“That’s a lovely way to put it,” Mallory murmured.
“Besides,” Alyssa added, putting her wine cup between her knees, and tying her hair into a messy bun. “While Maggie goes through IVF, it’s good for her to put all her emotions somewhere. She dotes on Lucy more than most mothers with their babies. She texted me earlier to say she ‘accidentally’ spent another two-hundred and fifty dollars at the kids’ clothing store in Greenwich Village.”
Mallory’s cheek twitched. An image of her own bank account flashed before her eyes: no more than a couple thousand dollars, all saved since her mother had given her the job at the Lodge. Pathetic. She knew that Maggie and Alyssa came from “real” money and that their father had died tragically the previous autumn, leaving them buckets of cash. It didn’t make Mallory feel any better. Her own father had died, leaving money to her mother— money that Mallory had access to, of course. But she wanted to build something on her own. Something that allowed a frivolous two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar purchase at a Greenwich Village store for kids’ clothing.
“What’s up?” Cole asked above her, yanking the ropes to broaden the sails with the change of the wind.
“Oh, gosh.” Mallory strung her fingers across her cheek. “I feel stupid even saying it out loud.”
“If you can’t talk to us, who can you talk to?” Alyssa demanded.
“This morning, my mom gifted me something for my desk,” Mallory said, not fully understanding why her eyes filled with tears. “This fancy chair for behind the desk, so that my posture doesn’t get messed up. I don’t know why, but it made me so angry! Not at my mother, but at myself.”
Alyssa nodded, her eyes widening.But how could Alyssa possibly understand? She’d graduated from Yale, for goodness sake.
“I’m just so bored,” Mallory breathed. “Bored of secretary work. Bored of the mundanity of the life I’ve built.”
“It’s probably just existential dread after your breakup,” Alyssa cited. “It happens to me every time I end something. I’m like, ‘What the hell is next!’”
“That’s partially it, I’m sure. I sit at the front desk of the Lodge and take notes, answer phone calls, and wonder why anyone in their right mind would ever want to take me on a date again. I graduated from high school, floundered around at different jobs on the island, got pregnant with my high school boyfriend, and never bothered to go to college. I wouldn’t want to date me, either. I seem pretty pathetic, if I’m being honest. No adventure whatsoever.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Cole offered. “You have so much to give and still so much to do.”
“I don’t feel like I do,” Mallory muttered, her eyes on the water.
“I know it may be difficult to hear from me about this,” Alyssa breathed. “I know that I went to Yale and blah blah blah. But since I graduated, I’ve had absolutely no idea what to do next. I’ve felt like I’m floundering, as well. Lucy has given me a purpose, at least. But what happens next? I just take care of my ex-boyfriend’s kid until I’m, what, twenty-five? Thirty? I’m jealous of Maggie, who loves the art world so much and has started to buy and sell for galleries. She always had a passion. What’s mine?”
“What’s our passion!” Mallory cried, lifting her face toward the sky and howling. “What is it?”
Alyssa laughed and matched her, screaming at the clouds above. “Someone, give us a sign!”
“I’ll give you both a sign,” Cole began. “You’re both crazy for wanting anything more than this.” He stretched a handout, gesturing toward the water between their arching boat and the island.
Mallory sipped her wine, coating her tongue with the tang of the liquid.
“He’s right,” Alyssa said with a shrug. “Cole, why are you always right?”
“I ask myself that question all the time,” Cole replied dreamily. “The only answer I have is that I must just be cleverer than most people.”
“That must be difficult,” Alyssa teased back.
Mallory’s laughter escaped her as she reached for the bottle of wine, ready for a refill. For the first time in what felt like ages, she didn’t have to worry about diaper changes or Zach’s dinner plans. She could revel in the beauty of a summer’s day.
In time, their conversation drifted toward the biggest topic of the summer: the robbery.
“I can’t believe the cops have no idea who did this,” Alyssa said, chewing dangerously on a hangnail. “Not a single fingerprint. Not a single inkling.”
“It couldn’t have been an islander,” Cole returned.
“Why not?” Mallory demanded. “Just because people put on this happy and friendly facade doesn’t mean they’re actually like that.”
“The insurance is still calculating the amount we lost,” Alyssa continued. “Grandma alternates between saying, ‘Things mean nothing!’ and then freaking out again.”
“It’s alienating,” Mallory shot. “Someone breaking in like that.”
“It gives me the creeps,” Alyssa said. “Especially because I was asleep during the robbery. I don’t know if I’ll ever shake that feeling that these evil people snuck in and took things right out from under me while I was unconscious.”
The three of them held the silence for a long moment, worry permeating the air. They would find a way to rebound, both in this conversation and in the summer at large. Mallory had to believe so, anyway.