Phylida and Sebastian moved off to find food. A man with a foreign accent came up to me and said I was not to worry: even though he’d lost ten million dollars when he consolidated his businesses, the former premier of France was on his new executive board. He then drank his drink, said nothing, and stared at me. Another man joined us, holding a cigarette. His face had fine lines like an apple going soft. He said he thought the island was beautiful. People chatted. An older woman pulled on the skin of her throat and said, “I’m going to have this done.” At the other end of the lawn I spotted Phylida chewing; her mouth was full and she waved her hand furiously through the air at me in an exaggerated gleeful way—there was no sorrow in her jaw. I didn’t have the money to marry that girl. Originally I liked her because she looked dumb. I didn’t know she was a doctor. She swam some delicacy in front of her mouth to taunt me before popping it, and a bullfrog bellowed sadly nearby, similar to the noise my dad made when he let one go; my heart felt like an anvil, it was pulling me down.

Candles were being lit inside the tent. I picked up the scent of pipe tobacco and gardenias. The moon came out. I spotted Bob in a blue tie and red silk pocket square and a straw-colored coat that was already damply dark under the arms and along the back from sweat. The last time I spoke to him was three months earlier when he left me waiting at a Thai restaurant until I gave up, because on the way over Sheslow beeped him. “Well,” he said. The deep voice. He shook hands with everyone and then gave me a slap on the back, a broad, thick hand with rock-hard fingers kneading into my trapezius muscle like it was about to tear it off the bone. He sucked in air. “It’s terrific to see you.”

“Yeah?”

“Come with me.”

I wondered if Bob was taking me aside to explain why he’d chosen me as an usher and to give me a Tiffany sterling-silver fountain pen with my initials. I wondered if maybe he was flipping out and needed to talk seriously right now about marrying Niloo. He pulled out a set of keys. The sky was dusky and you could see fireflies.

He said, “My father-in-law brought some wine in his car. Would you just give me a hand?”

As we looked for the car in an open field beside the patio I reminded Bob we hadn’t spoken in months. He tried to remember our last talk. “I’m at a loss,” he said, smiling. He asked me about work.

I shifted my coat and nothing occurred to me. I shrugged.