Page 10 of Dead of Summer
FAITH
Faith has dressed herself for a night out.
She’s wearing black linen pants and a matching strapless top, which she’s paired with gold sandals and flat round abalone earrings that glint iridescently when they catch the light.
Trying to pass the time while David was away, she took forever putting on makeup, doing her lids in deep bronze, applying perfume to her wrists.
She’d kept an ear attuned to the door, expecting David to show up at any moment.
But evening stretched into night with no sign of him and now Faith is beginning to feel anxious. She slips out into the hall and goes downstairs. The house is painfully quiet. And empty.
She remembers what Elena recently told her about rich people. They’d been out to dinner at a hip new omakase restaurant. A man with a Rolex had given the young women a smile, sending the two of them a round of drinks. “Looks rich,” Faith had whispered.
But Elena wasn’t sold. “The Rolex is too try-hard. The way you can really gauge how wealthy someone is, is by how much space they take up,” she’d instructed, delicately picking up a piece of sashimi.
“A truly rich person will have endless amounts of space, homes, land, cars. And it will mostly be empty and unused.”
“Isn’t that a little pointless?” Faith had laughed. Elena had looked at her in mock seriousness, but it was clear who was the student and who the pupil.
“I thought you wanted to learn their ways before your big vacay on Hadley next week.”
“Yes, sorry. I do. Can I have more sake first?”
“Only if you listen to me.” She’d laughed as Faith tipped her cup to catch sake from a small earthenware pot. “Kanpai.”
The lights of Midtown Manhattan sparkled out the window behind her.
“I know what I’m talking about. They aren’t like normal people.
Especially billionaires like the Clarkes.
You can’t just waltz in and be accepted.
It’s going to be rough at first. You have to expect them to act like they don’t like you.
Not just don’t like you, like they hate you. ”
“But why would anyone hate me?” Faith asked, her eyes twinkling. “I’m so charming.”
“That’s exactly why. They won’t trust you. They don’t trust anyone.”
Faith passes though the open doors out onto the veranda. The sun has already slid past the horizon. The waves are bigger now, capped with frothy white. She can hear them rushing in along the beach.
“There you are! You’ve made yourself at home, I hope?” David says from behind her. Faith smiles into the darkness and turns to him. Finally.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone all day. Dad had some things he wanted me to look at.” She waits for him to elaborate but he doesn’t. He puts his chin on her shoulder, peering out at the water. She is relieved to feel the weight of it there. All day she’s felt strangely untethered.
“What have you been up to?”
“Lazing about mostly. I went to the pool.”
“Sounds glorious. I wish I could have joined you.”
“Tomorrow,” Faith says. He murmurs a noncommittal agreement. Out in the distance, a light glints off the waves. Faith can barely make out the house on stilts she saw earlier. A dim light shines from one of its windows then blinks out. She points to it. “Does someone live out there?”
David’s body tenses behind her. “Ah, yes, the Rock. Home to our island’s famous recluses.” He snorts derisively.
“They never leave?” The idea of it fills Faith with questions. It’s like something out of a fairy tale.
“Not in years, as far as I know. But I don’t pay much attention. They’re total oddballs. And Henry doesn’t exactly have the best reputation.”
Faith continues to stare. The idea of a couple living out there with no contact to the outside world intrigues her. “In what way?”
But David is no longer paying attention. His face is illuminated by the screen of his phone.
“David!” she chides him.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
“I said, what happened to give him a bad reputation?” Faith says, irritation creeping into her chest. Bad enough that he’s left her alone all day but now he’s ignoring her. David must sense her frustration because he slips his phone into his pocket and takes her hand in his.
“Well, if you must know, he killed a young girl named Alice Gallo. Took her out in his boat and did god knows what to her.”
Faith’s heart jerks in her chest. “When was this?”
“Long time ago now.” His voice is gruff, and Faith can tell the conversation is hitting close to the bone. He is looking out at the Rock now, scowling. “He was never convicted, though he should have been. There was plenty of evidence though they never found the body.”
“You knew her, didn’t you?” Faith asks gently.
“Just a bit, I used to see her around Hadley in the summers. Poor thing. You can never account for what people will do when they are allowed to just follow their impulses.”
“I’m so sorry. That’s awful,” Faith says, feeling selfish. She shouldn’t have pressed it. She’s brought up something sad and traumatic on what was meant to be a relaxing night.
“Enough about them,” David says. “Leave the past in the past, isn’t that what they say?” He lifts her arm up and twirls her away from the water. “You look incredible. What is this, another of your stunning new vacation outfits? Well done.” Faith smiles, giving in.
“Never mind. Where are you thinking for dinner? I’m starving,” she says, eager for a reset. One day alone is nothing a glass of wine and a platter full of oysters won’t fix. “Elena says that the Oyster Room is incredible.”
David’s smile falters. “Actually, would you be okay with eating here on the patio tonight? Dad has asked the staff to make lobster. He has his heart set on it, I think.”
“Oh, okay.” Faith tries not to look disappointed. She has trouble imagining Geoffrey Clarke’s feelings being hurt.
“Just for tonight.” David puts his hands on her shoulders to reassure her. “Says he has something important to tell us. I’ll take you out tomorrow and show you off to the whole island.”
