“Careful? Careful of what? Of Thorpe?”

She looked up. “All them. Them Government House, they friends. Something bad gwine happen, Miss Lulu. Be brewing in the air, like some storm.”

“Well, that’s why I’m washing my hands of that business, like I told you,” I said. “Now where the devil are the champagne glasses, hmm? I thought I put them away.”

Veryl stepped to the cupboard and pulled out a pair of coupes, which she set on the counter. “You ain’t finished until they-all finished, Miss Lulu. You remember that.”

Over the last of her words, Thorpe ducked through the doorway into the kitchen. “Remember what, Miss Veryl?” he said cheerfully. “To make her husband breakfast every morning? Oh, champagne. I knew I married the right sort of woman. I hope you’re going to stay and toast us, eh, Veryl? Failing that, you might offer Lulu your condolences.”

“Now, stop,” she said, as he kissed her cheek. “You gwine down the beach, you two. Never mind Veryl.”

“I’ll give you a lift home, shall I?”

“No, sir. Bus be rolling by any second. You take good care of my Miss Lulu, now, or you be hearing from the end of my good broom.”

When she left, the bungalow turned quiet. The champagne dripped on the counter with the glasses, which Veryl had smuggled in—along with most of the glassware, chinaware, and cutlery, not to mention the towels—piece by piece from the Prince George. The ceiling fan swirled about a centimeter from the top of Thorpe’s head, and as I stared at the blur of blades, I felt a premonition come over me. Thorpe stepped closer and kissed my lips. “Everything all right?”

“Everything’s just fine,” I told him.

Thorpe chipped some ice from the block in the icebox and filled the champagne bucket, which also bore the Prince George crest. I wandered to the patio and stood there in my yellow silk dress, gazing down the beach to the mounting surf. The sea grape trees bent in the wind. I kicked off my shoes and stepped on the sand, outside the shelter of the patio. Behind me came the sound of Thorpe, setting the bucket and the glasses on the table. I thought we were the only two people alive under this sinking sun, this restless sky. The only two people alive in the world.

“Good evening, Mrs. Thorpe,” he said. “It’s a fine day to be married, isn’t it?”