Elin Hilderbrand - The Castaways

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.”

“God bless them,” the woman said. “And God bless you!”

“Thank you,” Phoebe said. She didn’t want any congratulations and she did not want to be thought generous. Naming the trail had cost her $225,000. But she and Addison had money just sitting in the bank accruing interest, and they had nothing meaningful to spend it on. Phoebe wanted to give Greg and Tess a piece of Nantucket; she wanted the twins to be able to walk the savannah trail and see the beauty of the island and feel like Tess and Greg were still alive. Or if nothing that mystical happened, fine, at least the twins would feel like their parents had been remembered and honored. Phoebe had come up with the idea in her sleep. She had been thinking of Reed and the scholarship at Whitefish Bay High School and how happy it made her father, Phil, to hand a graduating senior a check for six thousand dollars each spring.

Phoebe shook hands with five eager-faced strangers standing in a semicircle. She bumped into Dr. Richard Flanders, the school superintendent, who enveloped her in the folds of his considerable person. She could smell his aftershave, and her right arm was cut off from the rest of her body, and she feared her missing arm was going to spill her champagne, or even drop it.

“That’s a great thing you did,” Flanders said.

Phoebe said, “Thank you.”

This didn’t feel right. She should have donated the money for the path anonymously, but that hadn’t been possible because of the Tess and Greg connection. So now she was saddled with her good deed; it was making her uncomfortable in a way she hadn’t predicted.

She saw her people, her dear friends and her husband, huddled together with their backs turned aggressively to everyone else, including the server, who was trying to offer the Chief a stuffed quail egg. They were talking among themselves in a serious, deliberate way that Phoebe had seen before. They had talked that way when Tess and Greg died; they had talked that way when Tess lost her baby; they had probably talked that way on September 11 when they realized Reed had died. They had closed ranks and were speaking in undertones.

Phoebe suddenly understood why they had the rule of no gifts. It was too complicated emotionally to give and receive things when there were so many tight, overlapping connections between the eight of them. They were too close, and gifts required fairness and reciprocity. Here you go, this is for you. Oh, thank you, I love it. A simple idea, but not simple with them. Gifts would inevitably cause a mess. Phoebe had caused a mess. They found her gift offensive. They were offended that Phoebe had thought of this tribute and then executed it without their input. Andrea-of course!-would never allow Tess’s and Greg’s names to be attached to something without her approval. Addison would be pissed because Phoebe had spent nearly a quarter of a million dollars without asking him. (But she was prepared for this; some of that money was money that she’d earned herself, and then invested wisely with Reed.) Still, Tess had been Addison’s lover, he was the executor of the will; Tess and Greg belonged to him. And they belonged to Andrea. But that, in a way, was why Phoebe had done this secretly. Tess and Greg had been Phoebe’s friends, too, and she wanted to honor them her way, without input from the people whose connections to them were believed to be more important.

Phoebe broke into the circle, ready for her flogging. Sure enough, Andrea was crying.

“I’m sorry,” Phoebe said.

Andrea swiped at her nose. “It was beautiful,” she said. “A beautiful gesture.”

Jeffrey said, “Delilah is going to kick herself for missing it.”

Addison pulled Phoebe in close and kissed her temple. “You’re a genius,” he said.

By nine o’clock she felt she had done her duty. She had drunk two glasses of chardonnay, she had eaten six hors d’oeuvres, she had listened to Phoebe’s speech, which honored Tess and Greg in a way that Andrea herself should have thought of had she not been so pathetically inward-looking, and she had wept a few tears without breaking down. She had even danced with Eddie to their favorite Sinatra tune. In Andrea’s mind, she deserved a bronze star for outstanding courage.

But now she was ready to go.

“Already?” Ed said. “It’s only five minutes to nine. The band is playing until midnight.”

The thought of having to hold herself together for three more hours nearly brought Andrea to her knees. “I want to go home,” she said.

“Another hour,” Ed said.

“Now,” Andrea said. “Poor Kacy-”

“Delilah’s not even here yet, so poor Kacy nothing. And when the twins do get home, she’ll put them to bed and make fifteen dollars an hour for watching TV.”

“Ed,” Andrea said, “I can’t stay.”

Addison approached them, holding a drink. He was glassy-eyed.

“Are you drunk?” Andrea said.

“Exhausted,” he said. “I haven’t been sleeping.”

“Something on your mind?” the Chief asked.

Addison said, “If I thought I could sneak out of here without Phoebe’s beheading me, I would.”

“My savior,” Andrea said. “Will you take me home?”

The Chief’s eyes lit up. “Would you mind?”

“Not at all,” Addison said.

“You’re okay to drive?” the Chief asked.

“I’m okay.”

“I’ll drive,” Andrea said.

“Are you coming back?” the Chief asked Addison.

“Not if I can help it,” Addison said. “Phoebe has her own car. She came early, she has to stay late.”

“I’ll stay with Phoebe,” the Chief said. “And Jeffrey. And Delilah is coming.”

“She better be,” Andrea said. “She doesn’t get a free pass to miss this if I don’t.”

“We’ll cover for you,” the Chief said. He kissed Andrea goodbye.

Andrea took off her shoes and walked barefoot with Addison to his car. Addison was whistling, as happy as she was to be sprung free. They climbed into his Mercedes, which had deep, soft seats and the intoxicating smell of expensive leather. There was an empty highball glass in the console.

“You drank on the way out here?” she asked.

He said, “Don’t tell the Chief.”

She said, “Well, please don’t kill us on the way home.”

He said, “Would it really matter if I did?”

She looked out the window, at the moors rushing by. It was a beautiful night, there was a moon, the party had been nice, Phoebe’s gift was inspired-and yet Andrea had a hard time feeling anything. Would it matter if she died tonight?

She said, “Tess had a lover.” Her breath put a mist on the car window.

Addison said, “Do you want to come to my house and have a glass of wine?”

“Okay,” she said.

Phoebe was the star of the evening, and it was good to see. She was glowing like her old self. She caught Jeffrey’s eye, pulled away from a group of people he didn’t know, and glided over to him. Her dress was silver, and her eyes picked up some of the sparkle.