45
The Fourth of July parade started late morning.
Giant bunches of rainbow balloons traveled down Commercial Street attached to floats shaped like sea creatures, the American flag, and the Pilgrim Monument. Dancing drag queens were decked out in red, white, and blue sequins, and candy-colored vintage cars puttered past the crowd of onlookers.
Gemma and Alvie staked out a viewing spot in front of Maud’s Victorian. They were dusted with stray glitter after only a few minutes. Along the parade route, all the shop owners and tourists with children and locals taking a time-out from the beach and pool cheered the participants on.
Gemma felt almost carefree. She’d always liked the Fourth of July. When she was little, she’d watched the extravagant Hamptons fireworks show from the deck at her mother’s family’s beach house. Later, after she moved in with her father’s parents, Nana took her to a little park where the local kids played softball and basketball. Everyone sat on blankets and watched a more modest version of the celebration she remembered from her other life. Once she got to college, the Fourth of July wasn’t as big of a deal in the city. Mostly, she and her friends drank too much and hung out in Washington Square Park.
But now, back at the beach, she felt her childlike enthusiasm returning. How could she not? Even on an average day in Provincetown, there was a certain whimsy in the air. On a holiday, you had to work hard not to find something to smile about.
“Isn’t that your man?” Alvie said. Gemma followed the direction she was pointing in, expecting, on some gut level, to see Sanjay. But Alvie was talking about Connor Harrison.
“He’s not my man,” Gemma said.
“I’m sure that can be fixed.”
“Very funny. And stop pointing—”
Too late. Connor must have sensed their eyes on him because he turned in their direction as surely as if they’d called out his name. He moved toward them, weaving through the crowd. She hadn’t seen him since dinner at his house two weeks ago—not for lack of trying on his part. Gemma just kept telling him she was busy. She’d had a good time; she enjoyed his company. But she needed to keep things casual.
And yet, she kept forgetting how handsome he was. Every time she saw him, he was more tan, more golden.
“Hey, I’m so glad we ran into each other,” he said. “Do you want to come over later to watch the fireworks? The view from my roof will be spectacular.”
She was about to say no, to tell him that she was going to a party. Jack’s cousins Lidia and Manny hosted a clambake every Fourth and that’s where she’d be celebrating. But then she spotted another familiar face in the crowd—and this time it was Sanjay.
What was he doing there? And why hadn’t he called her?
She got her answer as soon as she realized he wasn’t alone; he was holding hands with Monica Del Mar. Monica, of the disastrous New Year’s Eve party. She was the woman he was seeing? The reason why he pulled away from her the night on the beach?
Unbelievable.
So much made sense now. Monica told on her because she was jealous—she wanted Sanjay for herself. Gemma gave her the perfect opening by kissing Noam at the party. And now they were together, two photographers just living it up at one of the most scenic beaches in the country.
Fine. She was officially done flagellating herself. She’d apologized to Sanjay a million times; she’d made it clear she still cared about him. She even mentioned him in her New York Times interview. She valued him in every way. But if he couldn’t see that, then maybe it was time for her to let go.
“Gemma?”
She looked back at Connor, having almost forgotten he was standing there with her.
“Yes,” she said. “I’d love to come over and watch the fireworks.”
Elodie poured herself a cup of white wine and looked around for Tito.
The party spilled out from the Barros house all the way to the dock. Paper lanterns topped picnic tables, a DIY bar was set up on a folding table, and off to the side there was a large steaming bed of seaweed surrounded by a buffer of packed sand and covered with lobsters, corn, clams, and oysters. Bruce Springsteen played over the sound system.
People milled around, drinking out of plastic cups (the stack of cups by the bar had a sign behind it reading Recyclable!), eating watermelon and feta salad and other appetizers, and dancing to the music.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Tito since the dolphin rescue. It was near constant. She thought about him in a way she hadn’t thought about a man in many years. In decades.
She spotted her sister in the crowd. Celeste gave a hearty wave, and Elodie returned the hello with slightly less enthusiasm. It was hard for her to be smiles and rainbows for Celeste when she was half the reason she was still stuck in limbo.
Her phone rang, and she checked it reluctantly, only to immediately wish she hadn’t.
“Sloan, hello. You don’t take off holidays, I see.”
“I’m on a vacation of sorts,” Sloan said. “I decided to take a trip to the Cape.”
Elodie felt her stomach tense. “Oh? Good for you. Let’s talk after the holiday?”
“Actually, I’d love to talk sooner. I’m in Provincetown. How’s tomorrow afternoon, say two o’clock? I’m staying at a friend’s house. We can chat poolside.”
Elodie caught Celeste’s eye and waved her over. “Sure,” she said.
“Wonderful. I’ll text you the address. And please see if your sister and niece can join us? I figure we can wrap up the paperwork and celebrate with a bottle of champagne.”
Little alarm bells went off inside her.
“I can’t make any promises . . . but I will certainly stop by to say hello,” Elodie said.
Celeste reached her, dressed in one of her usual tunics, this one navy blue with little gold stars. She had a gerbera daisy tucked behind one ear, her sand-colored hair loose and slightly frizzy at the temples.
“Happy Fourth!” she said, smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world. It was infuriating.
“Well, it would be happy if I didn’t have the rep from Whitmore’s calling me,” Elodie said.
“On a holiday?”
“Listen: I don’t ask you for very much. For anything, to be exact. But this woman is in town and she wants to meet tomorrow. I need you to come, I need you to bring Gemma, and I need you to convince her to sign the contract. Can you do that for me?”
Celeste hesitated. “I’ll talk to her. But I can’t make any guarantees unless you at least tell her where Paulina’s ring is.”
“It’s not Paulina’s ring! That was just a publicity stunt and you know it. Are you really going to rewrite history like this?”
Tito walked over with a smile, handing Elodie a can of wine. Celeste waited for Elodie to inform him that she didn’t drink wine from a can, but instead her sister just smiled at him sweetly and pulled the aluminum tab open. Interesting.
“Listen, Elodie,” she said, “do you want to be right or do you want your signed contract?”
“I want the contract.”
“I’m not even asking you to give the ring to Gemma. Just let her know that it’s safe, let her see it. Tell her you’ll leave it to her children someday—anything. Just meet her halfway, and I’ll do my best with the paperwork.”
It was a reasonable request. The problem was, she couldn’t tell her the ring was safe. And she couldn’t let her see it.
The diamond was long gone.