Back in her room, Rory pulled on her new bathing suit and grabbed her sunglasses. After witnessing that exchange between Mrs. Rule and Isabel in Isabel’s room, she decided to skip breakfast. The last thing Rory wanted to do right now was sit across from Mrs. Rule and make conversation.
As she reached the back door, the kitchen door swung open. “Oh, Rory,” said Mrs. Rule. “Do you have a minute?”
Rory wheeled around. “Sure,” she said.
Mrs. Rule cleared her throat and stepped closer to her. “About what Isabel said upstairs,” she said, casting her eyes down to the floor. “I do hope I can count on you to be discreet. Connor said that you would be.”
Rory felt a slight pang. It would have been nice for Connor to give her some warning about all this. “Sure, whatever you need,” she said.
“Good. My daughter likes to overdramatize, as you probably know. And she loves to paint me as a hypocrite.” She tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear and forced a smile. “You’ll understand when you have a daughter.”
Mrs. Rule stared at her.
“It seems like you might be going through a rough time.” As soon as the words were out, Rory could hear how ridiculous they sounded. She took a step toward the back door, even though escape was unlikely.
“Well, now that you mention it, things have been better,” she said. “But it’s nothing that other families haven’t gone through. And I don’t believe in making everyone else aware of your private business.”
“Right,” Rory said. “There’s no need for people to know everything.”
Mrs. Rule smiled. “Exactly. I just wish my daughter felt that way.” A look of controlled civility came over her face.
“Well, I won’t say anything to anyone,” Rory said. “Not that I would know who to say anything to.”
Mrs. Rule cocked her head and stared at Rory, as if she were trying to put her finger on something that was out of her reach. “My son cares about you a lot,” she said, as if it had just occurred to her.
“Thanks.” Rory wondered what hidden subtext lay in that statement. Because knowing Mrs. Rule, there had to be some hidden subtext.
“So… you and Connor will be there tonight, then? At the Georgica?” Mrs. Rule asked, abruptly changing tack.
“Sure,” Rory said. “And I think Isabel is coming.”
“Oh? How did that happen?”
“We were talking about it, and she changed her mind.”
Mrs. Rule’s shock gave way to mild awe. “Well. That’s good to know. Thank you.”
“It starts at six,” Mrs. Rule interrupted. She walked back toward the swinging door. “Oh, and Rory?” she asked, turning around. “You do have something nice to wear tonight, right?”
Rory swallowed. “Yes.”
“Good. See you later, then.”
She pushed through the swinging door, and Rory slowly let out her breath. No matter how vulnerable Mrs. Rule had seemed just now, she was still the same person. With the same priorities.
Rory stepped out the back door and into the soft, early summer morning. A butterfly flitted among the roses. She didn’t know what to say to Connor when he woke up. The Connor she’d known up until now would never have pretended not to know such a big detail about his parents’ lives. But maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did.
“We won’t stay long—don’t worry,” Connor said as he steered the car down the series of long, curving paths that led to the Georgica Club. The main house looked even more foreboding than Rory remembered. Golden light from the setting sun outlined the many eaves of the shingle clubhouse while the front of it was cast in shadow. “We’ll just say hi to a few people and leave. Make an appearance.”
“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Isabel grumbled from the backseat. “I’m sure Thayer and Darwin are going to be here.”
“I thought they were your friends,” Connor said.
“They are,” she said. “We had some issues last summer. And those two hang on to things. For, like, years.”
“I’ll help you deal with them,” Rory said. “You want me to tell them off again?”
“That was so awesome,” Isabel said. “I’ll never forget that. The ballsiest move ever.”
Rory looked over her shoulder at Isabel. “Yeah?” she asked.
“Yup,” Isabel replied. Then she mouthed something. I met someone.
You did? Rory mouthed back.
Yup, Isabel mouthed back, and wiggled her eyebrows in a way that said, More later.
They drove up to the main entrance, and a pair of eager valets in white polo shirts ran out to greet them. “Have my parents arrived?” Connor asked the one who opened his door.
“They’re waiting for you in the lobby,” he replied.
Rory stepped out of Connor’s car carefully, then smoothed the back of her sleeveless cowl-necked dress. She’d bought it on sale at Calypso at the end of last summer but had never worn it. Now the back of it was somehow a few inches higher than she remembered. “Can you see my butt?” she asked Isabel as they walked into the club.
Isabel took a step back and scrutinized her. “Nope, but it is kind of short.”
“Great.”
“Relax. I think it’s awesome,” Isabel added. “Just what this place needs.”
Not exactly comforting, Rory thought. Isabel would probably show up naked at the Georgica if someone dared her. She yanked the dress down and felt the blister on her heel throb. At least she’d left the Jack Rogers at home. But high-heeled sandals weren’t making anything easier. If only Mrs. Rule hadn’t made her feel so preemptively underdressed that morning, she would have worn flats.
