“Whose was it?” Lynne asked.

“I don’t know,” Demeter said. “Some kid at the party gave it to me. I had a sip of it, and so did Jake and Hobby, but it wasn’t mine. I just ended up with it somehow. It was in my bag because I had a bag to put it in.”

“So you’re saying some kid at the party gave it to you,” Al said. “Some kid you didn’t know?”

“A kid from off-island,” Demeter said.

“So either you’re lying to us now or you lied that night to the police,” Al said. “Because you told Ed Kapenash that the bottle was yours and that you had bought it off-island.”

Really? Lynne thought. This was a detail that Al hadn’t shared with her. Bastard bastard bastard. Al and Ed and all those other bastards were part of this men’s club that discussed confidential matters and then decided how very little to pass along to their wives.

“I was lying to the police,” Demeter said. “I said I’d bought it so that I wouldn’t get anyone else in trouble.”

“This other kid from off-island, you mean?” Al said. “The one you didn’t even know? You lied to Ed Kapenash, Chief of the Nantucket Police, in order to protect some stranger from off-island?”

“I was in shock,” Demeter said.

“That is bullshit!” Al roared. It seemed to Lynne that the walls of the castle were quaking; she had never seen Al this angry. “You tell us the truth right now!” he demanded.

“I am telling you the truth,” Demeter said. She had shrunk, Lynne thought. She was losing weight; her face was getting back its beautiful contours. She was deeply tanned, and the blond streak in her hair was as light as Lynne had ever seen it. It seemed unfair that Demeter should appear so pretty, so genuinely pretty, on the very day that she was being revealed as a liar, and a thief, and possibly something even worse.

Al paced around the dining room table like a wild animal waiting to be fed. Who knew he could be like this?

“Why did you take two bottles of vodka from the Allencasts’ house?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me!”

“I don’t know!” Demeter cried. “I went in to use the bathroom, I saw the vodka in the bar and I just… took it. I guess I wanted to… I don’t know… act out.”

“ ‘Act out,’ ” Al said. “Act out? Did you know that Zoe was in the house? Did you think if she saw you, she’d let you get away with it?”

“No!” Demeter said. “I had no idea Zoe was there, obviously, or I never would have…”

“Say it.”

“Taken the vodka.”

“Stolen the vodka,” Al said. “You stole it, Demeter. You are a thief. A criminal.”

“Al,” Lynne said.

“Zoe Alistair is one of our oldest, dearest friends,” Al said. “Do you have any idea how mortifying it is for us that she was the one who caught you? She lost a child. Penny is dead. You, my dear, are alive. You got a second chance. And what have you done with it?”

“I didn’t know Zoe was there. I didn’t even know it was the Allencasts’ house. I’m sorry I embarrassed you.” She took a gulping breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t die in the accident instead of Penny.”

“Demeter!” Lynne said.

“No, it’s okay,” Demeter said, in a voice that was all of a sudden nearly serene. “I know that’s what people wish would have happened-that it was me instead of her.”

“No one wishes that, sweetheart,” Lynne said.

“Zoe does.”

“Not even Zoe.”

“Hobby and Jake do.”

“Demeter.”

“What were you going to do with the vodka once you took it?” Al asked. “Were you going to drink it?”

“No,” Demeter said.

“But you drank the night of the graduation party?”

“That night, yes, a little bit.”

“ ‘A little bit,’ ” Al repeated. “Your blood alcohol content was point one-four. That’s more than ‘a little bit,’ my dear.”

Really? Lynne thought. Another piece of secret information that Al and Ed Kapenash had kept from her!

“I drank that night because it was graduation,” Demeter said. “Everyone was drinking.”

“But not Penny?” Lynne said.

“No. Not Penny.”

“Kerry said he had complaints from three other clients about missing alcohol. He said he discounted them because his crews don’t go inside the homes. Then Nell, from your crew, informed him today that you, Demeter, do go inside, on a regular basis, when the clients aren’t at home, in order to ‘use the facilities.’ Is this true?”

