Page 3 of We Were Liars

PENNY, CARRIE, AND Bess are the daughters of Tipper and Harris Sinclair.

Harris came into his money at twenty-one after Harvard and grew the fortune doing business I never bothered to understand.

He inherited houses and land. He made intelligent decisions about the stock market.

He married Tipper and kept her in the kitchen and the garden.

He put her on display in pearls and on sailboats. She seemed to enjoy it.

Granddad’s only failure was that he never had a son, but no matter.

The Sinclair daughters were sunburnt and blessed.

Tall, merry, and rich, those girls were like princesses in a fairy tale.

They were known throughout Boston, Harvard Yard, and Martha’s Vineyard for their cashmere cardigans and grand parties.

They were made for legends. Made for princes and Ivy League schools, ivory statues and majestic houses.

Granddad and Tipper loved the girls so, they couldn’t say whom they loved best. First Carrie, then Penny, then Bess, then Carrie again.

There were splashy weddings with salmon and harpists, then bright blond grandchildren and funny blond dogs.

No one could ever have been prouder of their beautiful American girls than Tipper and Harris were, back then.

They built three new houses on their craggy private island and gave them each a name: Windemere for Penny, Red Gate for Carrie, and Cuddledown for Bess.

I am the eldest Sinclair grandchild. Heiress to the island, the fortune, and the expectations.

Well, probably.