“No one throws me out of a boat,” said Papa. “I’ll admit I didn’t like him, and he was drunk, and so I left him alone.”

“What about the boat?” Edmund looked stricken.

“He’ll return it. I showed him where to tie up. There’s plenty of light out there. Don’t tell anyone. Dee wouldn’t be happy that I took a swim during my own party. Where is she?”

“Maude took Dee and the aunties home,” said Polly.

“I’ll take you to them, then,” said Papa. “It’s late, and now I’ve gotten your blanket wet. Gather your things.” He took the palm of his massive hand and covered the top of Polly’s head, swiveling gently so that he messed up her hair, pushing down so that she giggled and fell to her knees, batting at his legs. He did the same thing to Edmund, who shrieked as he dropped.

They took Arnold’s convertible and Polly ran her finger on the goose bumps on Papa’s skin while he made dramatic sounds of suffering about the cold. Edmund waved his arms around to stay warm and Lemon barked. At the house, Maude and the aunts were drinking around the table. None of them seemed surprised to see Papa wet.

Maude said, “Don’t bother saying anything.”

Polly and Edmund were whipped up to their small pallets, the cushions on either side of Jane and Merle’s bed. They were asleep within minutes.

But in the morning, thoughts of the lost boat tortured Edmund. He cleared his throat and coughed until Polly woke. Merle was snoring and Jane’s head was hidden by pillows. From Polly’s side cushions, she watched Edmund’s hand, disembodied on the far side, theatrically point to the door.

They crept down the stairs. The counters were covered with half-finished cases of wine and food. They picked up handfuls—grapes, ham, cheesy Italian bread—and jammed them in their mouths. Edmund’s eye was black from Rita’s blow, and both of them were sunburnt. Even Lemon was tired and they prodded her up. She trotted along with them on the path like a dog that knew how to heel.

The tide was just beginning to go out, and the wind of the night before had died to nothing, and the Sound was flat and mirrored. They walked far down the beach, Polly humoring Edmund, who would not stop fretting about the rowboat, and when they came around the point they saw it immediately, dragging its anchor and twenty feet out in shallow water. Edmund gave a howl and splashed out to grab it, moving faster than Polly, who saw the thing on the beach. Edmund didn’t notice the body until he was towing the boat back in, almost to the shore, and when he stopped the boat bumped into him, and some loose metal trim on the side cut his leg.