Connie was holding two beautiful plates of food. “Okay, I’ll eat inside one more time. But after this, I’m eating outside if I want to. I’m lying on the deck, just like I did the other day. I’m going for a swim.”

“You won’t swim until August,” Meredith said. “Admit it, you think the water’s too cold.”

“The water is too cold,” Connie said. “But I’ll walk on the beach. And if they want to photograph me walking on the beach, so be it. I’ll give them the finger. That’s what you have to do, Meredith. Mentally give them the finger. Let them know they don’t scare you.”

“They do scare me,” Meredith said.

Even inside, lunch was delicious: tuna sandwiches with hothouse tomato and the farm lettuce, great globs of mayonnaise, the subtle tang of mustard. They drank cold cans of sparkling Italian lemonade.

Connie had Dan Flynn’s business card next to her plate. She said, “I’m sure he just wants to know where to send the bill.”

Meredith said, “Call him and find out.”

Connie made a face. Then she picked up the phone. Meredith stood to give her friend some privacy, and Connie snapped her fingers and pointed to Meredith’s chair.

“Stay,” she said. “I can’t do this alone.”

Meredith sat.

Connie said, in a bright voice, “Hi, Dan? It’s Connie Flute calling. From Tom Nevers? Yes, it looks great. I’m so relieved. You’re a lifesaver!” She paused and her green eyes widened. “Oh? Tonight you mean? Gosh, well… I have other plans tonight, I’m afraid. What about tomorrow night?” She bit her lower lip. “Okay, that sounds great. And would it be okay if Meredith joined us?”

Meredith waved her arms and shook her head so violently, she heard wind in her ears. NO!

“I can’t leave her here alone,” Connie said. “Especially not after what happened.”

Meredith mouthed, “You go! I’ll stay here!”

“Okay, that sounds perfect. Seven thirty, Company of the Cauldron. Wonderful. You’ll come pick us up at six? So early, you’re sure? You’re sure it’s not out of your way? Oh, don’t lie-it’s out of everyone’s way! We could just meet you at the restaurant. Really? You’re sure? Okay, okay, fine, drinks sound fun. So… we’ll see you at six. Thanks, Dan! Bye-bye.” She hung up.

Meredith said, “What the hell are you thinking?”

Connie collapsed in her chair. She fiddled with the bread crusts that were still on her plate. “He asked me out to dinner. To the Company of the Cauldron. Which is the most romantic restaurant on earth.”

Meredith groaned. “I’m not going with you.”

“You have to,” Connie said.

“Oh, come on, Connie. Why?”

Connie massaged her forehead. “I’m not ready to date. Normally, I would have just told this guy I’m not ready-but if you come with us, then it won’t be a real date and I’ll be okay.” Connie’s cheeks were flushed and her green eyes were shining. She liked Dan. And why not-he was good-looking, he was the right age, he’d lost his wife. But Meredith knew that if she refused to go, Connie would call Dan back and cancel. How was this any different from Connie insisting that Meredith come with her to Radnor High School three afternoons a week to watch Matt Klein wrestle when they were in the eleventh grade? How was it different from driving with Connie past Drew Van Dyke’s house in the middle of the night to make sure his car was in the driveway and not parked in front of Phoebe Duncan’s house?

“This is high school all over again,” Meredith said.

“That’s what life is,” Connie said. “It’s high school, over and over and over again.”

It would be nice if that were true, Meredith thought. In high school, no one died of prostate cancer. In high school, no one was operating a $50 billion Ponzi scheme. The fact that what was happening right now was like high school was something to rejoice about, she supposed.

“All right,” Meredith said. “I’ll go.” She didn’t want to be left in the house alone; it would absolutely petrify her. “Did he sound upset that you were dragging me along?”

“Not really,” Connie said.

Right: men would do anything for Connie, including having dinner with the wife of the biggest robber baron in history.

“And what plans do we have tonight?” Meredith asked.

“Plans?”

“You told Dan you had plans tonight.”

“Of course I did,” Connie said. She stood to clear the table. “I couldn’t let him believe we were staying home. Don’t you know anything?”


Their “plans” for Saturday night included eating a goat cheese soufflé and Caesar salad for dinner-it was like something Meredith used to order at Pastis, and Connie had whipped it up herself. And after dinner, Connie invited Meredith upstairs to Wolf’s study to look at the stars through Wolf’s telescope.

