Brooke gazes at Dru-Ann with wide, dopey eyes and a trembling lip. “You’re not attracted to me? You just said I was a fun date. And the way you were dancing with me made me think…”
Was Dru-Ann dancing suggestively with Brooke? Maybe a little, but it was in good fun, because she thought Brooke was straight. She certainly hadn’t meant her dancing to be a come-on. She danced with Brooke the way women who are having fun dance with each other!
Dru-Ann’s phone bleeps—the UberXL is a minute away. Praise the Lord, she thinks. She collects her trash and pulls Brooke to her feet. “Our ride is here.”
In the dark back seat of the Uber, Brooke falls asleep with her head on Dru-Ann’s shoulder. As they drive down the long and winding Polpis Road, Dru-Ann tries to imagine what Hollis will say when Dru-Ann says, Brooke kissed me in the parking lot of Sophie T’s. With tongue! She chuckles as she pictures the expression on Hollis’s face.
This weekend is just full of surprises.
40. Should I Stay or Should I Go?
When Gigi gets back to First Light, the dog, Henrietta, growls at her, and Gigi sighs. “I know you hate me and you have every right.” She gets a glass of ice water and heads down the hall to Hibiscus Heaven. She changes out of her jersey dress and into a T-shirt and running shorts, and then she packs her bags.
She can’t believe what happened at dinner. That woman, Electra. I’m certain we’ve met somewhere.
Gigi has to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
She climbs into bed but she can’t sleep. She lies there for over an hour before she hears voices in the kitchen. Hollis and… Tatum, it sounds like. They’re giggling. Gigi hears the suck of the refrigerator door, the crinkle of a bag of chips. Drunken late-night snacking and gossip that Gigi would ruin if she interrupted, though Hollis would be kind enough to pretend otherwise.
Eventually the voices grow fainter and Gigi nods off—but she’s awoken a little while later when she hears Brooke and Dru-Ann stumbling down the hall. It sounds like Dru-Ann is helping Brooke to bed.
“Here’s water and a couple of Advil. Trust me, you’re going to want them.”
“But you’re not mad at me. Not mad at me, right? I’m soooooo, so, so, so sorry.”
“No, I’m not mad. Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, you won’t remember any of this.”
Gigi hears Brooke’s bedroom door click shut and Dru-Ann sigh. Gigi reaches for her phone. There’s a text from her neighbor Tim. How is it going??? Does she know? Are you going to tell her? Give me tea!
Gigi types, Fine, no, I’m not sure—then deletes it. How dull.
She types, Well, I’m still here! And she hits Send, thinking, But who knows what tomorrow will bring.
41. All Rise
At eight o’clock the next morning, Henrietta the Serbian sheepdog is the only one awake. This is highly unusual: Hollis sleeps in only on New Year’s Day or when it’s pouring rain.
Henrietta needs to go out. She takes a quick trot through the kitchen—there’s no breakfast, not even coffee brewing; what is going on here?—and considers her options. She can nudge open the back screen door with her nose—she’s tall enough—but she’ll have to bark to get back inside. It will be better to simply find Hollis.
Henrietta pads into Hollis’s room and hears her soft snoring. Henrietta hates to wake her; for months after Matthew died, Hollis barely slept at all. But Henrietta has no choice. She pants in Hollis’s face; her breath is so horrid (she’s been told this repeatedly), it will wake Hollis up.
Except it doesn’t, so Henrietta resorts to licking. This sometimes results in a swat across the nose, but this morning, Hollis just laughs, grabs Henrietta’s face, and starts kissing her.
“Hello, beauty!” Hollis says, springing from bed. “Do you have to whiz?” She throws on a robe, and Henrietta follows her out to the back deck. The sun is fully up and the dew has already dried off the grass but there are still a lot of good morning smells. Before Henrietta goes to investigate, she turns back to look at Hollis, who is hugging herself with an inscrutable smile on her face.
What has gotten into her? Henrietta wonders.
Tatum wakes up in Fifty Shades of White to find half a bag of Doritos on the nightstand. Are there orange fingerprints on the duvet? Yes, a few—but a little baking soda and lemon juice will get them right out. (Irina Services has taught Tatum a hack for every domestic oops.) Tatum can’t believe Hollis and Jack got caught in the Round Room by Kevin Dixon! Hollis said that at first, she thought it was Tatum and Kyle coming to prank them. Tatum is disappointed she didn’t think of this because that would have been a good one. But Dixon showing up is better. What must he have thought?
