Chapter 12: Southampton

I said yes.

Nicholas asked me why on the drive back to the city.

"Because I know what she's going to do," I said. "This time I'll be watching."

The Hartley summer house in Southampton was white shingles and green lawn running down to the dunes.

On the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend there were lanterns in the trees and a band on the terrace and two hundred people in linen.

Nicholas parked his truck between two convertibles.

"Rules," I said.

"Rules."

"I don't eat anything. I don't drink anything. I don't go anywhere alone with her."

"And I don't leave your side."

"And you don't leave my side."

He held up his scarred hand.

The girls from prep school were standing by the bar.

They watched me walk in and one of them said something behind her hand.

The other two laughed.

I kept walking.

Bryant was on the terrace steps with a drink, talking to two cousins.

He saw me and his smile went flat.

He didn't come over.

A photographer in a black vest was working the lawn, a big camera with a flash on top.

Shelby's mother had hired him, someone said, for the society pages.

I made sure I knew where he was.

Shelby found us twenty minutes later.

She was in white, of course, with her hair loose and a gold cuff on one wrist.

She was holding two glasses of champagne.

"You came," she said. "Oh, I'm so happy."

She held one glass out to me.

Everyone near us was watching.

If I refused it, I was the one who wouldn't make peace.

I took it.

The glass was cold and wet in my fingers.

"To starting over," Shelby said, loud enough for the lawn.

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