Each year at the ball, Shannon couldn’t help but be reminded of James. She was sure Wren was, too, which was probably why she hadn’t gone in any of the years since she showed up in that awful pink dress with Darby Vale and broke James’s heart wide open in front of half his fishing fleet. It was unlike her. And it stung Shannon that Wren had kept them all in the dark over something so important.
When the sisters were younger, they’d shared everything. Late at night they’d whisper across the dark expanse between their twin beds: secrets, confessions, fears. Who Wren prayed she’d get a Valentine card from in sixth grade. Which boy Shannon danced with at the middle school holiday soiree. Shannon showed Wren her first training bra and didn’t tease her when she caught her trying it on in the bathroom one day. All of that seemed to change after their father left, though Shannon wasn’t quite sure why. Just as she wasn’t sure what had happened between Wren and James that night of the ball.
For two years the two were inseparable. Wren was working in town as a bookkeeper and James worked on dayboats out of Rock Harbor in Orleans and Chatham. During their two years together, Shannon couldn’t think of a summer night that the two weren’t together. They went to bonfires at Harding Beach, headed over to Wellfleet for a drive-in movie, or drove up the arm of the Cape to Provincetown for some nightlife. Or they hung out on the front porch, sipping beers and watching the sun set over Chatham Light. James was a staple at Lindy’s Sunday Something-Rather Dinner Party, the one who brought fresh bay scallops or bluefish, striped bass or mussels fresh off of his boat or a boat of his fellow fleet. Along with a six-pack of beer. As far as the family was concerned, they were holding their breath for an announcement of engagement.
Instead Wren had shocked them in a dry-eyed moment one summer night when she’d ended the relationship. A week later she attended the Hooker’s Ball with Darby Vale. Wren proceeded to laugh too loudly and carry on too obviously, making a bit of a spectacle of herself on the dance floor. Shannon couldn’t help but wonder if it was in large part for James’s benefit. James had arrived late and alone, looking solemn as he stood on the edge of the crowd with fellow fishermen. More than once Shannon caught him staring sadly at Wren as Darby spun her around or led her from table to table, holding court as if the party were their own. At one point, Beverly had directed Shannon to retrieve her from the refreshment table: “Your sister is partaking in more than her fair share of the celebrations. It’s time to collect her glass slippers and summon the pumpkin.”
When Shannon asked Wren about it the next morning, Wren was tightlipped and sullen. “Aren’t I allowed to have a little fun?” she’d asked.
A few weeks later, after James had moved away, Wren announced her pregnancy. They all knew it was James’s baby. It drove Lindy mad. There were long debates about women’s rights and bodies, largely from Wren and Piper. Followed by reminders of paternal rights from Lindy. And strong suggestions to seek legal counsel. What about child support? Did she understand the lifetime financial commitment of raising a child? Could she really manage that alone? And worse, as far as Shannon was concerned, what if he changed his mind down the road and wanted to be a part of the child’s life? What if he wanted custody?
The one thing they agreed on and that kept them circling back to one another was their support of Wren: she would not hear of anything except having the baby. As her belly stretched and swelled over the coming months, the women’s focus shifted from father to baby. Wren had made her wishes known, and if she said she’d handle it and raise the baby alone, they’d step in line and close their lips on the matter. In the end it was Lindy who reminded them all that there were things they could do alone if that was their choice.
Shannon had never agreed with her sister’s decision to keep the news from James, and she’d spent plenty of time trying to convince her to reach out to him. But in the end, it was her sister’s life to lead.
Tonight, as she walked under the white tent, Shannon reminded herself to try to be in the moment, as Dr. Weber routinely advised her. Something that had been harder to do since her father had returned. She pushed back at the memory of James and the worries about Caleb Bailey. Tonight was hers to enjoy. Her grandmother was in town, her friend Ellis was joining her, and for the first time in many years, her whole family would be at the ball. Best of all was the news she’d gotten from her mother-in-law that morning.
“Mr. Banks liked your work. The photo coverage is yours,” Bitsy said.
Shannon did a little dance in the middle of her kitchen. Did she detect joy in Bitsy’s voice, or was it her imagination?
“I think your family connection went a long way,” Bitsy added. “But let’s keep our private lives separate from work, all right?”
It was just her imagination. So what if Shannon’s connection to the famed Caleb Bailey had played a role in her getting the job? It was also true that Everett Banks hadn’t agreed to work with her until he’d seen the photos. Couldn’t Bitsy throw her a bone?
Feeling celebratory, Shannon had taken her time getting ready for the ball. She’d selected a sleek white jumpsuit from her closet. Her blonde hair was slicked back, revealing the vintage gold drop earrings Beverly had given her on her wedding day. As they walked hand in hand beneath the tent, he leaned in and whispered, “I’m the envy of every man here tonight, honey.”
While Reid went to get drinks, Shannon perused the silent auction tables. Their old friends from Stage Harbor, Ellis and Sam, arrived, and Shannon waved them over. “Thank God,” she told them. “You beat my family and my mother-in-law.”
