After lunch, most of the third generation went down to the beach for a round of horseshoes. After settling Liam and Patrick in with her aunt Martha, Gwen headed down to join the cousins. Wind pulled at her hair, and she hiked up her skirt with a single hand while trekking down the steep hillside to the beach.

Her cousin Joshua, a lanky, athletic man who was studying art at Yale, had teamed up with Natalia, while Cousin Mildred instructed her daughter Penelope-Arabella on the proper way to toss the horseshoe. A trio of other cousins awaited their turn, but everyone stopped the moment Gwen approached.

“Gwen, are you sure that man is really poor Willy?” Mildred asked. “I imagine there are hundreds of men who have a scar on the bottom of their foot. It shouldn’t mean anything.”

“He’s a dead ringer for Theodore,” Natalia pointed out.

“Theodore never scowled like that man does,” Mildred said with a critical glance at the upper terrace, where Liam still sat with the aunts. “I can’t put my finger on it. He seems so crude. Raw. I don’t like the way he walks.”

Gwen raised a brow. “With one foot in front of the other?”

“Yes, but he does it crudely. He lumbers, like he is in a hurry. I should think a man of good breeding would walk in a refined manner. He would glide.”

“I know how to glide,” Penelope-Arabella interjected, but Mildred shot a glare to silence her daughter.

Despite Gwen’s intentions to defend Patrick, it seemed Liam was the only person they wanted to discuss.

“How are we going to explain him to the rest of the world?” Mildred asked. “Are we supposed to actually socialize with him?”

“I will take the lead in introducing Liam to society,” Gwen said. “And I will do so proudly.”

“What about the ten percent of the voting shares?” Edwin asked. “Is Frederick really going to let Liam have them? Ten percent?”

Joshua shifted in discomfort. “It doesn’t seem fair. I’ve been a member of this family for twenty-one years, and all I’ve got is one percent.”

“Cry me a river of tears,” Natalia said. “You dabble in watercolors, but I’ve been working at the bank for the past ten years, and I don’t get a single share.”

“Art is every bit as hard as your finance work,” Joshua shot back. “Watercolors are the most unforgiving medium in the entire art world. Everyone knows that. And I still don’t think it’s fair that Liam gets ten percent right off the bat.”

“That man is a welder,” Mildred said in a horrified whisper. “A welder!” She clutched the horseshoe before her chest as though it were armor to protect her from the distasteful word.