The fudge brownie topped with ice cream and whipped cream goes around the table once, then twice, then Tatum announces that she’s finishing it. As she’s bringing the final bite to her mouth, she sees a familiar-looking couple sitting at a high-top on the patio outside the bar. Oh, boy, she thinks. It’s Terri and Ethan Falcone. (How can they afford to eat here? she wonders. The liquor store must be doing well.) Terri is staring down their table, saying something to Ethan. Tatum almost waves, but the last thing she wants is for Terri and Ethan to come over.
Tatum sits up a little straighter. Yes, Terri, I am wearing an orange Lilly Pulitzer dress eating lunch at Table 20 with Hollis Shaw. Deal with it.
Terri is definitely talking about them, Tatum can tell. But what is she saying?
“You know what I always think about when I see Hollis Shaw and Tatum Grover together?” Terri says to Ethan.
“What’s that?” Ethan says, pushing his plate away and splitting the remains of their second bottle of Domaines Ott between their glasses. This is the life, he thinks. Sitting in the sun, drinking good wine, enjoying a leisurely lunch. Terri is pretty tipsy; Ethan is hoping there might be some afternoon delight in his future.
“I think about how we lost the state softball championship our senior year,” Terri says. “Tatum dropped a ball in left field and the other team scored the winning run.”
Ethan nods. He has heard this story countless times. He’s tempted to sing Bruce Springsteen’s “Glory Days,” but Terri would not be amused.
“Tatum was always pranking people,” Terri says. “And there was a split second when I thought she was only pretending to drop the ball to fake us all out, doing a sleight of hand, you know, that she would pull the ball from her glove in the end. Because it looked like she had it. But then the next second, it was in the grass.”
“You think she dropped it on purpose?” Ethan says. This would be a new twist to the story.
“What reason would she have to do that?” Terri says. “Tatum is the most competitive person I have ever known. But even so, that drop has always bothered me.” Terri’s eyes are fastened on the other table. “Anyway, that’s what I think about.”
Ethan squeezes Terri’s hand. This is one thing he has always loved about his wife: In her heart, she is eternally seventeen.
Hollis asks for the check, but it takes forever—or maybe it only seems that way to Dru-Ann. She peeks at her phone under the table. Hovland is on the green at sixteen. The check arrives; Hollis hands over her credit card. Thank you, Hollis, everyone says, Dru-Ann belatedly.
There’s another lull, and Brooke, who has been unusually quiet throughout lunch, clears her throat and says, “I have something I’d like to share with you all, and it may come as a bit of a shock.”
Dru-Ann’s head snaps up. Is Brooke going to come out of the closet now?
But before Brooke can speak, there’s an interruption. A woman in a flowing pink-and-orange caftan comes billowing toward them from the beach. She’s wearing oversize sunglasses that Dru-Ann can only classify as “straight out of divorce court in the 1970s,” so it takes Dru-Ann a minute to realize that this woman is the same cray-cray from the night before.
The woman sails right past Caroline with her camera and steps up to speak to the ladies through the open side of the restaurant.
“Hey there, girls!” she says.
Hollis whips around and comes face-to-face with Electra. She’s wearing pink and orange. This is a joke, right?
Caroline zooms in as Electra Undergrove says hello, even though she and Hollis—and Brooke!—are no longer friends. They are, in fact, something like enemies. Electra is wearing a muumuu in the colors of the day. What the hell is going on?
Brooke scoffs. “You have got to be joking. You’re making an ass of yourself, Electra. Nobody wants you here.”
Hollis is impressed by Brooke’s moxie but the last thing she wants is a scene here at the Galley after they’ve enjoyed such a lovely lunch.
“We were just leaving, Electra,” Hollis says as she reaches for her purse. She catches Brooke’s eye to indicate they should stand up. That’s the solution: Walk away. Brooke pushes back from the table, but the other three women sit tight, staring at Electra.