Ellis was a regular at the ball and used to this. “Which table are you sitting at this year?”
Between Bitsy and Beverly, Shannon had felt a silent tug of war, so each year she and Reid tried to appease both matriarchs by taking turns at their tables, as divorced couples do with Thanksgiving. It was ridiculous, but the only way she knew to manage it. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m actually glad to be at Bitsy’s this year.”
Reid arrived with drinks and promptly handed one over to Ellis.
“How’s your father doing?” she asked. Shannon had not shared any of the news of her father with Ellis, but apparently word got around.
Shannon shrugged. “How should I know?” Then, when she saw the look on Ellis’s face, “Wren said he’s out of the hospital. But let’s focus on fun tonight, okay?”
They spent the evening mingling, and Shannon was reminded why she so enjoyed this event each summer. Unlike the Yacht Club events where she knew every man, woman, and child, let alone dog, the ball was an interesting mix of attendees. There were the fishermen and -women, of course. And the local business people. There were sponsors from the bank and some of the restaurants. But there were the board of directors and staff, whom she found most interesting. The Fisherman’s Alliance comprised an eclectic and necessary group of scientists, ecosystem advocates, financial advisors, and commercial fishing industry people all focused on the same cause. It created a camaraderie and bridge between people who might not otherwise cross paths. Having grown up in Chatham, this fascinated her.
Shannon made her way to the bar for another drink. Her family had still not arrived, and for a worried moment she wondered if something else had happened with her father. Not that she would’ve changed her mind about seeing him. She’d told Wren as much the night before on the phone. And she’d steeled herself for their response to her absence when she saw them tonight. But they were late, and Beverly was never late to the ball. This raised a small flag of worry on her very small island of concern.
Ellis and Sam had taken their seats with friends from the neighborhood, and Reid found her now. “You’re having another?”
“Why do you ask?” She looked back at him levelly. Was he keeping count?
“I could’ve gotten it for you.”
The president of the board of directors was standing on the stage in front of the band, and he tapped the microphone. There was a murmuring and shufflin
g as people made their way under the tent to their respective tables. Shannon and Reid took their seats.
“I would like to welcome you all to the twenty-sixth annual Hooker’s Ball,” the president began. A round of applause echoed through the crowd, and it was then Shannon spotted her family seated across the way. She was relieved. Hank and Lindy looked happy, sitting closely. Beverly sat regally beside them, followed by Piper. It was Wren’s presence that caught Shannon by surprise. She’d come! They all looked lovely, a perfectly normal family dressed in their summer whites and pastels, the picture of functionality from a distance. Shannon took a deep sip of her vodka tonic. The night was young.
Once the speeches were made, and the guests were urged to “bid and bid healthily!” for the auction items, the music started up again. Everyone rose to mingle. Drinks were poured, the food tables opened, and the evening suddenly took on a cheerful energy. Shannon found herself swaying to the music in her seat. Where had Reid gone? She wanted to dance!
She found him across the tent, leaning over her family’s table chatting. Shannon drew in her breath and approached.
Wren looked up first. The second she saw Shannon coming, her expression changed.
“Honey! Don’t you look nice.” Lindy popped up and pecked her on the cheek. As did Hank. There seemed to be no ill will there. Shannon bent down and kissed her grandmother. “My earrings!” Beverly exclaimed. “How nice.”
That’s what all of it felt like to Shannon. Niceties. Except for Wren, of course.
“I hear last night was rather eventful.” She looked at Wren. “But also successful.”
“Oh, yes.” Lindy was shaking her head, as if she still couldn’t believe it. “We weren’t sure we were going to make it tonight, but we haven’t missed one yet. I figured it’d be good to get everyone out.”
“Blow the stink off us,” Beverly added.
“Though it was a huge success for the Fisherman’s Daughter,” Hank added. Here he raised his glass, and everyone followed suit. Shannon, too, though her glass was suddenly empty, it seemed.
“Well, I was sorry to miss it,” she admitted. Wren was fiddling with her purse, but Shannon knew she heard. “You deserve all the success.”
Wren nodded but managed to look past her at the same time.
“How’s he doing?” Reid asked. Shannon gave him a grateful look.
“Well, that’s another story,” Lindy said, looking somewhat displeased. “Your sister has moved him in with her.”
“What?” She’d just talked to Wren last night. How much could her family have possibly stirred up since?
“I’m not leaving him in the motel,” Wren said, looking meaningfully at all of them. Apparently, Shannon had missed discussions, as well.
“But the doctor discharged him, honey. Isn’t he all right?” Lindy looked concerned.
“He needs to get his strength back.”
This sounded to Shannon to be more than a mere collapse of fatigue, which was what Lindy had described to her that morning. But Wren was the peacemaker, and if she wanted to bring him home and help him out, she couldn’t argue.
“As long as it isn’t too much for you,” Lindy pressed. “You just opened your store last night. Honestly.”
There was an extended stretch of silence where everyone stared at their empty plates.
“So, Piper didn’t make it?” Reid asked.
