“And he threatened to call your daddy and tell on us, but instead he made us sweep out the snack bar for a whole week,” Parrish said.
Ed looked from his wife to Parrish. “You were stowaways?”
“We were small for our age,” Riley explained. She examined the plate of appetizers Ed was balancing on top of his plastic wineglass. “That looks amazing. I think I’ll go get something to eat. Anybody want anything?”
Billy jiggled the ice cubes in his now-empty cup at his sister.
“Don’t make me call Scott and rat you out,” Riley said. “Go get some food and try to sober up, okay?”
* * *
She was walking toward the buffet table when one of the musicians stepped a little ways apart from the rest of the band. He raised a trumpet to his lips and played a slow rendition of “Taps.” Riley turned and walked, as though in a trance, toward the ocean. The sky was an ombre patchwork ranging from palest purple to deep, midnight blue, and hanging low on the horizon was a staggeringly beautiful silvery moon.
Applause rippled through the crowd. She stood very still, gazing up at it. The day’s worries and troubles slowly receded, and she was only aware of the sound of her own breathing and the sensation of waves lapping at her ankles and that luminescent moon, spilling liquid beauty.
* * *
The line for food had temporarily slowed. At the sound of the trumpet solo, Nate turned away from the grill for what seemed like the first time that night. He automatically scanned the crowd, wondering if she’d already left. And then he spotted her. She was silhouetted in the moonlight, standing in ankle-deep water, her face tilted up to the sky. He must have been staring at her for a good five minutes until a voice broke in and brought him back to reality.
“Hey, man, are there any of those shrimp-skewer things left?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. He reached for his tongs and placed two kabobs on an outstretched plate.
“And could I get some of that grilled pineapple salsa on the side?”
Nate scooped a spoonful from the cast-iron skillet he’d shoved to the side of the massive grill and dumped it on the customer’s plate. He heard coins clinking in the tip jar one of the college girls had placed prominently on the buffet table to his right, but still he watched Riley Nolan until she reluctantly turned her back on the moon and started to walk toward the food tent.
* * *
She was starving. The line at the buffet table had dwindled to less than a dozen people. Riley took a plastic plate and helped herself from trays of appetizers lined up on the long table: cheese and crackers, crab dip, bacon-wrapped blue cheese–stuffed dates, and fruit skewers. But it was the pork-scented aroma emanating from the grill that drew her like a magnet.
Finally she reached the front of the line. The server had his back to her, slicing a charred slab of pork tenderloin. His head and torso were wreathed in smoke that poured from the grill.
“Medium or well-done?” His tongs were poised over the sliced meat.
“Medium, please,” Riley said, extending her plate toward him. Her eyes stung from the peppery smoke. She coughed and blinked and realized too late that the server was Nate Milas.
He was wearing a flowery Hawaiian-print shirt, jeans, and latex disposable gloves, and he needed a shave.
“Want a shrimp kabob?” he asked gruffly.
“Oh, uh, sure,” she said.
“Pineapple salsa?”
“That sounds good,” Riley said. She extended her plate again, and he heaped it with shrimp and grilled fruit.
“Nate Milas!”
Andrea Payne bore down on them like a guided missile. Riley started to escape, but it was too late.
“Is it true then?” Andrea demanded, addressing the server. “About the new marine research facility you’re going to build?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Andrea,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“Oh, come on now. A little birdie told me you’re donating the Holtzclaw property to UNC!” Andrea exclaimed. She turned to Riley. “That was one of the pieces of land Wendell bought, just before he was killed, wasn’t it? Isn’t it nice that something so wonderful could come out of your personal tragedy?”
Riley felt her face flush deep red.
“Where did you hear that?” Nate asked.
“I have my sources,” Andrea said. “Come on now, don’t be so mysterious.”
“I can’t talk about it,” Nate said flatly. “And I really wish you wouldn’t either.”
“You’re just being modest,” Andrea said. “I heard your mother telling Parrish Godchaux all about it at the Mercantile this morning.”
Nate’s expression remained deadpan. “Can I get you a shrimp or something, Andrea?”
“No, thanks, I never eat food from a grill. So unsanitary.” She looked from Nate to Riley. “Toodles, you two.”
Nate shook his head. “I don’t know who I’m going to kill first, my mother or Andrea Payne.”
“I vote for Barbie,” Riley said.
“Who?”
“That’s what we call her. Belle Isle Barbie,” she confessed.
“Why’s that?”
“Because she’s skinny and has plastic boobs. Don’t be mad at your mom,” Riley said hastily. “Parrish told me about the conversation she had with Annie this morning at the café. Your mom was just sticking up for you.”
“How did the topic even come up?”
Riley stared down at her plate of food as she felt her cheeks burn. She forced herself to meet his eyes. “I might have told Parrish how angry I was that you were going to tear down the wildlife sanctuary and pave the island. And then, this morning, I guess Andrea was eavesdropping when Annie told Parrish the truth, that you were donating it to UNC.”
“Nothing’s finalized yet,” Nate said. “The university trustees have to vote on it, and it’ll have to go before the county commission for approval.”
“I think I owe you an apology,” Riley said. She hesitated. “Can I buy you a drink? When you’re done here?”
“I’m done right now,” Nate said. There was nobody left in the food line. The platters of food had been emptied of everything but the lettuce leaf garnishes and the occasional lonely orange slice. He set the tongs on the table and stripped off his apron and latex gloves. “Your place or mine?”
49
“You seem to forget I don’t have a place of my own,” Riley said.
“I don’t really feel like hanging around here much longer,” Nate said. “What would you think about going to the Duck Inn?”
“Is that a new bar on the island?”
“It’s my cabin. We could go there, unless you think it’s too, uh, private.”
“That sounds fine,” Riley said. “Let me just tell Parrish I’m leaving. I need to make sure she gives Billy a ride home. He shouldn’t be driving tonight.”
“In the meantime, I’ll let Annie know I’m clocking out. Meet you back here in five minutes?”
“Sure thing. Can you do me one favor?” Riley asked, handing him her plate. “Save this for me. I didn’t have dinner tonight, and I’m starving.”