Chapter Three - "Our People"

Porter couldn’t shake the vaguely ashamed feeling he’d had since he left the library. As he clattered into the kitchen with his pile of books, his cousin Skylar burst out laughing and broke him out of his ruminations about that strange girl, Everly.
 

“Port...it’s the second day since graduation. Day two. What are you doing with a dusty pile of books?”
 

Porter grinned, the strange girl nearly forgotten. Witty and vivacious, Skylar had been adopted on a whim by Aunt Jana when she was two. Jana thought, somehow, that she was rescuing a child from poverty in Africa. Never mind that Skylar had been born in the Bronx. Her adoptive family's money and status alike sat lightly on Skylar and she mocked them often. As a gorgeous (and bossy!) 16 year old, she always had a crowd of friends at school. But somehow she and Porter had always stayed close. Particularly in the ten years since his mother died, Skylar had grown to understand his moods and thoughts better than he sometimes did.

“As Loretta no doubt told you already,” rolling his eyes at Loretta’s back as she poured out pancake batter, listening intently, “good old JBB seems unshakeable on the Stanford issue. He had a massive tantrum this morning, nearly killed me in my bed when he found out that I never applied.” (Julian’s middle name, hilariously, was Bellmore after an illustrious great-uncle. Julian Bellmore Biltmore.)

Skylar nodded. “Uncle Ju is always so zen-like. So...what’s the plan? Murder him with heavy books? All at once or one at a time?”

Porter, seeing Loretta grimace, quickly rushed forward with the explanation. “I’m coming up with a plan. I’m spending the next few weeks figuring out exactly what I’m going to do, and I’ll notify one of the colleges based on that. They’re all waiting on my decision, thanks to the Biltmore donations. I’ll figure it out, plan my curriculum, internships, professors, everything. I’ll get the university to write letters of support - to my dad - if I have to. Then I’ll ambush him with the decision. Maybe in public at one of the big events this summer; he and Alex have volunteered me to co-host or MC a bunch of them anyway.”

“Ah, Alex - I was wondering when you were going to mention her.” Skylar made fun of one of Alex’s couture ball dresses during a gala the previous spring, and Alex had never forgiven her. To be fair, the dress looked like it had heads of broccoli sewn on it, and Skylar had sung the old vegetable song from Sesame Street in front of a crowd of people who all cried laughing. Alex just cried. Custom De Rochets were to be fawned over! “How is darling Alex?”
 

Porter shrugged. “Off in Paris. She’s emailed a few times but I haven’t gotten back to her yet. Obviously she’ll miss the clambake tonight, but I’m sure she’ll be back in time for your mom’s white party next weekend.”

Skylar twirled a fork through her fruit salad. “Ok...but what are you telling Ju-Ju in the meantime? Or does he think you’re just going to Stanford without any more fight? Keep in mind, Hunter would kill for that spot at Stanford, if you don’t want it.”

“What would I kill for, sis?” Even at 18, Hunter Chadbourne was an imposing presence. Shorter than Porter but stocky with dark eyebrows and broad shoulders, Hunter had strong opinions on everything, and had decided at age 13 that he wanted to make more money than anyone in the city. His grades never quite matched his ambition, and Porter remembered the flicker of jealousy that had crossed Hunter’s face when Julian had drunkenly announced at a family dinner that Porter was graduating at the top of his class and taking over the Biltmore Fund. Hunter simply didn’t understand how someone as indecisive as Porter could accomplish anything. Soft since his mother died, that’s when Porter had gone off, thought Hunter darkly. He’d always been a mama’s boy.

Skylar smiled sweetly at Hunter. “You’re late. Loretta will probably still make you pancakes but you don’t get a rewind of the conversation as well.”

Hunter scowled and Loretta interrupted before a squabble began. “It’s already been a...loud...morning in this house. Let’s all finish the stack, shall we? And Porter, dear, do you know how many people you’re expecting tonight?”

Hunter interjected smoothly before Porter could finish his mouthful. “Thanks, Loretta. Actually, I’m hosting tonight since Porter’s been too busy being a nerd to send out invitations. Just our people - the Lattimore girls, Erin Brinkley, Tom and Ace Herdalston, and a few others from school. And Loretta,” his tone sweetened, “I hope you don’t mind if we add some variety to the drink options?”

