder he felt so depressed he’d hidden himself away across the ocean. His own mother was ashamed of him.
I needed to get out of there. I needed to make a change. Palms sweating, fingers shaking, I pulled out my phone and checked the number on the photo. I didn’t know where it would lead, but it might be a start.