Greer looks at him sharply. “Well. There are sandwiches in the kitchen.”
“What’s going on, exactly?” Tag asks. “We’re still waiting to speak to the detectives.”
“I had my interview with the fellow from the state police,” Greer says. “I daresay, he has it in for me—”
“For you?” Benji says.
Greer waves a hand. “I’m not sure what they’re thinking. The Nantucket Chief just called to ask what inn Featherleigh is staying at.”
“Featherleigh?” Thomas says. “What the hell does she have to do with anything?”
“Well,” Tag says, “she was the last person to see Merritt.”
“Was she?” Greer asks.
“She was?” Thomas says.
Tag turns away from all of them and goes to pour his own scotch at the bar cart. “I believe so,” he says, looking into his glass before drinking. “Yes.”
“Wasn’t Featherleigh with you?” Greer asks. She sounds more interested than accusatory. “Didn’t you take her out for a ride in the kayak?”
“Featherleigh?” Thomas says. “Why would Dad take Featherleigh out for a ride in the kayak? She’s hardly the seafaring type.”
“I didn’t take Featherleigh out in the kayak,” Tag says.
“You didn’t?” Greer says.
“I didn’t,” Tag says.
“You took someone out for a kayak,” Greer says. “The kayak, the two-person kayak, was left overturned on the beach. With only one oar. And we all know nobody else used it.”
Benji sinks into one of the leather club chairs and throws back what’s left of his scotch. He doesn’t like where this is headed. Here is his nuclear family, his parents and his older brother. They are the Winburys, a very fortunate group, not only because of their money, position, and advantages, but also because, by the standards of today, they are “normal.” A happy, normal family; a family, he would have said, without secrets or drama.
But now he’s not so sure.
He speaks to the room. “Who did you take out in the kayak, Dad?” He thinks back to what Celeste said, that someone in his family had made a very, very grave mistake.
Benji stands up. “Dad?”
Tag is facing the bar cart. He has one hand on his glass and one hand wrapped around the neck of the Glenmorangie. Greer is watching him. Thomas is watching him. They’re all waiting for an answer.
His voice is barely a whisper but his words and tone are clear.
“Merritt,” he says. “I took Merritt out in the kayak.”
KAREN
Karen wakes up with a start. The sunlight is pouring through the windows, bright and lemony. She was supposed to be up at eight thirty to help Celeste get ready, but she can tell it’s much later than that. She reaches over to check her phone. It’s half past noon.
Karen shrieks and sits up in bed. Bizarrely, there’s no pain. No pain? Her last oxy was late last night, but still, that was twelve hours ago. On a normal day, her nerve endings are screaming after seven or eight hours.
“Bruce?” she calls out. His side of the bed is empty but—she reaches out a hand—still warm.
She hears him retching. He’s in the bathroom. The blackberry mojitos and the scotch must have caught up with him. The toilet flushes, the water runs, and then Bruce comes into the bedroom. He looks smaller, she thinks. And ten years older.
He comes to sit next to her on the edge of the bed.
“Karen,” he says. “The wedding has been canceled.”
“Canceled?” she says. Somehow, she already knew this, but how? She tries to piece together the events of the night before. Celeste had wanted to stay home but Bruce and Karen had encouraged her to go out. They wanted her to enjoy herself.
Celeste!
Karen had had a bad dream—she was trying to find Celeste but couldn’t get to her. And then came the revelation: Celeste didn’t want to marry Benji. Karen had tiptoed down to Celeste’s room; it had been empty. She had gone downstairs. She had overheard the strange, awful conversation between Bruce and Tag.
Robin Swain.
Karen shakes her head. Last night, the confession about Robin Swain had seemed so devastating, but this morning, her shock and horror have vanished, just like her pain. Human beings experience all kinds of crazy and unexpected emotions while they are alive. Robin Swain was nothing more than a tiny blip on the screen of their distant past.
“Celeste doesn’t want to marry Benji,” Karen says.
“No, Karen,” Bruce says. “That’s not it.”
But that is it, Karen thinks. She has never once said this, but she does believe she is naturally closer and more in tune with Celeste than Bruce is. Celeste is Bruce’s little girl, no doubt about that, but he doesn’t understand Celeste’s mind like Karen does.
“Merritt died, Karen,” Bruce says. “Celeste’s friend Merritt. The maid of honor. She died last night.”
Karen feels like her head is going to topple right off her neck and onto the floor. “What?” she says.