Loretta sighed. “As it so happens, it’s my night off, so I can’t monitor all of you. Porter, whether you host or not, I hope you remember that you are responsible for what happens in this house while your father is away.”

Porter nodded wearily. The damn party, he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with his own preening social set. “What did you mean, ‘our people’?” he directed at Hunter. “There are new families in the Hamptons this summer; shouldn’t we invite everyone to see if any of them are interesting?”

Hunter snorted. “Please. We don’t know anything about them, where they went to school, what they do. Half of their families are in oil or drugs or any number of those shady foreign businesses. Better to keep our circle closed.”
 

Skylar laughed. “Hunter, the only friends you have are people who want to be friends with me or Porter. No one can stand you and your constant pompous questions about how low their golfing scores are or how their stocks are doing. And I have half a mind to throw flyers out in the street to get anyone new to come.
 

Porter cleared his throat casually. “Actually, I did invite a girl I met at the library just now. But I don’t know if she’ll come; she seemed kind of standoffish.
 

Ignoring her brother’s derisive laugh, Skylar clapped her hands. “Well done! You finally found someone who looks down on us. I want to meet this girl!”

Having vanquished an overly large forkful of pancakes, Hunter shook his head. “I cannot believe you would invite some random girl. And what the hell were you doing at the library?” He poked at Porter’s stack of books, now leaning menacingly towards the pitcher of juice.
 

Porter was instantly guarded. If anyone would rat him out to Julian, it was Hunter. Skylar shot him a look, then cut in. “Learn to read before you make fun of people going to the library, Hunter. You’re such a neanderthal sometimes. Anyways,” she said, sliding off her stool, “I might just head over there myself. Now that the Nicholas Sparks books are probably gone, I’m in no danger of being accosted by excessive sap.”
 

Porter smiled at her gratefully. “I’m heading up to send some emails. I’ll come help set up later on.” He gathered up his books and headed quickly out of the kitchen, leaving Loretta to soothe Hunter with more syrup.
 

A couple of hours later, Porter was positive that finance was the last thing on earth he wanted to do. Rubbing his eyes, he shut the last of the books he’s brought back - truth was, he was a pretty fast reader himself. At least, when pulling one over his father depended on it. He sighed. Tomorrow, he’d have to go back to the library and tackle another subject. And he’d have to deal with that weird girl again...unless she came by tonight. But that didn’t seem very likely, based on the impression he’d made. He made a mental note to be nicer next time  - long enough to pry more information out of her.
 

Jumping to his feet, Porter meandered to the kitchen and pulled together the packages of potatoes, carrots, corn on the cob, and sausage for the clambake. He dumped them all in the golf cart sitting on the kitchen deck for precisely this purpose, then headed back into the kitchen. It was half a mile between the house and the fire pit. People joked about the “flag staff” properties at the Hamptons; the Biltmore compound had three separate flag staffs. Next, Porter pulled out the six-packs of soda and cartons of juice-mixers, he figured, for Hunter’s formidable collection of vodka and rum. Finally, he pulled out the prize at the back of the fridge - Loretta’s seven-layer chocolate cake, which she always made whenever the children (as she thought of them) had guests. She’d never forgotten.
 

How could that girl call him rude, anyway? She was the one who refused to answer questions, who’d been abrupt with Porter before he’d even opened his mouth. And what was it about her that her iciness towards him just made him more interested? He’d have to be more insistent tomorrow. That is, if he hadn’t imagined her to begin with.
 

Skylar bounced in. “Need a hand? I picked up some chips and dip at Avanti as well.” She helped Porter pile up the rest of the items on the golf cart, then sat next to him as he drove it down towards Biltmore Beach. “Chip?” She offered him an open bag, which she’d already half-demolished. He grabbed a handful, throwing several into his mouth as he steered with one hand.
 

“I saw that girl at the library, by the way,” Skylar tossed out casually, and watched in amusement as Porter struggled to keep the cart steady as he choked on a chip and sputtered. “So you are interested! You and Hunter have one thing in common; you’re both the worst at hiding feelings. Wow, Alex is not going to like this....”
 

“Sky! Please,” coughed Porter. “I ran into her, she seemed nice but super weird, and I invited her to the party. That’s it. I was just curious about where she was from.”
 

