Elin Hilderbrand - Silver Girl

When, in high school, Toby started drinking-going to keg parties out in the fields or stealing fifths of gin from their parents’ liquor cabinet and drinking in the car on the way to South Street-it was treated as a rite of passage. When Connie started drinking, she was grounded for weeks, and she heard incessantly about the damage to her “reputation” from, of all people, her mother.

In general, growing up, Connie had resented Toby and worshipped him, hated him and wanted, more than anything, to be him.

Connie thought, I have to tell him. Now. But then Toby said, “How are you, Con? Are things any better?”

Are things any better? Connie didn’t love the phrasing of this question, acknowledging as it did that things for Connie had been pretty bad. Well, they had been bad. Connie had been depressed about Wolf and about Ashlyn. But she resented the accusation that her life needed improvement-because, as an adult, Connie had been happy. She had the glowing marriage, the gracious home, the prestigious husband, the brilliant child.

“They’re better,” Connie said. The good news was, she could say this honestly.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Toby asked.

“Sort of,” Connie said. She felt that as soon as she came right out and said, yes, she was seeing someone, the bubble would burst and Dan Flynn would vanish into thin air.

Because of the incident with Harold, her date with Dan had been overshadowed. But now she grew warm just thinking about it-Dan at dinner, holding her hand; Dan in bed, bringing her back to life. She felt Toby eyeing her.

“ ‘Sort of?’ ” he said. “What does that mean?”

They climbed into Connie’s car, and Toby threw his duffel bag in the backseat. “It means yes, there’s someone, but I don’t know what’s what yet, okay?”

Toby said, “Okay, sorry. Don’t get all touchy on me.”

“Oh, God,” Connie said. She managed to fit the key in the ignition, but she didn’t turn it. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Toby raised his eyebrows at her. There was the look, so familiar, so condescending, as though he were sure she was about to make something out of nothing, typical female member of the family, drama queen like their mother. Well, let’s see then, Connie thought. Let’s see how he likes it.

“Meredith’s at the house.”

Yep, she got him. His eyes widened. The whole arrangement of his face changed. But she could tell he didn’t quite believe her.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Not kidding.”

“Meredith Martin?”

“Meredith Delinn, yes.”

Toby jerked his head, like he was trying to get water out of his ears. “She’s…” He looked out the passenger-side window at the hot, shimmering grid of the town parking lot. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Connie said. “I was afraid if I told you, you wouldn’t come.”

“How long has she been staying with you?”

“All summer.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Not kidding.”

“So… I mean, the husband’s in jail. So what is Meredith doing?”

“She’s trying to figure out what to do. She’s under investigation, I guess; she talks to her lawyer all the time. But the thing is… she’s still Meredith.”

“So you’re telling me she didn’t know what the husband was up to?”

“I’m telling you that, yes.”

“I never met the guy.”

“I think that was probably by design.”

“But I could tell he was a class-A jerk. Typical Wall Street greedy banker hotshot.”

“He was anything but typical,” Connie said. And then, because it sounded like she was defending Freddy Delinn, she redirected the conversation. “So, are you okay with seeing Meredith?”

“Am I okay with seeing Meredith? Sure, of course.” Toby’s face was coloring. He was flustered.

“The last time you saw her was…?”

“Mom’s funeral,” Toby said. “And that ended badly. Are you sure Meredith is okay with seeing me?”

Connie rested her forehead against the top of the steering wheel. She turned on the car; she needed the air-conditioning. “She doesn’t know you’re coming.”

Toby stared at her. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Not kidding.” Connie backed out of her parking spot, thinking, This whole situation is a tightrope walk.

“Her head is going to spin,” Toby said. “I hope you’re ready.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Connie said.

“I’m serious.”

“After what we’ve been through this summer, seeing you will come as a very minor shock,” Connie said. God, how she prayed this was true. She pulled out onto the road. “I’m sorry if that’s a blow to your ego.”

Connie spent her minutes on Milestone Road telling Toby about the highlights of the summer. Spray paint, slashed tires, Harold, their beloved seal, dead.

“You should have called me, Con,” Toby said. “I would have come up sooner.”

“We’ve been managing,” Connie said.

“That sounds like a lie,” Toby said.

