Carnival day dawned bright and hot, perfect parade weather. The theme: Mardi Gras by the Sea. Commercial Street was transformed into a wonderland; everywhere you looked, you were met with a flash of tulle, glitter, or feathers. The costumes created a riot of color, and the town was packed end to end with revelers young and old, native and tourist, gay and straight. Perched on the porch steps of Tea by the Sea, Elise and Fern had a front-row seat. They’d draped a big banner in front of the store that read HAPPY FORTIETH CARNIVAL! and handed out free iced tea to the people on the floats.
An hour after the parade ended, the costumes kept coming. A troupe of men dressed in Café Du Monde T-shirts, Speedos, and yellow knee-high socks glided past on roller skates. Behind them were two old women in long black dresses holding black parasols above their heads; their faces were covered in heavy stage makeup, and ropes and ropes of Mardi Gras beads hung around their necks. The beads were everywhere, in fact; even dogs on leashes were sporting a necklace or two.
A small group of police walked by, the only people not in costume. Brian Correia spotted the two of them and waved. Elise glanced at Fern but saw no indication of discomfort or concern on her face. Don’t worry about anything today, Elise told herself. It’s a celebration.
Fern, holding Mira, noticed the baby’s eyes fluttering closed and gently placed her in the car seat resting between them.
“All the excitement has her tuckered out,” Fern said, smiling tenderly at the infant.
When the parade began, Mira had been alert and excited, kicking up her legs and waving her arms at the sound of the music. In the past few weeks she had become markedly, adorably more interested in the world around her.
Two women strolled past arm in arm, each one in a red bedazzled bikini top, red fishnet stockings anchored with a bedazzled belt, a long red train, and red platform heels. Their heads were topped with lobster hats, their hands covered in claw gloves.
“Wow. I’m loving the lobster costumes. Maybe we should have done that instead?” Fern said. They would be dressed as mermaids for Amelia’s party tonight, wearing matching green sequined tube tops and tails Elise had ordered online that fit over their shorts and had an opening at the bottom to facilitate walking. Elise had also made matching green-sequined eye masks and found a mermaid onesie for Mira to wear to the party.
“She’s really out,” Elise said, adjusting the hood of the car seat. “Do you want to bring her in for a nap and, I don’t know, hang out, just the two of us?”
Although she and Fern seemed to be back on track since the holiday last month, they still didn’t have enough time alone together. Elise felt Fern’s affection; she felt they were in sync and, for the first time in a long time, really working toward the same thing on all fronts, yet their physical intimacy had dropped off. This time, it was not Elise’s doing. Fern fell asleep as soon as they climbed into bed every night.
Fern smiled at her, stood up, and brushed off a purple feather that clung to her sundress. Her Mardi Gras beads clinked together. “I’m actually going to head up to catch a quick nap. Need to get my second wind for the party tonight.” She kissed Elise on the forehead and walked inside. Elise looked after her, worry settling in the pit of her stomach, and a voice in her head telling her something was off—a voice that could not be drowned out even by the celebratory noise surrounding her.
Ruth was not a big costume person.
Even when Olivia was little and Ruth had been expected to dress up in a festive Halloween costume, she’d phoned it in with a simple witch hat or devil horns. So when Amelia’s Carnival invitation arrived at Shell Haven with No costume, no entry at the bottom, she hesitated to accept.
“I might sit this one out,” she’d said to Ben, using a Tea by the Sea magnet to stick the invite on the Shell Haven refrigerator.
“Oh, no, you won’t,” Ben said. “If I’m going, you’re going.”
“Why are you going?” Ruth said, already bristling; she assumed it was because of Bianca.
“Olivia insisted I make it my last hurrah. So if I’m roped into this thing, you’re going too.”
Ruth pondered her costume options for days, searching online for inspiration. Since the theme was Mardi Gras by the Sea, she decided to focus on the “sea” aspect of the event and ordered a 1940s-style double-breasted sailor dress. It was navy blue with big white buttons, a white hem, and a flared skirt. She topped it off with a white sailor hat. By the time the party rolled around, after seeing how everyone in town went all out for the parade, she felt silly for ever having balked at the idea of a costume. Ben had also opted for a nautical-themed costume: he was dressed as a pirate.
Nearly every storefront that day posted a sign or banner recognizing the fortieth anniversary of Carnival; Ruth calculated that her first summer in town had marked the debut of the festival. How full circle, how impossible to consider a coincidence. She would embrace Carnival, she would get into the spirit. She felt certain it would somehow be a momentous night. Life had drawn her back here, and for one final night, her family would be together. She had to make the most of it.
The door of the Beach Rose Inn was marked with a fleur-de-lis and an elaborate wreath of gold tulle. Inside, Molly rested by the ottoman, a purple, green, and gold scarf around her neck. Rachel greeted guests and handed out masks and instructed everyone to head outside to the backyard.
The house was festooned with streamers, balloons, and hundreds upon hundreds of beads hanging from the ceiling, the stairs, and the doorways. Out back, jazz music played over the sound system. Ruth was on the early side but there were already a few dozen guests mingling against the backdrop of the bay, the water shimmering in the light of the early-evening sun.