“Wolf knew all of the constellations,” Connie said. She pointed the telescope out the window. “I only know Orion, the Big Dipper, and Cassiopeia.”

“I can find the Little Dipper,” Meredith said. “And the Pleiades. And I know what the Southern Cross looks like.” Meredith had seen the Southern Cross on a trip she and Freddy had taken to Australia. They had been staying in the northwestern seaside town of Broome, which was the remotest place Meredith had ever visited. Freddy had a friend from business school named Michael Arrow who owned a huge pearl farm in Broome. Michael had been an investor; he had lost the pearl farm, which had been in his family since 1870. Michael had been a good guy, open and likable; he had been a friend. Meredith wondered how Freddy felt about cheating Michael Arrow. Goddamn you, Freddy! she thought (zillionth and fourth).

What Meredith remembered about Broome was the open-air movie theater Michael had taken them to. They had sat on swings and watched a movie under the stars. Meredith couldn’t remember what movie they’d seen, but she remembered Michael saying, “And that beauty there? That’s our Southern Cross.”

Meredith wondered if she’d ever see the Southern Cross again. Freddy, most certainly, would not.

Through the telescope, the stars looked closer, though they were still just stars, just points of light that were millions of miles away.

Connie said, “Freddy bought you a star, didn’t he?”

Meredith nodded but said nothing. Freddy had bought Meredith a star and named it Silver Girl, after the lyrics of a song that Meredith’s father used to sing her. Sail on Silvergirl, Sail on by, Your time has come to shine, All your dreams are on their way, See how they shine. The song was “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” Every time it came on the radio, Chick Martin would reach for Meredith’s hand. Oh, if you need a friend, I’m sailing right behind. Chick Martin had bought the album for Meredith’s birthday. He played the song before each of her swim meets. They had slow-danced to the song in the living room in the hour before Meredith’s graduation. He had played the song on a cassette during every driving lesson after Toby broke up with her and left town for the summer. Meredith had played the song on her turntable again and again in the cold, lonely days after Chick Martin dropped dead of a brain aneurysm. She had the old album upstairs in her sole cardboard box; it was now, and always had been, her most precious possession. Even though technology had rendered the album all but useless, she couldn’t bear to part with it.

Meredith had explained the meaning of the song to Freddy, and, years later, when NASA made it possible for private citizens to buy and name stars, Freddy had bought a star for Meredith and named it Silver Girl.

Whoa. That was hard to think about, for many reasons.

Meredith excused herself for bed.


Connie was so excited about the date with Dan Flynn that Meredith felt herself growing excited by osmosis. Connie spent all day on the deck in the sun, diligently applying SPF 15 to her face and keeping cucumber slices over her eyes like a movie star. Meredith watched Connie from the safety of the living-room sofa, where she lay reading a book. More than anything, she wanted to be outside, but she couldn’t relax while worrying that someone might photograph her. The paparazzi in New York had been relentless, swarming the awning of Meredith’s building for days. But this was more insidious-the hidden camera, the secret, gazing eye recording Meredith’s every move. Whether or not there was anyone out there watching her didn’t matter. Meredith felt self-conscious; she felt guilty. She didn’t belong on a sunny deck on Nantucket.

She wanted to call Dev to see if he had any further news from Julie Schwarz about Leo’s case. Had they discredited Deacon Rapp? Had they found Mrs. Misurelli? Meredith switched on her cell phone and held her breath as she waited for calls or texts to come in. Nothing. Then she realized it was Sunday and even Dev, as hard as he worked, wouldn’t be in the office. He would be on a lake fishing somewhere, or strolling in Central Park. Hell, even the Feds-the nameless, faceless Feds-would be enjoying summertime today.


Meredith was borrowing a white linen dress from Connie; it was too long, it hit her midknee, but what could she do? She wished her skin had a little bit of color. She slipped on the dress first, then did her makeup, then put on her wig. It didn’t matter what she looked like, she reminded herself. She was the sidekick here, the tagalong. She was Rhoda to Connie’s Mary Tyler Moore. She was Mary Ann to Connie’s Ginger.

Connie looked absolutely drop-dead gorgeous in a celadon-green silk sheath. She looked like a mermaid who lured sailors to their death. She had on sparkly silver Manolos (Meredith had once owned a nearly identical pair) and she wore Guerlain Champs-Élysées and smelled like a garden in Provence. Oh, perfume! Meredith nearly asked Connie for a spritz, but she refrained. It didn’t matter how she smelled.