“Only a partial lie,” Connie said. She pulled into the driveway. “Here we are.” Toby was looking at the front of the house. There was still a faint outline of the word CROOK on the shingles, but a few weeks of sun and sand had done its work. And Dan had used his power washer on the front porch to blast away all vestiges of Harold’s blood and bodily fluids. All outward signs of terror had been wiped clean.

Toby adjusted his sunglasses and touched his hair, and with what sounded like a deep breath, he grabbed his old blue duffel bag out of the backseat. How did he feel? Did he have butterflies? Connie thought Toby might mask his nerves with small talk-the house looks great-but he was as silent as a monk.

When they walked in, Meredith was sitting at the head of the table. She saw them and stood up. She was wearing white shorts and a black tank top and she was in bare feet. Her hair was in a ponytail. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but her face was tan. She looked, graying hair aside, like she was sixteen years old-tiny and compact, a blue-eyed elf.

When she saw Toby, her eyes narrowed. She poked at her glasses, and Connie wanted to say, Sorry, he’s real. Meredith looked at Connie, and then back at Toby. Connie had known Meredith since the age of four, but she had no idea how the woman was feeling right now.

Connie said, “Look who I found at the town pier.”

Toby dropped his duffel and took a few strides toward her.

Meredith glared at Connie. “Do I seem like a woman who needs more surprise news?”

Toby stopped in his tracks.

Connie opened her mouth.

Meredith raised her face to the ceiling and let out a squawk. “Waaahhhhhh!!” Then she faced Toby. “Hello,” she said.

He smiled nervously. “Hello, Meredith.”

She took a baby step forward, and he opened his arms and they hugged. The hug was brief, but Connie thought it was real. Knowing each other for nearly fifty years counted for something. Connie wanted them both here, and somehow, by virtue of her own scatterbrained negligence, she had managed to get them in the same room.

She was proud of herself for that.

Meredith felt the same way now that she’d felt at Connie’s wedding. And Veronica’s funeral. She couldn’t bear to be near him; she only wanted to be near him. She was at a standoff with herself.

“How long are you staying?” she asked him.

“I don’t know,” he said. “How long are you staying?”

“I don’t know,” she said. She was angry enough at Connie to threaten to leave right that second-but where on earth would she go?

“Does anyone want lunch?” Connie asked brightly.

He looked good, but this only vexed Meredith further. She couldn’t find her balance. There was so much she was dealing with already, and now Toby. Here, in person. He was wearing a green shirt and khaki shorts. His hair was the same, his face was the same but older, with lines and sun spots, but he was still a gorgeous golden lion of a man. Were they actually the same people who had kissed against the tree on Robinhood Road? Were they the same people who had made love in the Martin family library? There were two answers to that as well: They were. And they weren’t.

“I’d love some lunch,” Toby said.

“Meredith?” Connie asked.

“No, thanks,” Meredith said. She could barely breathe, much less eat. “I might go up and lie down.”

“Don’t let me chase you away,” Toby said.

“You’re not…” Meredith wasn’t quite sure what to say. You’re not chasing me away. You don’t have the power to chase me away. You don’t have power over me at all. She was light-headed now. She said, “We’ve had a rough couple of days, as I’m sure Connie’s told you. I’m exhausted.”

“Stay down here with us,” Connie said. She was already in the kitchen, toasting bread for sandwiches, slicing a lemon for the iced tea. “Even if you’re not going to eat, come sit outside.”

“You guys enjoy your lunch,” Meredith said. “Catch up with each other. Do the brother-sister thing.”

“Meredith,” Connie said. “Stop it.”

Toby put his hands on both her shoulders. Meredith closed her eyes and tried not to think. “Come out with us,” he said. “Please.”

The three of them sat at the outside table. Connie and Toby were eating sandwiches worthy of the front cover of Bon Appétit. Meredith’s stomach complained, but she would sustain her hunger strike. She sipped at her iced tea. Her back was to the ocean. She couldn’t stand to look at the water. Thoughts of Harold with his throat slit, blood everywhere, as thick and viscous as an oil spill, pervaded.

“So… I’m here because I sold my boat,” Toby said.

Meredith nodded.

“I’ve had her almost twenty years, so it was hard,” he said. “But I tell myself that, ultimately, she was just a thing.”