So Harper takes off his shirt. He steps into the dress, yanks it up over his chest. There are cap sleeves. Fake seed pearls. Fake buttons up the back. Was there really a time when women wore dresses like this and no one thought it was strange and everyone pretended that they looked beautiful and cried? How much did Fleur pay? There’s a tag still attached. $3,000. A line through that. More prices, all crossed out. Fleur sees Thanh looking. You know I didn’t pay more than fifty bucks for any of them, she says. Harper and Thanh were married in a courthouse office. They wore good suits. Red boxers, because red is lucky. Luck is necessary. Here’s marriage advice Thanh could give Fleur. Be lucky.

How are the yurts? Thanh asks the woman from the van. Marianne? Or Laura. Whatever. The yurts? Really nice, the woman says. I’ve always wanted to stay in a yurt. Me, too, Thanh says. He’s never entertained a single thought about a yurt in his entire life. Here, the woman says, will you zip me up? He zips her up. You look nice, he says. Really, she says. Yes, he says. It suits you somehow. But she doesn’t seem pleased by this, the way she was pleased about the yurt. Maybe because it’s such an awful dress. The (un)caterers are playing Hearts on the steps. Harper says to Fleur, I need to go back over to the mainland again. Work. Fleur says, Tide’s in. I don’t know when the boat is back over. It’s already come once this morning, with groceries. Maybe after lunch? First we’re going to go on an expedition. Put on a dress. (This to Thanh.) You guys, too. (This to the caterers.) Think of it as information gathering in field settings. Everybody needs coffee, grab coffee.

Everyone is amenable. Wedding guests in wedding dresses grab coffee and fruit and premade breakfast sandwiches. They put on sunblock, or hats, and troop off after Fleur. Thanh and Harper go along. Everyone goes. Even the caterers.