Osprey Island

Heather had crammed for that final together, up all night in the lounge of her dorm, drinking coffee from the vending machine in the basement. That world seemed a lot more than three thousand miles and a few months away.

Gavin approached the party coolly and squatted down like the rose-dressed woman. “Hi again,” he said to the kids. He smiled shyly at the women.

Squee said, “Hi,” then just stood there, looking at Gavin. No mention had been made at all of the fact that it was Gavin who’d pulled Squee from the Squires’ cabin the night of the fire. Not that mention should have been made; it wasn’t a big deal, really, and it wasn’t that Gavin wanted a spotlight. He just wasn’t sure if Squee remembered or recognized him or not, and it seemed weird to have that hanging out there somehow, to know, I was there when your mother died.

Mia said, “What’s your name?”

“Gavin,” said Gavin, but then couldn’t think of anything else, so he said, “What’s yours?” though he already knew.

“That’s Mia,” Squee said, protective as an older brother, as if to feel out Gavin’s intentions before he’d allow Mia to talk with him.

The squatting woman pushed herself creakily back to standing, unfurling a hand as she rose and extending it to Gavin. He stood as well. “Hi, Gavin,” she said. “I’m Eden Jacobs, and this is Reesa Delamico, and that big boy is Ryan Delamico. Can you say hello, Ryan?”

“Huh-lo,” said Ryan dutifully.

“Nice to meet you,” said Reesa. She smiled broadly. And though she’d just done Heather Beekin’s mother’s hair the afternoon before and therefore probably knew more about Gavin’s romance and breakup with Heather than Gavin knew himself, she didn’t say a word, just acted like anyone making a new acquaintance.

Gavin wasn’t very good with people, and he stood dumbly, as if he didn’t know how he’d managed to get where he was without pausing for a panic attack, during which he’d have clearly realized he was heading for a place full of people he didn’t know, and ditched the whole plan entirely.

And then, as if in response to his thoughts, suddenly there was the girl from the Luncheonette, sidling over to join their cluster, saying, “Hey, Reese, you got a light?” as she breezed in, cigarette poised at her lips. Reesa’s arms were full of Ryan, and she shrugged her apologies, but Gavin was already whipping a pack of matches out of his pocket and fumbling to light one for her. She paused as he got it lit, and then leaned in toward him like an old- time movie star. The cigarette caught, and Gavin fanned out the match while she inhaled deeply, blew the smoke out over her shoulder, and grinned. Eden, who heartily disapproved of all forms of smoking, gave a cough of distress and bowed out of the circle, saying, “Gavin, lovely to meet you,” and scuttled off toward the house.

Reesa stood watching the cigarette lighting with distinct amusement, and as Janna took another drag and let the smoke escape slowly from the corner of her mouth, Reesa’s face broke in her famous smile, and she said, with the graciousness of a southern debutante, “Gavin, have you met Janna Winger? Janna works for me down at the salon.”

Gavin shrank into himself defensively as he extended his hand, as though Janna might not shake it but grab hold and slap him to the ground in some exotic karate flip.

“Janna,” Reesa said, her smirk only growing, “Gavin.”

“We had breakfast together this morning,” Janna said.

“Oh!” exclaimed Reesa. “Well, I guess you know each other a lot better than I thought!”

Janna turned to Reesa and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, please . . .”

“We were both at the Luncheonette,” Gavin explained, “not together, just both there . . .”

“So you working over at the Lodge this summer?” Janna asked.

Gavin sucked his lower lip and nodded rocking on his heels. “Outfit give me away?” he said. “Did you have a chance to take a look at our specials this evening . . . ?” He was ridiculously nervous, trying desperately for the joke.

Janna acted as if he hadn’t said anything at all. She spoke in a hush, as if imparting a piece of vital and delicate information. “If you ask me, Heather was really a bitch about the whole thing.”

Gavin blanched. Reesa scolded, “Janna!”

Gavin was looking back and forth between them, the truth of his situation dawning on him fully. “Oh, Jesus” was all he could say.

“We graduated together,” Janna was saying. “In a class of thirteen kids,” she added. “Doesn’t take too long for word to spread.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Gavin said again. He buried his head in his hands.

Twelve

ON THE INTERACTION OF SPECIES

[A]t present the place is a grubby fishing port of dirt lanes strewn with sun-baked fish heads, eatery floors tramped with mud and blood and salt. A moss bunker refinery destroys the western shoreline—great smelting kettles and massive iron drums, the smell that emanates therefrom is enough to raise the dead. But where others less visionary will come away with only a visceral memory of the unrelenting stink, I see here a great hotel, stately, luxurious suites overlooking the majestic sunset shore. There will be tennis courts, a bathing pavilion, a restaurant and theater, and on a Sunday afternoon the ladies from Fishersburg and Menhadenport will stroll the whitewashed docks, parasols cocked overhead as they watch the schooners set sail into the bay.

—SYLVESTER DANIEL, investor, from an 1869 letter to his wife, Amelia

DEMOLITION FIRST. Then, construction. Bud, needing all the manpower he had, even cycled his waiters into the crew. Besides, it was pretty much free labor: the