Speaking of girls, the one beside him was dressed in less old-fashioned clothes—cocktail dress the same shade of pink as bubblegum, matching heels—but was good-looking in the same kind of old-fashioned way: high, smooth forehead, mouth that was full yet small, skin so clear and poreless it was like porcelain. The only difference between them was hair color, his dark, hers light. All that tousled blond gorgeousness should have given the girl a generous outlook on the world. Should have, but didn’t. When she and Alice touched eyes, she smirked nastily and nudged the guy, pointing to Alice with her chin. For a moment, something like shock froze his features, making his arrogant, cynical face look young and almost innocent. Then the moment passed, so fast Alice wondered if she’d imagined it—did the sun just get in his eyes?—and he pulled the flask out of his pocket, raised it to her in a mock toast.

Humiliated, Alice turned her face away. She wished she’d taken up her mom on that offer to go shopping this afternoon. The fifties-style white organdy dress with the flouncy skirt that she’d bought at her favorite vintage shop in Davis Square had seemed okay back home, cool even, but here it seemed so shabby and street-urchin-y—vintage, she thought to herself, a fancy word for used—she could scarcely bear to have it touch her skin. Like she was literally wearing rags. To keep the vomit from surging up her throat, she decided to speak. Seizing on the first topic that came to mind, she said, “So, Richard, I know this is a country club, not a yacht club, but do you keep your boats here?”

He didn’t say anything. Did he not hear her? she wondered. But how was that possible? His ear was less than two feet away from her mouth.

When it was clear he wasn’t going to respond, her mom stepped in, tried to make a save. “Neither of my girls has spent much time on boats. But Charlie loves the water. Just loves it. In fact, I think she might be part fish. She could swim before she could walk. We used to go to Singing Beach in Manchester when the girls were . . .”