“That’s the thing,” Skylar continued. “I didn’t talk to her; she was shelving books. But she looks exotic, maybe from the Middle East, and I’m positive I haven’t heard of any new foreign families in Southampton this summer. Maybe she’s living somewhere else on Long Island?”
 

“No, she said she was in the Hamptons, but that’s about all she said. Anyways, she definitely didn’t like me, and I doubt we’ll see much of her this summer anyway. Can we please change the subject now? I expect you to focus your attention on my predicament all summer.”
 

Skylar laughed. “Fine. But if I find out more, I’ll let you know...”
 

They pulled up by the fire pit, where Hunter had already gathered the stones and seaweed, and was coaxing the first smoke from the wood in the pit. As they unloaded the food, Porter’s thoughts wandered. So Everly hadn’t been a figment of his imagination after all - Skylar was much less prone to flights of fancy (as his mother had called them) than he was. Everly and her long hair and her old-fashioned gold chain...
 

“Biltmore! Hope you’re as good a cook as you are a soccer player; we’re starving!” Lauren and Lindsay Lattimore were sashaying down the beach towards them, long dresses artfully gathered up and strappy sandals in hand. One of them - he couldn’t remember which one - already had a modeling contract, so wouldn’t make much of a dent in the clambake. They hadn’t forgotten their enormous Gucci-imprinted handbags. What did girls do with those bags, anyway, especially at parties? Unless they were bringing the lobsters - but no, Hunter had already prepped those on the rocks by the pit.
 

Hunter wiped the frown off his face with effort. “Actually, ladies, I’m doing the cooking this evening. My cousin couldn’t tell you the difference between a lobster and a water bug.” Porter laughed it off, but the girls shuddered. Hunter Chadbourne could be so off-putting sometimes. Sensing that he was already losing his audience, Hunter offered them drinks, which the girls gladly accepted. As the others arrived and the conversation circled from trust funds to fashion shows to fall gala planning and back to trust funds, Porter found himself getting more and more impatient. Each time his mood plummeted further, he matched it with a drink of similar strength.
 

Finally, as the sun was setting over the beach and the last of the shells had been cracked by the fire, Porter couldn’t stand it any longer. He abruptly extricated himself from a ridiculous discussion about ‘77 French merlots, and jamming his hands into his pockets, stalked angrily down the beach. What did his father know, anyway? What gave Julian Biltmore the right to run everyone’s life? How could his mother have lived with Julian so for many years, smiled at his terrible jokes and gracefully hosted his tasteless business events? Come to think of it, Porter couldn’t remember a single occasion on which Marina had been affectionate towards Julian. Respectful, certainly, even warm on the few times when Julian had come home to spend time with Marina and Porter. But love? If it had been there, Porter didn’t recognize it.
 

Porter stopped suddenly at the water’s edge. There was still plenty of light, the dark sky dappled with streaks of orange, red, and pink. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to step into the water. Porter was a strong swimmer and had always loved the water, but since the accident, he’d never set foot in the Southampton sea again. He imagined his mother’s blood in it, even after all these years, and the murky depths glistened as if to hint that they still had her captive there.
 

Biting his lip hard, Porter turned away from the water - and saw a slender figure further down the beach, walking slowly into the water. Someone from the party? But no, no one had overtaken him and the light from the fire was distant. As he moved closer and squinted into the darkening shadows, something glinted around the figure’s neck. “Everly?” he said, and then repeated it loudly. “Everly? Everly!” The figure stopped suddenly, then moved quickly into the water until it was nothing but a ripple on the surface, as Porter came racing up. “Everly!” he yelled, peering into the water but unable to plunge himself into it. And yet, surely she couldn’t have swum away that fast? Surely she would have had to come up for air nearby? Porter craned his neck desperately, but the waves were low and rhythmic – there was just a hint of a ripple, miles out from shore. “What the...” He turned and saw Skylar standing a few yards behind him, looking shaken. “I came to find you, thought you might be upset...” she trailed off. “And I think I saw her too.”

                        *                      *                      *                      *                      *
 

Everly cursed as she shot away from the Southampton shore with Merupu. That boy had mentioned the Biltmore Beach - how could she have failed to check where it was? It was just the beginning. She would have to be much more careful.