With all the guests in costumes and masks, it took some work to recognize people. She spotted Elise and Fern in mermaid costumes—hard to miss with the baby stroller next to them.
Ruth’s stomach tightened. Every time she saw Mira, she felt the clock ticking on her decision to keep silent. Ben had been right when he’d told her that her priority had to be mending the rift with Olivia. She’d been honoring Amelia’s wishes—and Jaci’s secret—long enough. Still, Jaci needed to be the one to tell her own truth. Ruth had been thinking and thinking about how to make this easier for her.
“Ruth!” Lidia Barros waved to her. She wore a starfish-pattern dress with a foam starfish hat and starfish glasses. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
Yes, that’s because I’ve been avoiding you. “I know, I know—I’ve been busy.”
“I love the hand lotion and the lavender oil. You’re amazing. You should be selling this stuff.”
Ruth nodded, distracted, and looked around for Olivia. “Have you seen Olivia?” she asked Lidia.
“Yes—she’s over there with Marco. The two of them are joined at the hip, as usual.” She leaned toward Ruth and winked conspiratorially. “I could not be more thrilled.”
Ruth smiled. “I feel the same way. I just need to talk to her for one minute. I’ll be right back.”
“Ruth! How adorable. I love your ensemble.” Amelia, wearing a foam costume that seemed to be some sort of square pastry—a beignet?—intercepted her midway across the sand. How fitting that Amelia was dressed as a comfort food. She was such a comfort to them all.
“Thank you,” Ruth said, feeling a rush of affection for the woman. It was Amelia, after all, who had given her the ultimate piece of wisdom that summer, the first day at her mosaic class on the beach: You can take something broken and turn it into something whole.
Amelia might not approve of the conversation Ruth was about to have with her daughter. And yet, Ruth knew that if Amelia were in her position, she would do the same thing. Amelia was a mother, a grandmother, and a great-grandmother.
Ultimately, Amelia would understand.
Ruth kept moving, passing two men dressed in pink shorts and pink T-shirts holding clear parasols with big googly eyes in front and ribbons hanging around the edges. It took her a moment to realize it was Clifford and Santiago costumed as jellyfish.
“Ruth Cooperman!” Clifford called, waving her over.
“I almost didn’t recognize you,” she said.
“Then we’ve done a good job,” Santiago said, lowering his parasol. “I just don’t think we factored in what a hassle it would be to carry these all night.”
“Everyone suffers for their art,” Clifford said. “Now, Ruth, I know it’s a party and I shouldn’t be doing business but…” He reached into his shorts pocket, took out a set of keys, and handed them to her.
“What’s this?” she said.
“The keys to Blue Stone. Congratulations!”
Ruth looked at the keys for a moment before slipping them into her purse. She knew they had closed on the house, but it still felt unreal. “Thanks, Clifford,” she said.
“Thank you. I have to say, Ruth, that you were a bit of a handful when we first met. But now it feels like you’ve always been here, like it was meant to be. Don’t you think?”
She smiled. “I do, Clifford.”
How easy it would be to just talk amiably with Clifford and Santiago, to ignore the serious conversation she had to have in favor of the playful one she was engaged in. But she couldn’t.
“Can you excuse me for a minute? I have to talk to my daughter.”
“Go forth and mingle,” Clifford said, then headed off to the buffet table.
Ruth looked ahead, trying to locate Olivia in the growing crowd near the bar. She saw her standing near the far end of the backyard, where the short stretch of grass gave way to sand. The bar had been set up in this waterfront section, and the guests migrated toward it. Olivia was deep in conversation with Marco, who was dressed as some sort of nautical king. Poseidon? He held a three-pronged trident in one hand.
They were eye-locked with each other, engaged in the type of intimacy that made it clear they were a party unto themselves. Ruth walked toward them. Here it goes, she thought.
This was the right thing to do. It was a conversation she had to have. It had seemed, when she awoke in the middle of the night, so obvious. At four in the morning, still foggy and operating on dream logic, she had complete faith in her idea to set things right. Now, in the bright light of reality, she wasn’t so sure. Still, even one more day of inaction was unthinkable.
Olivia noticed her approach but pretended she didn’t. Marco was the one who greeted her, welcoming her into their tight twosome.
“Poseidon?” Ruth said to him.
“Yes, you got it,” he said. “Love the sailor dress.”
“Thanks. And Olivia, you make a beautiful…” What was she dressed as? Her long hair hung loose, and she wore a sea-green gown with a fitted bodice and a full skirt that was decorated with what appeared to be real seashells. She carried the same trident as Marco. “Mermaid?”
“I’m Amphitrite,” Olivia said.
Amphitrite. The name of the boat on which she had lost her virginity to Ben.
It was suddenly so hot. Ruth swayed, just enough to catch Marco’s attention. He reached for her arm. “Are you okay?”
“Fine, fine,” she said, trying to collect herself, to focus on the task at hand. “Marco, I need to borrow Olivia for a few minutes.”
Olivia protested, made some excuse about how they were just about to go inside to the buffet, but Marco offered to check out the spread and bring her some hors d’oeuvres.
When they were alone, Olivia turned to her in a huff. “What is it, Mother?”