“I’ll give them to Nina.”

“Nina?” Harper felt immediately defensive. “She doesn’t do editorial.”

“She’s ready for a promotion and I think she’ll do well. I’ve had my eye on her for a while now. This would be a good opportunity for her.”

Nina was a bright and attractive woman about the same age as Harper. She made no secret of the fact that she was hungry to be an editor and took any morsel tossed her way. Harper was already envious of the number of editing jobs Georgiana had given to Nina lately, despite Harper’s begging for more. Harper was tired of being relegated to duties more fitting for her mother’s personal assistant—doing errands, making appointments, drafting letters.

“Why don’t you send Nina to be Grandmother’s nurse?”

“Don’t be smart,” her mother scolded. “I can see that even a few days in that company has made you snippy. I hate the effect they have on you down there. You always used to come home from Sullivan’s Island all full of yourself and silly. It would take me weeks to get you back to normal again.”

“That’s not true,” Harper protested, but in her heart, she did remember feeling bold after her stays with Mamaw. Her heart was full of running wild across the island playing pirate, making up stories, seeking out wildlife and, of course, the sea. Summers where skinned knees went unnoticed, schedules were abandoned, and they could talk at night till they fell asleep.

“I think a good stay in England with your grandmother James will do you a world of good,” Georgiana added.

“I’m not a child, Mother,” Harper said testily. “I don’t need to be taught my manners.”

“That’s debatable,” Georgiana replied. “But I don’t have the time for that now. I want you to book your flight direct from Charleston. Use my travel agent. Don’t worry about clothes. You can pick up what you need in London. Mummy is due home day after tomorrow.”

Harper swallowed again, then said, “No.”

There was a pause. “I beg your pardon?”

Harper felt her body go cold. She took a breath, then repeated, “No. I’m not going to England. I think you should go. She’s your mother.”

There was another, longer pause. “Harper, I want you on a plane for London tomorrow, is that clear?”

“No.” She felt like the mutinous child again, crossing her arms and pouting. Only she wasn’t a child and the stakes were so much higher.

“You’re being ridiculous. I won’t stand for it. I’m your boss and I’m giving you an order.”

The words floated in space between them, igniting unanswered questions. Harper took a moment to swallow them, digest them, and let them settle. She reached out to lower the computer screen. When she spoke, her voice was surprisingly calm.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be my boss. Maybe you should just be my mother.”

There was another long silence.

“You can give my job to Nina,” Harper said. “She’ll be good at it.”

“You’re resigning?”

“As your assistant, yes.” Harper laughed lightly. “Not as your daughter.”

“I don’t find that the least amusing.”

Harper would’ve been more surprised if her mother had seen the sad humor in this situation.

“Don’t think you can come back to my apartment and lollygag,” Georgiana said in a flare of temper.

“Well, then I can just stay in the Hamptons.”

“No, you can’t. It’s booked for most of the summer.”

“I see,” Harper replied.

And she did. Clearly. At long last.

Carson had no idea what time it was. It was late, that was all she knew. She could tell by the high position of the crescent moon in the sky. She was sitting at the edge of the dock with her legs dangling in the water.

“Well played, Mamaw,” she muttered. Inside the house Harper was cussing like a sailor, throwing her clothing in her fancy suitcase, declaring she was never stepping foot back into this Faulkner novel. She didn’t know where Dora had gone, and Mamaw was hiding out in her room. She raised the bottle of vodka she’d swiped from Mamaw’s bar up toward the moon. “Death to . . . No.” She shook her head, thinking again. “To hell with the ladies!” She weaved, almost tipping over into the water.

From somewhere in the dark water she heard the loud, percussive exhale of a dolphin. The sound was close. She instantly smiled and lifted her head from her arms to gaze out into the water. Delphine’s large head came up out of the water, silvery in the moonlight.

Carson slowly reached out to let her hand lie palm up in supplication mere inches in front of Delphine. Delphine gracefully nudged Carson’s palm as she swam past. One small touch, but it was a profound moment of connection and Carson knew they both felt it.

From behind her, Carson heard footfalls coming up the dock. Delphine disappeared under the water, leaving only a rippled pattern on the surface.

“Talking to your dolphin again?” Harper called from the upper dock. She stepped down to the floating dock and stood beside Carson. Then, bending down to peer into her sister’s face, she asked more tenderly, “Are you crying?”

“No,” Carson blurted. She wished Harper would just go away and leave her to her misery.

Harper moved to sit beside Carson on the dock, slipping her legs into the water. She kicked them lazily for a while. “And you’re drinking,” she observed gently, sensing Carson’s distress.

“What if I am?”

“Nothing. I’m just thinking we all said some pretty emotional things tonight, and I find you out here on your lonesome with a bottle of vodka, and I’m wondering what demon you’re wrestling.”

“What do you care? You’re leaving.” Carson lifted the bottle and tipped the fluid down her throat in an in your face gesture. “Everyone leaves.”

Harper didn’t respond. She reached out to let her fingers splash the water. The floating dock creaked as wood hit wood and seawater splashed up alongside the pier.

“Do you have the family illness?” Harper asked.

Carson felt her body tense. “Illness? What illness are you talking about?”

Harper smiled ruefully. “The miracle of genetics. We all carry the gene for alcoholism. It’s a loaded gun in Russian roulette. One gets it and another doesn’t. Do you have it?”