Page 87 of Surfside Sisters

Keely waited outside for Gray to arrive. He’d rented a Mercedes. Of course he had. When he stepped out of his car, she hurried down the walk to meet him. He wore a lightweight navy blazer and white trousers. White bucks, a red tie, an all-American look. She pecked a kiss on his cheek and stepped back.

“You look absolutely ravishing tonight,” Gray said. “Maybe we should forget the benefit and go straight to my room.”

Keely laughed, as if he couldn’t mean what he was saying. “You look rather gorgeous yourself.”

“I’m glad you think so, Keely. I want to do everything I can to please you.”

Keely shook her head, stunned. This was an extraordinary event, this expression of his emotions, the depth of his feelings for her. She was overwhelmed. She didn’t want to thank him—she didn’t want to own the reason for his action.

“I’m speechless,” she said, and that was true.

As they drove out to ’Sconset, they talked of insignificant things. This was no time for Keely to bring up Sebastian, and no time for Gray to get serious with Keely. Once they were at the private club, its spacious rooms leading to remarkable views of the southwest part of the island, they were engulfed by other benefit guests. Waiters came by with trays of drinks. Gray chose a martini, but Keely stuck with prosecco, her old reliable bubbly pal that never got her drunk.

She was only slightly surprised that so many people at the party recognized Gray. Many people were from New York, and the luscious women, flashing with diamonds worth more than Keely’s mother’s house, came fluttering up to Gray to kiss his cheek. Their husbands shook Gray’s hand and patted him on the shoulder. They talked about the Yankees, about a benefit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York that coming summer, about the stock market.

Keely studied Gray as he talked. No doubt about it, if he were cast in a movie, he’d definitely be chosen as the lead. It wasn’t just that he was broad-shouldered and handsome. He carried himself with a natural authority, almost a nobleness. And he deserved it.

The New York women eyed Keely cautiously until she told them she had a pied-à-terre in the city (it amused her to think of her tiny apartment in such terms) and that she was a novelist. Some of the women had read her book and loved it.

At the end of the evening, the valet brought the car up to the club entrance. Keely slipped inside and immediately removed her high heels.

“I’m in pain,” she told Gray, laughing. “No, seriously. I haven’t worn such high heels for weeks. I’d forgotten that it’s complete torture.”

“Wear comfortable flats,” Gray suggested as he turned out of the long private drive and on to Polpis Road.

Keely laughed. “No, thanks. I can deal with the occasional high heels when I’m here. Mostly I wear sandals. After all, it’s spring, it’s Nantucket.”

“But what about when you return to New York? I have a fond memory of you in short skirts and high heels.” Reaching over, he took Keely’s hand. “You have amazing legs.”

They were on the curve of road that took them past Sesachacha Pond. The pond was often breached by the ocean storming over the small sand barrier between them. On the other side of the water, several summer houses stood, their lights twinkling like lightships, and every few seconds the beam of the ’Sconset lighthouse would flash.

“Gray,” Keely said impulsively, “pull over here. At that small overlook.”

“It’s a nice spot,” Gray said, turning off the engine and reaching to put his arm around Keely.

She pulled away. He had misunderstood her intentions, and it was her fault.

“Gray, wait,” she said quickly. “I need to tell you something.”

Gray drew back. Immediately, his guard was up, an invisible shield Keely could almost see.

“Gray, I’ve been…seeing someone since I’ve been home. His name is Sebastian Maxwell. He’s Isabelle’s brother. I know I’ve spoken about her. I would have told you about Sebastian before, but I didn’t know that he’d be here, I didn’t know that he…he loves me. I don’t know what’s going to happen, especially because his father had a stroke last night. I can’t expect to talk about the future with Sebastian now, and I don’t want to mislead you.”

Gray stared out at the water, his face impassive. “What you’re saying is that if you have the chance to be with this…Sebastian…you will take it. Between me and him, you choose him.”

Keely looked down at her hands. “Yes, I suppose that’s what I’m saying. I’m sorry.”

Gray was quiet for a long time. Then he said, “You told me about Isabelle. Once, for most of your childhood, your best friend. Then she stole your boyfriend.”

“Yes, that’s right. I was angry with her when she married Tommy. She suddenly just snatched him back, without even telling me. And to be honest, Isabelle was upset with me whenRich Girlcame out. Mostly because I sort ofwon, because I had a book published. Also because she probably thought a lot of the rich girl was based on her, and it wasn’t really, although I did use bits and pieces of her life, her clueless sense of entitlement. But I really hope we’ll be friends again.”

“That family means a lot to you,” Gray observed. “Maybe too much? Keely, I want to marry you. I want to spend my life with you. I don’t say that lightly. I’m not going to run away. I can be patient. I can wait while your friend’s father recovers from his stroke, until you have time to speak with Sebastian about your future.”

“Gray…”

“It’s okay, Keely. I’m okay. We’re all right.” He reached for the ignition button and started up the car. He pulled back onto the narrow, winding road.

After a moment, Gray continued, “And let’s say you marry this Sebastian. Will you live on the island? Permanently?”

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