“Intriguing.” Faith raises her eyebrows, buoyed by the promise of being included in some interesting information.
“Come on then, let’s go dine with the most terrifying man on Wall Street. Just don’t tease him about his lobster bib.”
David holds out his arm to her and without hesitation she takes it.
Across the table, Geoffrey cracks a lobster shell in a pair of silver pliers.
He peels it apart with his fingers and slurps the head from the shell.
Faith finds her stomach turning as she looks down at her plate.
The lobsters came out on absurdly large platters, one for each of them.
She’s never liked the idea of lobsters. The boiling water, the tanks of them with their claws rubber-banded together, waiting for their time in the pot, has always made her queasy.
It tugs at her conscience as she delicately pulls a claw apart, but she can’t bring herself to eat it.
Geoffrey clearly has no compunction about any of it. “Got to get in there, get your fingers dirty,” he booms at David. He hasn’t touched his lobster yet, either, Faith notices. She catches his eye, and he gives her a tired smile.
“So, David.” Geoffrey leans back in his chair. His fingers and mouth glisten with melted butter.
“So, Dad,” David replies, trying to act casual, but Faith catches the strain in his voice.
“You know I had something I wanted to tell you.” Geoffrey looks at him for a beat, drawing out the information. His eyes glitter in the candlelight. A small smirk plays on his lips; he’s enjoying keeping them guessing.
“I’m all ears,” David says.
Faith finds that she is holding her breath.
“I’m bringing back the Fourth of July party this year,” he pronounces.
Faith exhales, a party . Elena will be so jealous. She smiles, relieved, and looks to David. But he is staring at his father, his face white with shock.
“Are you sure?”
“Damn straight,” Geoffrey says.
“But why? It’s been so long, what reason would you possibly have to bring it back?” Faith looks between the two of them, confused by the panic in David’s voice.
“Can’t the Clarkes host their annual Fourth of July celebration?”
“What reason could you possibly want to have it now after fifteen years?” His face has gone red, and pinpricks of sweat have started to form on his forehead.
“You see that dock you love so much, well it needs a real fucking mooring, okay?” Geoffrey growls. “I need the town council to grant me the fucking mooring for the yacht, but they are a bunch of morons. Size restrictions blah blah blah. Fucking idiots.”
Faith reaches for David’s hand, but he jerks it away and brings it clenched to the top of the table. When she looks to Geoffrey, she sees that he is watching them, amused. He takes a lobster claw and slurps from it, the matter sorted.
“This is for a boat?” David asks, incredulous. “Can’t you just pay someone?”
“I would. Believe me. That would certainly be easier than this dog and pony show. But they’re on about corruption. They want a celebration. And my dear old father loved that party.”
“I won’t go,” David says, his face settling into an expression that reminds Faith of a belligerent teenager.
“You will.” Geoffrey’s face is getting red now.
“Do you think they’ll even want to come?” Between the lines there is another conversation happening that Faith is not privy to.
“ That had nothing to do with us.” His father shuts him down. Faith waits for David to explain but she may as well not even be there. They are ignoring her completely, locked in whatever power struggle is playing out in front of her.
“You don’t think they’ll remember that the last time we hosted a party someone died?” David snaps. Faith’s head whips up toward David.
“Alice?” she says in quiet disbelief.
Now Geoffrey turns his furious eyes on her.
With a startling jolt of velocity his fist beats the table, rattling the plates.
“What that man out there in his little hideaway did to that girl had nothing to do with us. And it was years ago. Enough. It’s done.
About damn time the rest of them realize that too.
He’s the one who is hiding. We don’t need to. ”
Faith blinks and draws back from the table.
“It’s not about hiding, Dad. It’s respect.” Faith looks out toward the water. The house on its stilts no longer looks quaint. Its angular silhouette now looks sinister. A place to escape from, not to.
“Don’t you lecture me about respect, you ingrate,” Geoffrey snaps.
She can see the veins in his head pulsing as he turns back to his dinner, cracking open a claw, and dunking it angrily in butter.
So, this is the Geoffrey Clarke Faith has read so much about.
The tyrant who never takes no for an answer.
Or a giant baby in a bib, swallowing down lobster meat with a disgusting slurp.
She looks back to David, but he seems unperturbed by the outburst. Maybe he’s used to them. “The islanders will be surprised, won’t they?”
“They’ll get over it,” Geoffrey says, finally dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “Hell, they’ll love it. The Clarke Fourth of July is the event of the summer. At least for these people.”
David hesitates but ducks his head into a nod, conceding the fight to his father.
“Okay, glad that’s settled. Time to get out there and show all the little gossip queens and bumpkins on this goddamn island that we have nothing to be ashamed of.
” Geoffrey throws his bunched-up napkin into the center of a puddle of butter and lobster parts on his plate.
He rises from his chair, breathing heavily.
He gives David a rough pat on the shoulder as he passes their side of the table.
“I’ll see you in the morning, son. Bright and early this time. ”
Faith waits for David to turn to her with some sort of mood-lightening grin or explanation, but he remains looking at his father’s empty chair, a vacant expression on his face.
“Are you okay?” Faith gently puts a hand on David’s arm. He flinches.
“Fine,” he says, but she can tell that he barely registers her there. His mind is somewhere else.
Somewhere she isn’t allowed to follow.