TARA
At 8 p.m. sharp, we arrive at Miss Swain’s estate. Miss Swain herself answers the door.She looks beautiful—her hair freshly done, diamonds glittering at her throat.
"My darling Tara," she says, greeting me with a kiss on each cheek. "And this must be the famous singer we've all heard so much about."
"Guilty as charged," says Cameron, showing his charm. "This is my daughter Posey."
Posey curtsies and introduces Edison, who woofs in response.
"Delightful child! Tara, why don't you introduce Posey to Jill and Joan, sitting over there with Chloe? Meanwhile, I'll introduce your handsome employer around."
Miss Swain takes Cameron’s hand and leads him away.
Well, that's a good sign, I think to myself. Seeing their socialite hostess introduce him around is a huge point in his favor. "Posey, I'd like to introduce you to some lovely girls about your age. Follow me."
Chloe and I greet one another with hugs and squeals. "Chloe, I'd like you to meet the little girl I nanny. This is Miss Posey."
"I'm not a Miss," Posey corrects with a little curtsy, "but pleased to meet you."
"Well, pleased to meet you too. These are my charges: Joan and Jill Swain-Black."
"Posey Abernathy!" Joan exclaims. "Aren't you the girl who got swallowed by a whale but then he spat you out?"
"No!" Jill says. "Posey didn't get spat out! She told the story of an old fisherman who got swallowed and spit out."
Posey's face lights up with pride that her storytelling has spread among the Nantucket children.
"Would you like me to tell it again?" Posey asks eagerly.
"Yes, please!" the twins cry in unison.
They settle onto a red velvet sofa in the corner. Posey gesticulates with exaggerated movements as she launches into her tale, clearly enjoying being the center of attention.Just like her father.
"So how's it going?" Chloe asks, her eyes filled with concern as she turns her attention to me. "I heard what happened yesterday with Cameron and that photographer. You were there to see it?"
"Worse. So was Posey. Things are back to normal now. Well, almost."
I glance across the room and see Miss Swain introducing Cameron to people who seem pleased to meet him.
"Your boss is cute!" she says, catching the direction of my gaze. "What's it like to work for him?"
"Nice," I say, forcing a shrug. "Normal."
Before Chloe asks me any more questions, I hear the doorbell ring and see Salty entering the room. I excuse myself and rush over.
"Salty! So nice to see you. Never figured you for an opera supporter."
"Indeed, I am," he says with a grin. "I'm often Miss Swain's plus-one—or date, you might say. I escort her to cultural events when she summers in the Hamptons."
The image of Salty and Miss Swain together makes me want to laugh.
"How did you two meet? You seem like you're from such different worlds."
"We were high-school sweethearts."
I nearly gasp in surprise hearing these words.
"Well, not exactly high school," he clarifies. "Emma Swain went to that fancy Miss Porter's private school. But when her family summered here, we were inseparable. We could never date openly, of course—not while her parents were alive. That wouldn't have been proper. But we kept our friendship all these years."