In the lobby, the rest of the Rules stood waiting at the check-in desk, looking grim and bored. “What took you guys so long?” Mr. Rule said.
“Sorry,” Connor said. “I thought we left right after you.”
“Well, we’ve been waiting here awhile,” he said. The cool, collected, youthful vibe he’d projected the night before was gone, Rory noted. The pinched-looking, impatient CEO was back.
“Well, sorry,” Connor said under his breath.
“Hello, Isabel,” said Mr. Rule. He walked toward his daughter to give her a hug, but Isabel stiffened, as if he were a stranger. “How was graduation?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said. “How was that business trip?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
Mr. Rule gave a sheepish half smile. “It was fine. You know I wish I could have been there.”
“I’m sure,” she said curtly.
He nodded in a resigned way. “Well, let’s go,” he said.
The family began to head toward the exit.
“They’re in a great mood,” Isabel whispered as she came to walk beside Rory.
Rory didn’t say anything. It seemed to her as if Mr. Rule had tried to be nice to Isabel but that she’d been the one to snub him.
They walked outside to the rickety staircase that led down to the pool and the patio, where the party was already in full swing. Men in pastel polos and chinos stood clustered together, while women in brightly patterned shift dresses talked in their own little groups. Before they went down the stairs, Mr. Rule took a step backward so that he was abreast with his wife and curled his arm around her waist. Mrs. Rule stood up straight and threw back her shoulders. Then they descended the staircase together.
“Check it out,” Isabel said, discreetly pointing to her parents. “It’s like they’re Bill and Hillary.”
It was true, Rory thought. All the tension she’d sensed in the lobby had vanished, and now they walked down the stairs as close and cozy as if they were a newlywed couple. Mrs. Rule even seemed to lean into her husband’s tall, slim body, as if she needed his very help to stay upright. Rory looked over to see if Connor was noticing this, but he seemed to be lost in thought about something, looking off toward the ocean.
“So tell me about this guy you met,” she said to Isabel as they walked down the stairs.
“Oh yeah,” Isabel said brightly. “I was driving to Two Trees and sort of got into a car accident—”
“A what?”
“It wasn’t really a car accident; it was a near car accident.”
“A near car accident?”
“I almost rear-ended someone—almost.”
Sloane turned to look at them over her shoulder. “Are you sure that you actually passed your driver’s test?” she asked.
“Mind your own business,” Isabel said. “Anyway”—she turned back to Rory—“the driver was this really annoying yoga freak who was practically delusional, saying that I’d ruined her car or something, and this guy walked over and started defending me. And he was so sweet. And funny. And he gave me his number.”
“I don’t know.”
“Call him.”
“I’ve never called a guy first.”
“But does he have your number?” Rory asked.
“No.”
“Then you have to call,” Rory said. “Or I will for you. You said he was cute, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then go for it.”
“Wow, look at you,” said Isabel. “Last summer I had to twist your arm to talk to a guy at a party.”
“Well, that was last summer,” Rory said proudly, casting a glance at Connor, who still looked preoccupied.
“Fine, I’ll call him,” Isabel said. “Chill.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Mr. and Mrs. Rule moved into the crowd; Sloane and Gregory headed toward a group of their friends; and Connor, Isabel, and Rory assessed the party.
“I don’t really see anyone yet,” Isabel said.
“I’m sure there are some Isabel admirers here. Don’t worry,” Connor joked. “You guys want something to drink?”
“I’ll take a Sprite,” said Rory.
“Have him get you something stronger,” Isabel advised. “You might need it.”
“Not happenin’, sis,” Connor said. “Do you want a soda?”
“No, thanks,” she said, shaking him off.
Connor went to the bar, and Rory watched him go. He still seemed off, but she couldn’t figure out why.
Suddenly Isabel grabbed Rory’s arm. “Oh god. Look. One o’clock.”
“What?”
“Over there. The Shining twins,” Isabel said, steering Rory’s arm so that she faced the right direction.
It was Thayer and Darwin, standing a few yards away, scanning the crowd over their drinks as they chitchatted out of the sides of their mouths. Thayer’s glossy chestnut hair had been curled at the ends, like Kate Middleton’s, while Darwin’s golden-red locks looked suspiciously longer and thicker than they had last summer. Maybe they were extensions, Rory thought. But did real people actually do that? Or was that just a Hollywood thing? Thayer spotted them and gave Isabel a halfhearted wave with the tips of her fingers.
“May as well get this over with,” Isabel said.
“You want a wingman?”
“I can take care of it.”
Isabel ambled off in the direction of the two girls. Rory looked around again. Nobody seemed to notice that she was standing alone. In fact, nobody seemed to notice her at all. People were too busy giving each other air-kisses and gulping down what looked like tall glasses of iced lemonade. She decided to go in search of Connor, who still hadn’t come back from the bar. She found him, drinks in hand, standing beside his parents and an older couple.
