“How should I know?” David said, without turning around.
“Has she been hanging out with your dad?” she asked, incredulous, remembering the Bentley pulling up on their street.
“Forget about her. Let’s have a drink,” David said, holding up a bottle victoriously.
“Happy Fourth,” he said tapping the side of her glass with his own. She raised the glass to her lips as David watched, not caring that it burned her throat. Orla had waited all summer for three years to spendtime alone with David. But it didn’t feel the way she hoped. When the glass was empty she let David pour her another. She drank it faster this time, the buzz was helping her forget that Alice was there too. She drank until the alcohol erased the image of the thick hand on her friend’s knee and the sick feeling that something was happening up there that shouldn’t be.
“Can I have your attention, please?” Geoffrey Clarke begins. “I promise you this won’t take long. I want to begin by welcoming you to my home. We may not be full-time residents like some of you lot, but Hadley has always been a special place for the Clarke family. When my grandfather built this home, he imagined it being a place of leisure. A place where the great men of the world would come to relax, to put their feet up and look out at the water. Where they could be away from the prying eyes and gossip of Manhattan and spend time like normal people.”
Normal people, ha. He means where no one will watch them, Orla thinks. David puts a charming smile on his face, but it is easy for Orla to spot his discomfort. His face is drawn, his eyes darting as if looking for an escape. As if sensing David’s reluctance, Geoffrey’s hand comes down on his shoulder, pinning his son in place. Geoffrey clears his throat.
“I’ve been reflecting on that a bit more lately, perhaps because I am going to retire soon. So, I’d like to take this moment to reintroduce my son, David,” Geoffrey says. Orla looks at David, confused. “Most of you know him from when he was a boy. But he’s grown into quite an adult. He is going to be taking over the business. Oh, whoops, cat’s out of the bag! It seemed like as good a place as any, surrounded by our nearest and dearest. Now, instead of me stepping back, I like to think of it as David stepping forward.”
He is interrupted by the sudden blast of a boat’s horn. People clutch at their chests and laugh, looking out at the water, where the yacht musthave let out some sort of congratulatory honk. Geoffrey raises his glass and grins. Orla’s skin crawls.
“As I was saying, my son here—my pride and joy—has graciously agreed to take the helm as of next year,” Geoffrey says to a burst of obligatory applause. David’s eyes find Orla’s. They go wide with surprise and then narrow at her as if to say,What are you doing here?She raises her glass to him, in fake congratulations. Is that true anger she sees on David’s face now? It is gone in a flash as Geoffrey continues.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I will still be steering the ship. I’ll just be a backseat driver. Though it may be from theOphelia II.”
The yacht’s horn toots again as though laughing at his bad joke.
Sycophantic chuckles float around her. David shifts back and forth onstage. Orla can see, even from way down on the lawn, the sweat on his forehead starting. So, he never got out from under his father’s thumb like he said he wanted to as a kid. It should make Orla sad for him, but she has a flood of satisfaction wash through her. Like it was all preordained. David was never going to do anything other than what he did, and Orla wasn’t ever going to be anything other than a failure. It makes her feel surprisingly calm.
“I’ll have another,” she calls out to the bartender, drawing a few glares from people around her. He doesn’t hear her.
“There is one more announcement before I leave you all to your oysters and champagne. Faith, where is Faith?” Geoffrey shields his eyes theatrically, squinting into the crowd. They begin to look, too, their curiosity piqued.
“Who doesn’t love the sound of that name? So innocent and hopeful. Faith: an old-fashioned girl with a heart of gold.”
A rush of servers fill the lawn holding trays of champagne glasses.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Orla says, taking a flute off a tray as it passes.
“Ah! There she is. She’s a sneaky one.” Geoffrey points to a place just in front and to the left of Orla. Orla swivels her head along with the rest of the crowd, searching. How could she not? She stands on her tiptoes trying to spot her, David’s chosen one. Orla’s chest drops whenshe spots Faith in profile—glowing, flawless. Her doe-shaped eyes wide. A stricken look takes over her delicate features and then a moment later is gone.
“Don’t be shy, Faith. Come on up here!” Geoffrey commands. He waves his hand impatiently.
Faith makes her way up the stairs. Her gown, a blue silk printed with an explosion of yellow flowers, ripples across her body as she takes her place next to David. They look so uncomfortable up there that Orla almost pities them.
FAITH
The crowd parts for Faith as she makes her way up to the gazebo. She feels their eyes on her as she passes through them like a princess in a fairy tale. Or is she Marie Antoinette, heading to the chopping block?
She stumbles up the steps to the platform, where the two Clarke men stand waiting.
As soon as she reaches the top, David’s hand is on her elbow leading her, or she wonders if maybe he’s preventing her from leaving.
“Surprise,” he whispers in her ear as he guides her to the edge of the gazebo, the vibration of his voice sending a shiver through her.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Faith. She has been David’s guest here on the island. We hope we haven’t scared her off.” Geoffrey bares his teeth into a tense smile. He holds his champagne glass aloft. He is daring her to make a move.
The air rushes from Faith’s lungs. She looks out at them all. A sea of strangers. But something is off about all of it.
“What’s going on?” Faith says under her breath, keeping her smile in place.
“I wanted to surprise you,” David whispers back, but a sheen has appeared on his forehead. A strange clench to his jaw.
“Let’s get on with it, shall we?” Geoffrey booms, raising his arms out to the partygoers like some sort of circus conductor.