There are three navy beach umbrellas shading five teak chaises swathed in navy-and-white-striped towels and a long table that, Caroline assumes, will soon be set up with lunch. She lowers the drone in for some close-ups.
Tatum’s chaise is out in full sun; she’s reclining, her face raised defiantly to the sky.
Brooke’s chaise is in the shade; she has covered her legs with a towel and she’s wearing a long-sleeved rash guard over her suit. She pulls a book from her bag and cracks it open.
Gigi is the only one of the women wearing a bikini. It’s solid turquoise with strings. Gigi’s stomach is perfectly flat with gently defined obliques. (She must do side planks, Caroline thinks.) She has on a matching batik pareo, which she whips off and ties to her chaise. She’s wearing her gold chains, her bracelet and watch, her straw fedora, and sunglasses. Effortlessly chic. The drone approves, and apparently so does Brooke. Her gaze lingers on Gigi for a prolonged second—Girl crush? Caroline wonders—then Brooke tightens the blanket around her legs like a cocoon.
Dru-Ann is out in the water swimming, and when she yells, the other women snap to attention. Dru-Ann points to a sleek, dark head twenty or thirty yards away.
Gigi jumps up from her chaise and Hollis follows. They both walk toward the water.
Caroline maneuvers the drone out over the ocean. There’s a seal frolicking in the waves. Caroline is tempted to send the drone farther out on an exploratory mission. Would she find other seals or something more sinister? She loves the symbolism: Is something lurking out there, threatening the seemingly idyllic weekend?
Gigi and Hollis gravitate toward each other until they’re standing side by side, watching Dru-Ann. Then Gigi points up at the drone, and she and Hollis both smile and wave. Caroline presses the Return to Home button. When viewed from above, her mother’s weekend is undeniably flawless.
Hollis’s eyes drift down to Gigi’s feet in the sand. Her toenails are painted a red so dark, it’s nearly black, and she’s wearing a gold toe ring. Every aspect of Gigi is beautiful, Hollis thinks. Even her feet.
Hollis and Gigi drift down the beach until they’re out of earshot of the others.
“How are you doing?” Gigi asks.
It’s ironic that, of all the women, Gigi feels the most like a confidante to Hollis. She’s tempted to tell Gigi about Tatum’s biopsy, Dru-Ann’s public relations disaster, Brooke’s rampant insecurities, and the issues between herself and Caroline. But that’s just… a lot.
She says, “While you all were shopping, I went to breakfast with my first love.”
Gigi gasps. This is not what she expected Hollis to say. “You did?”
“I did,” Hollis says, and she’s relieved that Gigi doesn’t seem to be as horrified as Caroline was. “I broke every rule in the Five-Star Weekend handbook.”
“I’m not sure there is a handbook for this weekend,” Gigi says. “Or, rather, I’m not sure there should be any rules. We’re grown women with agency; we can all make the best decisions for ourselves.” Waves wash around their ankles. “Tell me about him. Or… her?”
“Him,” Hollis says. “Jack Finigan.” She sighs. How to begin? When Jack was thirteen years old, before his voice even changed, he rode his dirt bike all the way out to Squam on the weekends, and upon his arrival, Tom Shaw put him to work raking leaves, collecting kindling for the woodstove, fixing the overhead fan in the cottage’s only bathroom. In exchange for Jack’s help, Tom let Hollis and Jack hang out on the beach unsupervised for an hour. They kissed for the first time in the dunes not far from where Hollis and Gigi are now.
In high school, Hollis and Jack strolled the halls with their hands tucked into each other’s back pockets. They were frequently told to stop making out at their lockers (PDA wasn’t allowed in school), but eventually the teachers gave up. Jack got his driver’s license and bought a used pickup truck with money he saved over the summer, and he and Hollis drove into the moors at night. They found a clearing in a circle of trees that they named the Round Room, and this was where they always parked. (Once they got stuck in soft sand, and once their battery died, and both times, Kyle and Tatum came to their rescue with a tow rope and jumper cables, respectively.) They listened to Sticky Fingers on repeat on the tape deck, always rewinding and replaying “Wild Horses” three times.