“I’ve had problems with my stomach,” Demeter said. “What am I supposed to do? Take a shit on somebody’s beautifully manicured lawn?”

“Have you done this before?” Al asked. “Have you taken bottles of alcohol from houses before today?”

“No,” Demeter said. “This was the only time.” She started to cry. Lynne rose to fetch a box of tissues. “And I don’t know what came over me. It was like I was temporarily insane. I saw those two bottles, and I just… wanted them. I’ve been trying so hard to hold it together this summer. I mean, I could have spent all summer in my room, but I made a promise to Kerry, and I wanted to honor it. You guys have spent God knows how many thousands of dollars supporting me, and I wanted to earn some money on my own. I didn’t want to do the predictable thing and fall into a depression, but the fact of the matter is, I do think about the accident just about every second of every day, and I do think everyone would have been better off if I had died instead of Penny.” Demeter plucked a tissue out of the box and blotted her eyes. “I’m sorry about the vodka. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“So just to be clear, you’re telling me that you didn’t take bottles from any other homes?”

“No.”

“And you weren’t going to drink the vodka you stole? What the hell, Demeter? What were you going to do with it?”

“I don’t know,” Demeter said. “Give it away.”

“ ‘Give it away’?” Al said.

“Other kids drink, Dad,” Demeter said. “I guess I might have given it to Anders Peashway or Luke Browning or David Marcy. And then those guys would have been… I don’t know… grateful. They would have liked me a little better. Hung out with me, maybe.”

Lynne and Al were silent as Demeter sniffled. Lynne thought, She’s lonely. She’s so desperately lonely that she did this awful thing.

Al said, “Go to your room.”

Demeter rose.

Al said, “You’ve lost your job and your chance of ever procuring a reference from Kerry for another job. So starting tomorrow you’re coming to the dealership with me, and you’re going to do filing all day. You’ve lost your car, your phone, and your computer until the start of school. Is that understood?”

Demeter nodded. Lynne wondered if it was wise to cut her off socially when it was her loneliness that was the cause of this mess. But Lynne wasn’t brave enough to undermine Al’s authority.

Demeter said, “Can I still babysit for the Kingsleys if they call?”

Al pursed his lips. “Fine,” he said. “But your mother or I will drive you.”

“Okay,” Demeter said. Her eyes lit up with hope for a second, and Lynne thought, The Kingsleys? She would have guessed that Demeter would be finished with the Kingsleys after the last time. What was it she’d said? “It was goddamned fucking awful, if you must know.”

Demeter ascended the stairs to her room, and Al placed his two hands on Lynne’s shoulders, and Lynne felt grateful for that. The Castles were known for their solid marriage. For their united front, no matter the circumstances.

Al said, “I’m taking the rest of the day off. Let’s go for that swim.”

“Do you think it’s safe?” Lynne said. “Shouldn’t one of us stay here and keep an eye on her?” That, of course, was the problem with grounding your kids: you were essentially grounding yourself too.

“It’ll be fine,” Al said. “I have both sets of her car keys.”

“What about her phone? What about her computer?”

“I’ll collect them when we get back. Come on, I could really use it.”

Yes, Lynne could really use it as well. She would go change into her suit. She had the nagging feeling that there was something she had to do, something unpleasant. What was it? And then she remembered: she had to call Zoe. Call now to grovel and apologize and thank her. Lynne stood up, and her joints complained. She would call Zoe back tomorrow, she decided. When her head was clearer.


That night Lynne had a dream about Beck Paulsen. Very little happened in it; it was more a dream of ambience, set in 1976 in Moorestown, New Jersey, where Lynne grew up. Lynne’s father was a doctor; Lynne and her brothers and their parents lived in an enormous white center-entrance Colonial formally known as the George M. Haverstick House. The Comstocks were considered well off. The boys attended St. Joe’s Prep, but Lynne was sent to public school. She had had her bitter moments about this, but ultimately she would appreciate the diversity that public school offered. Beck Paulsen was from a different social stratum altogether. He was a bad kid, a druggie, he smoked marijuana, he wore shitkicker boots, he listened to Led Zeppelin, he worked at Arthur Treacher’s to make pocket money. Quite famously, he had bought a brown Mazda RX4 before he even had his license.