Tatum allows herself a moment to imagine a future where Jack and Hollis get back together and live on Nantucket with Tatum and Kyle.
Then she touches her breast. The biopsy spot is no longer sore but Tatum knows the tumor is still there, like a rotten spot in an otherwise perfect apple.
She can’t think about the future until Monday.
Brooke wakes up with a pounding headache. There’s a glass of water and some Advil on her nightstand. She props herself up on an elbow and swallows the pills, then collapses back into the luscious pillows.
She kissed Dru-Ann last night. Although Dru-Ann didn’t kiss her back, it wasn’t a total loss. The secret Brooke has been keeping is out. She, Brooke Kirtley, is out.
It feels good in a way Brooke can’t quite explain. For her entire adult life, Brooke has felt like a puzzle piece with gaps around the edges—off-kilter, a little wonky, not quite right.
But last night, finally, she snapped into place.
Hollis is just calling Henny in—she should get some coffee brewing and set out granola and the fruit salad—when she sees Gigi walking over the footbridge. Gigi gives Hollis a sheepish wave.
Predictably, Henny begins to growl. Hollis takes her by the collar and swats her rump. “Would you stop it, sister? Gigi is our guest. She’s our friend.”
Gigi shrugs. “She’s entitled to her opinion.”
“Did you get home okay last night?” Hollis asks. “I should apologize for what happened at the end of dinner. That woman used to be a friend of mine but something happened and we no longer speak.”
“It’s fine,” Gigi says quickly. “And yes, I found a taxi straightaway and was home in a jiff, thanks.” She steps past Hollis and dips her feet into the shallow bath before reaching for the screen door.
“Can I get you some coffee or fruit?” Hollis asks. “Granola?”
“All set, thanks,” Gigi says. “I’m still a bit tired. I’ll probably hang in my room this morning.”
“Oh,” Hollis says. “Okay.” She’s the first to admit she doesn’t know Gigi that well, but she can tell something’s off. Where is the sunny, cheerful Gigi who’s ready for anything? She’s probably exhausted by all the drama—and can Hollis blame her? “Is everything all right, Gigi?”
“Yes,” Gigi says, though she barely turns around. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
When Dru-Ann wakes up in bed under the bubble chandelier staring at the vintage George Nelson sunburst clock on the opposite wall, she thinks, I’m never leaving the Twist.
What, after all, does she have to go home to?
She’ll ask Hollis if she can stay another week, maybe two weeks. Hollis will probably want to be rid of them by tomorrow, but once Dru-Ann tells Hollis she’s been fired from her life, Hollis will have to say yes.
Dru-Ann makes an espresso and wonders how Brooke is feeling. That poor woman. She never has orgasms with her husband because she isn’t into men!
Dru-Ann is just programming the Peloton—she always rides with Jenn Sherman on Sundays—when her phone dings with a text. That, she thinks, will be Brooke, begging her not to tell anyone. Dru-Ann has already realized she can’t tell Hollis what happened in the pizza shop’s parking lot. It isn’t her news to share.
But the text is from Nick. Well, well, she thinks. He lives.
It says: Phineas tied for the lead.
Dru-Ann squawks and opens her laptop. Sure enough, Phineas Pine and Rory McIlroy are tied at eight under going into the back nine.
He had a dream he was going to win, Posey said.
Given all that has happened, does Dru-Ann care about any of this? Phineas playing the British Open is the whole reason Dru-Ann is where she is. In theory, she should want him to lose—and badly. But instead, she feels excited. Is Phineas mentally tough enough to beat McIlroy? Nine holes is a lot of golf. If he gets overconfident, he might bogey a hole or three. Dru-Ann sees that Hovland is at six under, and he’s known for finishing strong. This is far from over. Coverage in the U.S. starts at noon, which is when they’re going to lunch. Damn.
Should Dru-Ann respond to Nick? If he’s letting her know about Phineas, then she’s at least on his mind.
She’ll take that as a win, she thinks—and she hops on the bike.