“That sounds like something out of a movie,” Gigi says after hearing all this. “So American.”
“Oh, it was,” Hollis says. But the summer before their senior year, Tatum and Jack and Kyle started talking about “the plan.” Hollis agreed to the plan—but she didn’t take it seriously the way the rest of them did.
Hollis and Gigi have walked so far down the beach that Sankaty lighthouse is visible in the distance. “We should probably head back,” Hollis says.
They turn around and Hollis says, “Thank you for talking. Not only today but after Matthew died. You were a lifeline for me. I hope you know that.”
“I’m glad I could be some comfort,” Gigi says. She is glad, isn’t she? Yes, but she can’t pretend she was acting out of altruism. She isn’t that delusional.
“Why…” Hollis pauses. “Why did you agree to come this weekend? Didn’t you think I was nuts, inviting you when we’d never met?”
“It did feel a little… risky,” Gigi says. “But you and I have a connection. When you asked, it felt like the right thing.”
“You said at dinner that you were in a relationship but it ended,” Hollis says. “Was that around the same time I lost Matthew?”
“It was around the same time,” Gigi says. She’s being reckless now. She’s basically asking Hollis to figure it out: The person I lost is the same person you lost. That is our connection.
“I thought so,” Hollis says. “There was a point in our DMs where you went dark for a while, and I figured something must be going on with you.”
Yes, Gigi “went dark” right after Hollis confided in her about what had happened on the morning of Matthew’s death—how angry she was that he was missing their holiday party, how they’d quarreled. Hollis had said she was afraid Matthew was going to leave her. She’d left a voice mail for him and sent a text, both saying she loved him, but she had no idea if he’d received them. This had thrown Gigi for a loop. Imagine being Hollis and not only losing your husband but having all of that unresolved emotional business.
You have to tell Hollis what happened! Gigi thought at the time. But that would only have made things worse. Why hadn’t she just cut Hollis off?
“I should have asked questions about your life,” Hollis says. “But I was completely self-absorbed. I do care about you, Gigi, and I’d love to hear more about what you went through.”
Gigi shakes her head. “It wasn’t quite the same as what you’re going through. The man I was with… we weren’t married and we didn’t have children together. But in a way, that makes it harder. I don’t have much to hold on to now that he’s dead except my memories… and I’m not sure if you’ve experienced this, but memories lose their clarity with time. I find myself wondering, Did that really happen?”
The now that he’s dead stops Hollis in her tracks. “Dead?” she says. “The man you were with died too?” Suddenly, she feels short of breath. Gigi’s boyfriend, partner, significant other—he died? Right around the same time as Matthew?
Gigi had meant to say Now that he’s gone, which could be interpreted more than one way. She can’t believe she said dead. By coming here this weekend, she was choosing to stand at the edge of a cliff, and now… what? She’s going to jump? She has approximately two seconds to correct course and say something like Dead to me, I mean, but that won’t work.
“He died, yes,” Gigi says.
“Hold on,” Hollis says. “Wait a minute.” She shakes her head and Gigi chastises herself for taking this walk. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Well, Gigi thinks. She has no words to offer in her defense. Any second now, Hollis is going to figure it out.
Hollis sucks in a breath. She’s confused, shocked; she feels weirdly deceived. All those other people on the website reached out to her with their stories of sudden, unexpected tragedy, but not Gigi. Gigi just sent the simple words I’m here to listen. And later she let Hollis spill her guts about losing Matthew, but she didn’t say a word about her own situation. Something isn’t right here—and Hollis fears that something is her. Gigi didn’t offer the information because Hollis never gave her a chance. Hollis assumed Gigi was being altruistic. And, worse, Hollis thought Gigi felt honored to be the person Hollis chose to confide in.
Caroline is right, Hollis thinks. She is a phony.
“I am so mortified,” Hollis says. “Everything you said to me was so insightful, so spot-on, exactly as if you’d been through the same thing. I should have guessed that you’d experienced a similar loss.” Hollis reaches out to touch Gigi’s arm and—is this her imagination?—she feels Gigi flinch.