“Oh, she’s here somewhere.” Lindy glanced around the tent. “You know Piper, she’s probably sitting at another table chatting, having forgotten the rest of us. Her family . . .” Her thoughts drifted off. Lindy was still wrestling with Piper’s announcement that she would not be teaching, after all. She didn’t blame her, so much as pity her. Mothers never stopped mothering.
“Well, I’m going to give my best to Bitsy,” Beverly announced. It was a welcome change of topic. Reid and Hank rushed to offer her their hands, and she took both. Clever vixen, Shannon thought. She made way and watched the two men escort her to the table at a snail’s pace, Beverly’s kitten heels flashing with each step. Reid was such a gentleman. She really ought to be nicer to him, she decided.
On that note, and feeling the good cheer of her vodka tonic, Shannon sat beside Wren. “Come have some steamers with me?”
Wren rolled her eyes. Everyone in the family knew she hated steamers.
“You know you want to.” Shannon poked her sister gently. “Those rubbery little guys. They slip right down your throat so quick you won’t even know what hit you. They taste like chicken,” she added for good measure.
Wren made a face, but a smile was starting at the corners of her mouth. “Shannon, please.”
“Come on, tip some back with me.”
“That would be oysters.”
“Whatever. Bivalves, all of them.” Shannon was feeling punchy. She was getting to her sister, she could tell.
“Oh, fine.” Wren stood and dumped her purse on her chair. “Just stop talking.”
Shannon felt elated to be walking through the tent with her sister. Wren was talking to her—well, listening to her talk, at least. And it was a gorgeous night, pink and starry as the remains of the sunset stretched across the sky. It had been years since Wren had come with the family to the ball, and for a beat Shannon felt fresh and girlish, like she used to when they walked under the tent together in their summer best, turning heads as people would murmur and stare, whispering, “There go the Bailey girls.” Wren was still a beauty, had always been the prettiest of the three. If the quietest. But sometimes Shannon felt her beauty was overlooked, as Piper presented herself so forcefully to the world. And Shannon, well—she knew what she did. She was vocal. And assertive. She didn’t present herself, so much as position herself. And so, she and Piper usually got more of the attention, if not for the right reasons.
Now, as they approached the raw bar, she looped her arm through Wren’s, playfully. But her tone was serious. “Listen. I really am sorry about last night. I wanted to be there.” She picked up a plate and handed it to her.
Wren took it. “Then you should have been.”
“Hey. We talked about this.”
“And you definitely should’ve been there at the hospital. How could you just hang up like that? Do you have any idea what that was like for me and Piper?”
Shannon hadn’t expected her to be this mad. It was their turn in line. The older woman serving the oysters pointed to the sign. “Wellfleet, Duxbury, or WiAnno?” she asked.
“Which are more briny?” Shannon asked, feeling flustered.
“The Duxbury are quite buttery,” the woman said. “But if you like salt, the Wellfleet are perfect.”
They took their oysters to a stand-up table to sample. Wren tipped hers back in silence.
“Look, I don’t think it’s fair of you to drag this out. You know how I feel about Dad. I’m sorry he’s sick, and I worry about how this impacts you, but it doesn’t change how I feel about him.”
Wren was shaking her head, in disgust or frustration, Shannon couldn’t say. Damn Caleb Bailey. He was back, and he was dividing them even when he wasn’t present. And he was taking advantage of Wren and moving in, at the worst possible time of all, as she opened her new shop!
“What can I do to help at the shop?” Shannon asked. Maybe this was something she could take off Wren’s plate. The photography for the Ridgevale house was done, and the listing confirmed. Bitsy was off her case. “Can I take over a shift for you? How about I take Lucy to the club with the kids one afternoon? Or three?” She was trying.
Wren looked exhausted. “Shannon, last night was pretty bad. I know Mom said he’s going to be fine . . . but it’s not that simple.” She stopped, as if unsure what to say.
Shannon draped an arm around Wren’s bare shoulders. “I know. It’s all complicated. I want to help, but I can’t help with Dad. Tell me what I can do to help you. Will you let me do that at least?” She was losing patience.
“Shannon, if you’d just come see him. I think y
ou’d understand if you saw him.”
Shannon slammed her drink down. “Enough.” She spun around looking for Reid, but the tent was spinning, and the flickering lights got to her. She reached for the edge of another table but grabbed the tablecloth instead. It yanked out from under the food plates and glassware that were on it, sweeping it all away from the couple who’d been eating there and onto the ground. The woman gasped, and the man bent to help Shannon. “Oh, God. Sorry! I’m so sorry.” She was already on her knees picking up the strewn plates, collecting pieces of shrimp and chunks of fish from the blades of grass. When she stood the woman looked at her open-mouthed. Streaks of cocktail sauce smeared the front of her white top. “Shit,” she muttered.
Wren appeared at her side with napkins. “Shannon,” she hissed.
Shannon took the whole wad and began swiping at her top, but it only resulted in smearing the red stain further across her chest. She wished the man would stop staring at her—couldn’t he see this was embarrassing enough already? “What about seltzer?” he suggested warily.
Sailing Lessons Page 26