“I just stopped by because late last night, I realized why you look so familiar.” Electra moves her ginormous sunglasses to the top of her head; she’s staring at Gigi. “I met you with Matthew in Atlanta. You two were coming out of the Optimist when my husband, son, and I were going in.”
What? Hollis thinks. Did she just say “with Matthew”?
“Please stop, Electra,” Hollis says. “Gigi never knew Matthew. Gigi and I became friends after Matthew died.”
Electra’s gaze is locked on Gigi. “It was you. You were with Matthew. I remember your face and I certainly remember your accent.”
Hollis says, “What is wrong with you, Electra? Why are you harassing us like this?” She scans the restaurant to see if there’s a manager who can intercede. But the restaurant is bustling, the staff is busy; Louis is across the room taking an order. No one is paying attention to them, and Hollis supposes she should be relieved.
“I just thought you should know,” Electra says to Hollis.
“Know what? That you’re a sociopath?”
“Know that this woman, your friend, your star, was with Matthew in Atlanta,” Electra says. “They were together.”
Hollis shakes her head. It’s absurd, impossible, and Electra is the consummate unreliable narrator. Hollis turns to look at Gigi, but Gigi’s chair is empty. Hollis sees her weaving her way through the tables toward the door. She’s leaving.
Gigi! Hollis thinks, but she doesn’t call out because she is determined to maintain her composure.
“Thanks for the chat, ladies,” Electra says. “Enjoy your time on the ’Tuck!”
The ’Tuck? Tatum thinks, rolling her eyes. Only the most irritating tourists call it that.
What has Electra done? Brooke thinks.
Is Gigi going home? Dru-Ann wonders. Can Dru-Ann go with her?
Caroline cuts the camera and lets it drop to her side. She sees Gigi climb into a taxi out in the parking lot. “Mom?” she says.
Hollis is up on her feet. “You four go straight to the Endeavor, please,” she says. “Gigi and I will meet you there.”
44. The Friendship Sloop
Their sail on the Endeavor is scheduled to go from two to four, but at two fifteen, neither Hollis nor Gigi has arrived, and Caroline can tell that Captain Jim is getting antsy. The first mate is Captain Jim’s son, James, who asks Caroline how much longer she thinks it will be until they can get under way.
“They should be here any minute,” Caroline says. “They’re just parking.”
But a few minutes later, Caroline receives a text from Hollis that says: Go without us.
Srsly? Caroline texts back. Where are u?
Go, Hollis texts. Just please go.
“Actually my mom isn’t coming,” Caroline tells James. “So I guess we’re ready, then.”
Caroline, Brooke, Dru-Ann, and Tatum choose seats in the cockpit and they listen as James gives a briefing—lifejackets, no toilet paper in the head, et cetera—and a quick history of the boat. The Endeavor is a thirty-one-foot Friendship sloop that Captain Jim built himself.
Very cool, Dru-Ann thinks, but as James is talking, Dru-Ann peeks at her phone. Hovland bogeyed seventeen; he’s out. Phineas and McIlroy are tied headed into eighteen.
She should have gone with Gigi and Hollis, she thinks.
Tatum sends a quick text to Kyle: You will not believe what happened at lunch! Some woman is stalking us! Tatum is actually grateful for all the drama, it’s keeping her mind off the other thing. She considers Electra’s accusation. Gigi was with Matthew, as in his lover? Tatum doesn’t blame Gigi for walking away; Tatum would have slapped the woman, then left.
Brooke is listening to James, but she’s also still stunned by Electra’s audacity. Who approaches a group of women at lunch and accuses one of the women of sleeping with another woman’s dead husband? Being provocative is Electra’s superpower—but something is niggling at Brooke. It’s the thing Electra said at Slip 14 when she was telling Brooke about bumping into Matthew. I think we caught him by surprise. Maybe what Electra meant was that Matthew was with a woman? Maybe, Brooke thinks. But it certainly wasn’t Gigi!
Caroline is worried about her mother. Are you okay? she texts.
Yes, darling, everything is fine. See you when you get back to the house.