Chapter 9: The Backyard

The next hour moved in pieces. Ryan kept a beer in my hand and steered me from group to group. Most of the people were from work or connected to work. A couple of the senior directors sat under a big umbrella with their wives, already deep in a conversation that looked half business and half vacation planning. Ryan introduced me, made the usual jokes about the new guy from Iowa, and moved on before the small talk could die. Everyone smiled. Everyone said some version of “welcome” and “you’ll love it here.” I believed about half of them.

I kept checking on Sarah. The first few times she was still near the bar with Roxie, nodding at something one of the other women said. Then Roxie walked her over to the lounge chairs. Sarah sat on the end of one, cover-up still on, drink in her hand. Within ten minutes the cover-up was folded beside her. The modest two-piece looked almost conservative next to what some of the other women were wearing—thongs, string bottoms, tops that functioned more as suggestions than coverage—but she wore it, and she laughed. Actual laughter, the kind that reached her eyes. Roxie sat close beside her on the same lounge, one hand resting on Sarah’s knee or forearm the way she had rested it on mine at the restaurant. Sarah didn’t pull away.