Page 93 of These Summer Storms

“It’s a deal,” Alice said, as they all followed her lead. “I still haven’t been able to brain-bleach the memory of Sam sexting the family chat by accident that one time.”

Alice and Greta laughed as Sam held up a hand. “We agreed never to talk about that again.”

“No,youagreed never to talk about it again,” Greta said. “God, you’re such a dirtbag.”

“How do you know I wasn’t trying to text Sila?” Sam asked, defensively.

“You mean besides the fact that you immediately called us all to confirm we wouldn’t tell her?” Alice asked.

“God, imagine being so hard up you sextat your age,” Emily said. “Do women understand how humiliating it is to be attracted to men?”

“Yes,” Alice and Greta said in unison.

Alice took another sip of wine and looked out to the Bay, blue and beautiful between the island and Wickford Harbor, the water dotted with a handful of skiffs, too distant to identify the people inside them, all likely on their way to the island. A helicopter droned overhead, heralding the arrival of people with a high net worth, and the foursome watched until it disappeared past the gabled roof.

Alice took another sip of wine and considered the existing collection of…“What are we calling these people? Mourners?”

“Well-wishers?” Greta suggested.

“Mom would probably call them revelers,” Emily quipped.

“They’re rubberneckers,” Sam said, definitively. “They would have preferred it if we’d invited them to the scene of the crash.”

Not knowing what to say, Alice pointed to Sila in the distance, in animated conversation with someone vaguely familiar. She tilted her glass in their direction. “Hey, isn’t that…the guy from that movie…what’s his name?”

Sam looked. “Yeah. That’s him.”

“I didn’t know Dad knew him.”

“He did some ads for the company,” Greta said. “Apparently he called corporate for an invite. Lauren asked if we’d like to meet him.”

“I for one have always dreamed of meeting celebrities at my father’s funeral,” Alice deadpanned.

“Celebration,” Greta, Emily, and Sam corrected her in unison.

She nodded. “Right. Wild.”

“You should go say hi,” Greta said. “That’s a nice dress, if a bit somber.”

“It has pockets,” Alice responded immediately, sliding her hands into the pockets of the sleeveless black dress she’d remembered to pack. “I thought this would all be, you know, in a church.”

“When Mom could have a party instead?” Emily waved a hand over the lush green space dotted with lavish spreads of food, enormous whitecanvas canopies, and beautiful tablescapes that had been brought in that morning. “Never.”

“WhereisMom, anyway?” Sam asked, looking to Greta.

“How would I know?” Greta’s reply came sharper than anyone expected.

Sam’s brows shot up. “You always know.”

Alice was smart enough to stay quiet, even as Emily shrugged and said, “He’s not wrong. That’s kind of…your thing.”

“Well. Fuck that.”

Everyone gasped.

“Greta.Language.” Sam’s response was mocking, edging on unkind. “Seriously. Relax.”

“Oh boy,” Emily said.

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