Jason.
Mr. Swain-Black rushes up to Jason and takes his hand.
"Darling, everyone, I'd like you to meet a friend from the club. I invited him to dinner and forgot to mention it. Jason Abernathy."
The predator from last night's party strides into the dining room like he owns it.
"Nice to meet you, Jason," Mrs. Swain-Black says graciously. "Forgive us for starting our dinner. We learned only now you were coming."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Jason replies. Then he turns to Chloe and me. "Ah, we meet again."
His eyes linger on my face while a taunting smile spreads across his features.
"You all know one another?" Mr. Swain-Black asks.
"Slightly," Chloe says in a neutral tone.
Jason takes the seat directly across from me. He launches into entertaining stories about Nantucket history. Miss Swain nods approvingly at his knowledge of island lore.
During the fish course, Jason's foot bumps mine under the table.
I shift away.
With the main course, it happens again. No accident this time. His shoe slides against my sandal. Deliberate. Testing my reaction.
I jerk my foot back and glare at him. But he only unleashes that slow, infuriating smile that makes me want to punch him.
"Tara's a student at NYU," Chloe tells Miss Swain.
I'm grateful for the distraction.
"Early childhood education is my official major,” I tell the older woman. “But I've also been admitted to NYU's vocal study program at the Steinhardt School of Music. I sing opera."
"Delightful. I didn't think young people were interested in opera in this day and age."
"I played the lead in Moby Dick at the school's production last year," I say, forcing myself to be bold and direct. "I've read that the Met opera company is spending the first part of the summer here on Nantucket."
"Quite right," says Miss Swain. "I'm a major donor. It would be my pleasure to invite you to their opening night here in Nantucket later this month."
"That's very generous," I say, choosing my words carefully. I know that what I want to say next will sound bold. Brash, even. But I must pose the question. It may be the last time I see Miss Swain again. But before I can say a word, Chloe chimes in.
"Miss Swain, do you think they need someone to help out? Run errands? Tara's between jobs right now."
"Well, I'm not sure they have a budget for paid positions. But I'm happy to make a call."
"That would be wonderful," Chloe says, smiling as she catches my eye.
"Yes, I'd appreciate it very much," I add quickly.
"Good. It's settled." Miss Swain pulls a small leather notebook from her purse. "May I have your contact information?"
I write my name and cell number in her elegant notebook.
"Well, now—it's time for me to leave," Miss Swain announces, rising with a theatrical flourish.
Mr. Swain-Black jumps up to assist, but Jason beats him to it. "Allow me," he says smoothly, offering his arm with practiced gallantry.
He escorts her to the waiting car in the driveway. Through the window, I watch him help her into the backseat with exaggerated care. Even from here, I can see him working his charm.
