Chapter 18: Founders' Night

I wore my mother's green dress to the Grange hall.

It was too tight in the shoulders, and I wore it anyway, because she had worn it the last time she was happy.

The ledger was in a canvas tote under my arm.

The fourth scale was in my bra, against my skin, where nobody would think to look.

Two hundred people sat at one long table under strings of paper lanterns, passing casseroles.

Every one of them looked up when I walked in.

I knew them all.

I had sold them ferry tickets for six years.

Garrick Moss stood at the head of the table in a clean white shirt, with his thermos at his elbow.

"Marnie!" he called, and lifted his arms. "There she is. Our guest of honor."

Applause went around the room.

It was the warm, easy kind.

It was the kind you give a girl you feel sorry for.

I took the seat of honor on his right.

A plate of ham and potato salad appeared in front of me.

Under the table I set the tote between my feet and put my boot through the strap.

"You look lovely," Garrick murmured. "Just like your mother."

"Don't say anything about my mother."

"Of course." He patted my hand. "Eat. You'll need it."

I ate nothing.

I watched the room.

Aggie was not at the table.

Neither were the crab men.

The woman who owned the ice house sat halfway down, with her baby asleep on her shoulder, looking at her plate.

The man who ran the Grange hall sat across from her, red in the face.

I had read both their names in the ledger at four that morning.

Garrick tapped his glass with a fork.

The room went quiet at once.

"Friends," he said. "Neighbors."

"Another Founders' Night, and I'm a lucky man to look down this table and see all of you."

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