Lynne dated Beck the summer between her junior and senior years of high school, when she was the same age that Demeter was now. Lynne and her girlfriend Abby used to hang out at Arthur Treacher’s because it was halfway between their two houses and they could both bike there. They also both loved fish and chips, even what passed for fish and chips at Arthur Treacher’s. One night Beck invited them to stick around while he closed up the shop. Abby said no way and rode home; Lynne said no way but stayed. She and Beck made out that night in the Mazda, and that night led to other nights, all summer long. What could Lynne say? To her, Beck was an exotic. He wasn’t preppy and assholish like her brothers and their friends. He was mellow and kind. He was nearly always stoned, and that summer Lynne was nearly always stoned too. Beck drank Miller beer out of cans, most frequently when he was driving around with Lynne, to Maple Shade or the Cherry Hill Mall. Beck’s mother worked in Admitting at the same hospital where Lynne’s father was a thoracic surgeon.

In Lynne’s dream she and Beck were back in the Mazda again, summer air rushing through the open windows. They were driving up to Lake Nockamixon to go fishing. When Beck caught something, they were going to eat it. There was a Styrofoam cooler in the backseat that held a six-pack of Miller Genuine Draft, a package of hot-dog rolls, and a stick of butter.

Also in the back were two fishing poles. Beck had brought his father’s for Lynne to use. They were going to steal a canoe-or as Beck said, “borrow” one-and paddle to the good part of the lake. Lynne knew that all of this was wrong. She should be in Avalon for the weekend with Abby and her parents; she should be at home helping her mother prepare for her annual garden club cocktail party. But she was with Beck Paulsen, who had feathery dark hair like David Cassidy’s and was wearing a black Styx concert T-shirt with white sleeves and jeans and his shitkickers, even on this hot summer day. She was drinking and smoking dope and listening to Meat Loaf on WMMR. If her parents had seen her at that moment, they would have been appalled. But Lynne was happy doing what she was doing. She was happy.


Lynne snapped awake from her dream, and the good, hazy feeling evaporated, and she mourned its loss. She was back on Nantucket, lying in bed next to her husband of twenty-three years, Al Castle, and they would have to get up the next morning and deal with the debacle that had just landed in their lap. Please, couldn’t she go back to that dream? Then Lynne wondered if perhaps her seventeen-year-old self had materialized in her subconscious in order to offer her assistance.

Okay, seventeen-year-old Lynne Comstock-what should I do? she asked.


Seventeen-year-old Lynne smiled dopily. She was stoned. She had been stoned all summer, and her parents had never once suspected. It was a seventeen-year-old’s job to have secrets.

Demeter’s secrets had just been revealed to Al and Lynne in all their heinous splendor. Or had they?

Lynne looked at the clock next to her bed. It was ten past two. She thought back over all the things Demeter had said: “I saw the vodka in the bar and I just… took it.” “I was in shock.” “Other kids drink, Dad.” “I said I’d bought it so that I wouldn’t get anyone else in trouble.”

Lies, Lynne thought. All of it, lies.

Seventeen-year-old Lynne nodded. She agreed.

What did Lynne know? Demeter’s bedroom smelled, there were empty breath mint tins and sugarless gum wrappers in the bathroom trash, there had been a lime in the water next to her bed. She was reading F. Scott Fitzgerald. Maybe Lynne was reaching here, but had a more famous alcoholic ever lived? Her car smelled like breath mints. Ibuprofen that Demeter bought herself was in the medicine cabinet. Lynne had checked everywhere-in the trunk of her car, under the bed, in her dresser drawers, under the bathroom sink. But she hadn’t checked the closet. The smell. Demeter had leaned against the closet door, and the door had slammed shut. She had said that babysitting for the Kingsleys were awful, then she asked if she would be able to go back to the Kingsleys’. There had been a lime in the water next to her bed. When Lynne put a lime in Demeter’s water, it looked like a cocktail. There had been a lime in one of Demeter’s water bottles. Good God.