Page 27 of Summer on Lilac Island

“Do you plan on going swimming?” Eloise asked. She was waiting for Gigi by the door. They were heading over to the cruise

together.

“Obviously not,” Gigi said. “The water’s freezing.”

“Then why are you dressed like that?” Eloise’s eyes swept Gigi like a bristly broom. “It’s see-through.”

Gigi was wearing a bikini with a sheer cover-up. She was old enough now that she didn’t throw teenage tantrums or sneak out

her bedroom window. More obvious forms of insurgence had become rather mundane, but she still got joy from the smaller things

that sent Eloise spinning without giving her enough reason to actually reprimand Gigi.

“It’s fashion,” Gigi countered. “I consider it part of my civic duty to bring twenty-first-century trends to Mackinac. Otherwise

they won’t arrive for another decade, at least.”

Eloise seemed to be trying hard not to take the bait. Gigi had to admit she was getting a little better at it. She draped

a beach towel over Gigi’s shoulders. Gigi let it stay. She would shed it on the boat, make a statement.

They walked over to the dock. Eloise kept an aggressive pace. Gigi lagged, kicking pebbles with her rubbery flip-flops.

Gigi was looking forward to getting out on the open water.

She was feeling trapped from spending so much time in Thistle Dew, sinking into that old couch, sleeping in that tiny twin bed.

It was nice of Eloise to take her as her plus-one for the cruise, though since she’d shut down Clyde, it wasn’t like there was anyone else she would’ve invited.

The euchre ladies all helped organize the event, and Nonni won her own ticket for winning the senior bracket of the pickleball tournament with Liam.

She was already on board so she could load up on freebies before the food was picked over.

The Great Depression lived on in Nonni’s rapacious approach to buffets and open bars.

Gigi thought about what Eloise had said to her yesterday, about how she created options for herself. It was true, she reflected,

and nice to have her mother see it. The issue was Gigi didn’t know which option she wanted to create next. No matter where

she lived or what she did for work, it would feel like a new version of an old life. Gigi had never thought before that change

could become repetitive, but it seemed like that was exactly what was happening.

The evening air wasn’t warm or cool. The neutrality of it all held a comfort that disagreed with Gigi, who craved more polarity.

Clouds blotted the sky like bandages.

Gigi stalled for photos on the walk over. She posed against the most iconic backdrops (horses, fudge shops, the lake), all

filtered to perfection so her friends in LA might be jealous when they saw the pictures on social media. Perhaps they’d text

her to check in, maybe even ask to visit.

“We’re late,” Eloise chided.

“This is why I need an electric scooter,” Gigi said.

“Or it’s why we should ban cell phones.”

Gigi had been hoping for a yacht, but it was the same shoddy vessel as always, decorated with crêpe paper streamers and droopy

helium balloons. They showed their tickets and walked on.

The cruise boat was packed with both islanders and fudgies. Tourists delighted in meeting locals, inquiring about their lifestyle

as if they were a primitive species (“What do you do for food in the winter?” “Do you get vaccines for the germs that horse

excrement carries?” “Do cousins marry each other, given the size of the gene pool?”).

The boat smelled like charred barbecue. James and Lillian were seated at a table alongside Lillian’s parents. They seemed to be getting along well, Gigi noted with displeasure. She’d entertained a fantasy of a nasty split, both of them blaming each other for the cornhole loss.

Gigi thought again about how frustrated James had seemed by all the talk about him and Lillian, and yet here he was, feeding

into the rumors himself. He lacked a spine, that was all there was to it. He desired Lillian’s attention yet wanted to keep

his options open. Gigi had seen this film before.

Even Lillian deserved better.

Nonni was at the bar sipping a dirty martini, not with Liam but with Mr. Murdick, one of the fudge shop owners. Liam was watching

at a distance, looking dispirited. Good for Nonni, Gigi thought, keeping Liam wanting more, making him jealous. Nonni might

as well go for it with Liam. It wasn’t like it was cheating when your husband had been in the grave seven years. But Nonni

didn’t see it like that.

Gigi had half expected Eloise’s Ronny reports to be a ruse, but sure enough, he was behind the DJ board. He was still in his

officer uniform and wore polarized aviators.

“There he is,” Eloise said. But she wasn’t looking at Ronny or Mr. Townsend. Her gaze was on Clyde, who was talking with Kitty

and Paula by the buffet. “He’s getting the ladies on his side, I’m sure of it.”

“There are no sides,” Gigi said. “It was a first date, not a divorce.”

Eloise pulled her shawl around her shoulders, covering the pretty red dress underneath. Gigi had never seen the dress before,

but when she’d asked if it was new, Eloise had frowned and said, “Anything but.”

Gigi loaded her plate with beer-battered curly fries, artichoke dip, and soggy pickles. “Such great vegetarian options,” she

commented wryly.

“Are you getting enough protein?” Eloise asked, half concerned, half distracted. She was staring at the back of Clyde’s top

hat. “He’s flirting with everyone on this boat.”

“He’s not flirting,” Gigi said. “That’s just his personality.”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t make me feel very special, does it?”

Eloise was a walking contradiction. Gigi should try to listen better, but she didn’t have the capacity to hold the stress

of both her mother’s life and her own. She chose her own, as every survivalist did. Gigi was not Rebecca, after all.

“I thought you didn’t want to feel special,” Gigi said. “I thought you wanted to just be friends.”

“Not now, Georgiana.”

Gigi went to the bar for an IPA. By the time she returned, Eloise and Nonni had sat down at Lillian and James’s table. Gigi

thought about taking her plate to another table just to make a point. Instead, she sat down next to James and thought about

how even if James had liked her, they would have been doomed since they were both leaving at the end of summer. It made her

feel a little better.

“Curly fries and pickles,” James said, glancing at her plate. “Quite a victory dinner.”

Gigi crunched on the fries. “Glad to get a doctor’s approval.” She would give him nothing except proof that she was not pining

for him. Pointing her chair away from him slightly, she tried to cut the connection between them. It didn’t work. Her body

was still fidgety. She bounced her knee.

From across the way, Clyde was stealing surreptitious glances over at Eloise.

“He’s looking at you again,” Gigi muttered to Eloise.

“Who are you talking about?” Nonni asked. She’d assembled a tower of oatmeal raisin cookies from the dessert bar and was wrapping

them in napkins, packing them in her bulging purse.

Eloise looked down at her plate. She cut up her pulled pork into even smaller shreds. “Nothing,” she said. “We’re talking

about nothing.”