He’s wearing a wrinkled button-down shirt and patchwork shorts that look at least two sizes too big on him. It’s clear he borrowed the outfit from someone at the club. I’m wearing my best outfit, too: a long yellow sundress. When I warned Theo that we’d be sharing a car tonight, he took it characteristically in stride.
No way!he texted back.A double date? Let’s go!
I explained that it was just about sharing a ride. At the restaurant, we’ll go our separate ways. It’s an economical, eco-friendly move. The added benefit being that I finally get to interrogate William, who has been making uncomfortable throat-clearing noises ever since he first entered the back seat.
“Just a warning, I don’t believe you’re allowed to wear shorts here,” he says to Theo now.
“Oh, shoot!” Theo exclaims, slapping his palm against his forehead. The noise is shocking. “I borrowed these from my friend, too. I thought they’d be fancy enough.”
“You’re fine,” I jump in to quickly assure him. “You look great. There’s no formal dress code. This is Nantucket. The restaurant is literally on a beach.” I try to mask my annoyance but know I’m failing. William stays silent, but I see his jaw flex in the rearview mirror.
“So.” Rose claps her hands together to break the tension. “How about some music?”
My mom turns on the island radio station. “Love Grows” is playing. I catch Theo’s eyes in the mirror and we both smile.
“We have to invite them to join us,” Theo says twenty minutes later when we are at the restaurant. “Come on, it’s weird.”
“No!” I whisper. “It’s already weird.” We’re sitting at a table in the sand while Rose and William wait for a spot to open up.
“But there’s not even seats at the bar and your mom is wearing heels, and they look sad.”
I turn around to glance at them. Rose is politely smiling, tottering from foot to foot, holding a full glass of Chardonnay, while William moodily sips a martini and scans the crowd. His eyebrows are pulled together like they’re magnets.
William never made a reservation. “They know me here,” he said confidently as he walked up to the hostess stand, flexing his white blazer. “We don’t need to call ahead of time.”
Well, it turns out you do need a reservation, even if your family is rich. It’s late July on Nantucket. Everywhere is packed. Just getting down here took twenty minutes due to traffic. And almost everyone—perhaps with the grand exception of the three of us and the waitstaff—is rich.
“If we invite them to sit with us, we’ll have to listen to William drone on about his yacht all dinner.”
“Hey, he’s not so bad. Might be nice to have a stepdad with a yacht. There are worse things, Lil.”
My nickname in his mouth is thrilling. “Please do not call him my stepdad. For all he talks about sailing, I’m surprised he hasn’t started calling you ‘old sport’ yet. Besides, it’s not like he’s even the one sailing. He has a crew of like twenty, apparently.”
“Well, I feel bad,” says Theo. A thought seems to occur to him. “Hey! Wait, do you think he’ll pay for our dinner if we invite him over?”
“You’re shameless,” I laugh, but he’s already waving them over.
Rose and William walk through the tables to where we are sitting on the beach. A waitress pulls over two additional seats and place settings.
“Care to join us?” I ask.
“Oh, yay!” says Rose, immediately pulling out a chair from the soft sand and sitting down. “Thank you! This is so much fun, it’s like a double date!”
William’s frown deepens while he examines the table. Rose pats the cushion of the chair until he too sits down.
“Thank you for letting us join you,” he says. “Although, I usually prefer to sit inside on the porch, where the wind is blocked.”
“But the sun is just about to set!” I point out, nodding to the ocean. “This is the best view on island.” Behind us the sky is orange sherbet, melting into the impossibly smooth, flat beach.
“I have to politely disagree. My slip downtown has the best view on island.”
It takes every inch of willpower I have to keep my eyeballs fixed in their sockets.
“So, Theo.” William shifts in his seat and changes the topic. “What do you do?”
“I’m a tennis instructor at Great Harbor and I bartend at the Summer House. But I’m going back to school to become a history teacher.”
“You’re going back to school to become a teacher? Isn’t that a little ironic. I’m going to give you a bit of advice: Don’t waste your time. You’ll be up to your knees in debt, and you’ll be lucky if you make eighty grand by the time you’re forty. That’s no income to support a family.”
