It was then that Abigail, who’d always managed the household finances, started the cost-cutting measures and the excuses in earnest. One by one, she shed the pieces of her identity visible to the outside world that were sucking up cash. She dropped the membership at the yacht club and switched to a golf-only plan at the country club. (She never really liked tennis anyway, except the outfits. She would miss the cute skirts.) She jettisoned her charity commitments, like the hospital auxiliary and the home for women in recovery, which always seemed to come with a rather hefty suggested donation in addition to hours of volunteer time. She wrote the membership chairs lovely notes, explaining that now that she and George were retired, they wanted to do as much traveling as possible, which of course was a lie.

They stopped attending fundraising dinners, luncheons, and any event with a silent auction. Truth was, Abigail didn’t really miss most of the social activities. She was over small talk and feigning interest in other people’s children. Her go-to excuse for not attending became something vague about using all her free time to finally organize the house and do a little downsizing. She felt like she sold it to her fellow Fair Harbor mothers and wives, who nodded in agreement, as if Saturday night were the natural time to run old stuffed animals to the Goodwill.

But it was with the heaviest heart that she withdrew from the Coventry Garden Club, an organization devoted to beautification and that had once favored hands-on gardening over galas. Recently, the focus had changed to luxury group trips to events like the Chelsea Flower Show or private tours of the Alhambra in Granada, none of which she could afford, even in the good old days. Her resignation from this group felt like cutting the last tie to her privileged life as she knew it, but she told herself that nobody noticed that Abigail Blakeman was fading away. She was simply reorganizing.

She thanked her stars that she had the sense to secure her lifetime membership in the Daughters of the American Revolution with a hefty donation in the early aughts. She’d never give up her heritage.

Beyond the social connections, there were no opera tickets or Broadway matinees or dinners out at eateries that were not at the golf club, where they had to use that monthly minimum. The Mercedes was old, but not quite vintage, so she kept it as clean as she could to fool people. Thank goodness both she and George favored simple tailored clothes that never went out of style, at least in her opinion. She felt like they were at least keeping up appearances. Weren’t they?