Margaret looked out over the horizon as Retta steered the car. A storm was building over the ocean. It was common for a brief shower to appear in the afternoon, but this one looked more threatening than the average short downpour. The girls decided to head back to Plum Orchard. It was lunchtime, and they could continue their search later on.
Lunches on Cumberland were almost always sumptuous picnics, allowing every opportune moment to be enjoyed outside. But the disappearance of the hunter—and of Roberta—had made today’s lunch anything but normal. Mrs. Johnston’s servants had prepared a buffet for the naval officers and members of the hunting lodge. Turkey, cranberry sauce, eggplant, sweet potatoes, corn pones, beaten biscuits, freshly churned butter, strawberry ice, and coconut cake were elegantly displayed in silver dishes for the guests. No one had located the missing hunter, but a few of the luncheon guests had found Roberta and had returned her to Plum Orchard.
Much of the food came from the island. Trees bore exotic fruits, such as kumquats and bananas. Cattle, chickens, and pigs were farmed, while deer and boar were hunted to add to the family larder. Bountiful dinners revolved among the different families at the smattering of homes on the island. The grandest meals were served at Stafford, another Carnegie family home that belonged to Nancy’s brother Andrew. Formal dress was required for dinners at his home, a tone that had been set long ago by Mama Carnegie at Dungeness. Tables were candlelit and set with ornate silver, gold-rimmed china, and crystal glasses embedded with gold lace. Margaret loved the formality of those occasions. Even though life with her parents was strained, she was very grateful for their generosity. She loved the clothes her mother bought her, especially her dresses.
After dinners, the adventures always continued. The cousins would drive around the island in the electric car or take nighttime strolls with flashlights in hand. On one ramble, the sweet aroma of cake meandered through the air as they passed Greyfield, another Carnegie family home. Morrie couldn’t resist creeping over to the open window to snatch a cooling cake. He was such a charming scamp. When someone placed shadow crabs in their room, the girls knew who to blame.
One night, their group was making its way through the darkest part of the forest, where entwined tree limbs formed a thick canopy, when Margaret turned her flashlight into the woods. The beam caught the red eyes of a whip-poor-will and then the yellow eyes of a toad. Another sweep of the light illuminated the fearsome glare of a large, unknown animal at the edge of the woods. The scare had sent the group scurrying for the safety of the car.
Margaret filled her plate at the sumptuous buffet on the lawn of Plum Orchard and then sat with some of the officers at a table and chatted—they were quite amiable for military men. During the search, the men had worn huge cloaks as a defense against the thorny bushes and poison ivy—native to the island—and as a safeguard against the potential rain. Margaret borrowed one officer’s cloak and swooped around the yard, enveloping anyone who came in her path.
After lunch, the girls piled back into the convertible and headed toward the beach for one last walk before boarding the boat back to the mainland. They stopped at Stafford to play with the Johnstons’ younger cousins on the front lawn. Margaret noticed how drawn the children seemed to Retta. Her cheerful smile and pleasant manner were infectious. All the Carnegies were so inspiring. They were an exemplary family, remarkable in every way, Margaret thought.
Why couldn’t her own family be more like them? Each Brown family gathering ended in arguments or alienation. Margaret was grateful she would soon go off to college but hated to leave behind the friends she had made at Dana Hall. She feared losing touch with the people who meant the most to her, including Lucy, who was getting married later that summer. Margaret knew Lucy’s marriage would distance them; it had happened with other friends. When girls got married, they disappeared completely into their new lives, and Margaret couldn’t help but feel left behind.
As she and Roberta boarded the boat that afternoon, there were tears in Margaret’s eyes as she said good-bye to Lucy. Changes, she decided, were an inevitable part of life, and she must accept them. She could choose to wrap herself in disappointment and anger like her mother or she could choose to live with the same fervor, adventure, and love of life as the Johnstons and Carnegies. She vowed to rise above her parents’ petty arguments; she would refuse to side with either of them in their marital war. She had to save herself, Margaret realized, otherwise she, too, would drown in their sorrow.
*
A month later, Margaret awoke while it was still dark in her dorm room at Dana Hall. She wanted a cigarette, but didn’t want to disturb Kitty’s slumber. She sneaked out of the room and stepped quietly to the end of the hall. She lifted the large window and crawled out onto the fire escape. She was fire marshal for her floor and well aware that this was against the school’s rules. She would graduate in two weeks, so she didn’t think the headmistress would impose a serious penalty for this minor infraction. The punishment they gave her when she was caught breaking curfew was to send her to the library after dinner for a week. That was like throwing Joel Chandler Harris’s rabbit into the briar patch. The library was exactly where she preferred to be.
She sat on the metal slats of the fire escape and looked out on the small school that felt like home to her. The moon illuminated a layer of fog over the fields that surrounded the school. Her life at Dana Hall was so comfortable she considered remaining on the school’s campus to attend their postsecondary school, Pine Manor. They offered a certification for teaching, but Margaret couldn’t overcome the feeling that she would make a terrible teacher. She hated sitting still in class and studying. Also, she had little patience for children. It would probably be best for her to attend her mother’s alma mater, Hollins College.
Many of Margaret’s classmates had already decided where they would attend college. Roberta was going to Vassar. Margaret’s uncertainty about where she would be the next year weighed on her. She also wasn’t sure how she would survive without the friends she had made, especially Kitty.
As she thought about all the things she would miss at Dana Hall, she developed an intense craving for a toasted cheese sandwich and milkshake from a local café. Likely, the craving was intensified by nostalgia and fear of the future, but before she could remind herself of the school’s strict rules, Margaret had devised a plan. She saw how easy it would be to slip down the fire escape and to walk to the café. She could get to town, eat, and be back before her first class began. It would be an adventure!