“There you are,” Connor said when she joined his side. “Rory, this is Mrs. Randall.” He gestured to the tall, horse-faced woman in the center of the group. “Mrs. Randall, this is my girlfriend, Rory.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Randall said with surprise as she shook Rory’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. You’re from New Jersey, right?”
“Right,” Rory said. She was starting to wonder if she had a sign on her back.
“I love New Jersey,” said Mrs. Randall. “Some parts of it are so beautiful.” Mrs. Randall let go of her hand and turned to speak to Mrs. Rule. “You know, Lucy, I’ve been meaning to tell you. If you two are ever in the mood to do a bike trip through Burgundy, Mark and I are more than happy to bring you along.”
“Oh, we should do that,” said Mrs. Rule, clutching Mr. Rule’s arm. “I’ve always wanted to do one of those. It would be such fun.”
“Belinda loves her bike trips,” said the older, red-nosed man standing next to Mrs. Randall, who Rory assumed was Mr. Randall. “She looks forward to them all year.”
“I think Lucy loves the idea of drinking French wine all day more than the actual bicycling,” Mr. Rule said.
The Randalls, and Mrs. Rule, laughed appreciatively.
Isabel hadn’t been kidding, Rory thought. The Rules really could put on a show.
After a few more minutes of banter, Connor gracefully extracted himself and Rory from the group, and they walked over to the buffet. The ice in her soda had melted, and when she brought it to her lips her front teeth tingled with cold. “If one more person tells me how beautiful New Jersey is, I’m going to lose it,” Rory muttered.
“They’re just trying to be nice,” Connor said.
“So why say that?” Rory asked. “It’s not like I created the state or something.” They stood in front of the hors d’oeuvres, which were mostly rows of orange-tinted cheese tarts. She picked one up and bit into it. It was even drier than it looked.
“This isn’t the most original crowd, I’ll give you that,” Connor said. “And the Randalls can be a little bit much.”
Rory sipped more of her soda, wondering how best to ask what she needed to ask. “Why didn’t you tell me that your parents are definitely getting a divorce?”
Connor frowned. “What?”
“Isabel told me.”
Connor took a sip of his drink. “Well, for one, it hasn’t happened yet.”
“But it sounds like it’s on its way to happening,” she said.
“So? Why is that so important?”
“Because it is. Divorce is a big deal. And I care about you—”
“Then drop it, okay?” He drained his drink. “I’m gonna get another one. You want anything?”
“I’m fine,” she said past the knot in her throat.
“Be right back,” he said, and walked away.
She watched him go, stung. He’d never spoken to her like that. Not ever.
Standing in front of Thayer and Darwin, Isabel needed a drink. It was clear within the first fifteen seconds of walking up to them that they were still mad at her for blowing them off last summer, and now she was trapped.
“Hey,” Thayer said, her trademark blasé in full force. She leaned over—just barely—to give Isabel a hug. “When did you get in?”
Darwin whipped her extralong hair over her shoulder several times, as if begging Isabel to notice her new extensions. “What’s up? Did you get that at Blue and Cream?” She nodded at Isabel’s dress.
“No, some place in Montecito.” Off their confused faces, she added, “Near my school.”
“Oh,” Thayer said coolly, swirling the ice around in her cranberry juice. “Right.”
“It must be weird going to school so far away,” Darwin said, her narrow blue eyes flashing. “And I heard the schools aren’t as good out there.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Isabel asked.
Darwin shrugged, as if this minor detail weren’t that important.
“So… how was senior year?” asked Isabel. “Thayer got into UPenn,” said Darwin. “And I got into Vanderbilt.”
“Oh?” said Isabel. “I got into NYU. Tisch School. For drama.”
Darwin looked taken aback. “Really?”
“Yep,” Isabel said, letting that bomb land nicely. “And what are you guys doing this summer? Just hanging out here at the club?”
“Why? Are you actually going to be here?” Thayer asked, studying the inside of her glass.
“Why does it bother you so much that I hung out with other people last summer?”
“That didn’t bother us,” Thayer said. “What bothers us is that you think you’re too good for this place.”
“But hey, if you’d rather hang out with people who work at the fruit stands, that’s fine with us,” Darwin said with a smirk.
Isabel smiled. “You guys aren’t snobby at all,” she said.
“Look, do whatever you want,” Thayer said, sounding bored. “Nobody cares. I think people have already forgotten about you, if you want to know the truth.” Thayer spotted someone else in the crowd and waved generously. “Tatiana!” she called. “Hey, sweetie pie.”
Before Isabel could say anything, Thayer and Darwin moved off to say hello to Tatiana Gould. She stood looking down at the ground, slowly curling her hand into and out of a fist. So much for trying to do the polite thing, she thought. It was never worth it.
She turned and looked out at the pristine Georgica beach, the same one where she’d met Mike almost exactly a year ago. How lucky she’d been, to find an escape from this place. Now she’d have to find another one. And she didn’t have the least idea how to do that.