“Thank you for not being angry,” Ayers says.

“It’s no wonder you look so worn down,” Huck says. “You have your crazy ex over at Cruz Bay Landing making a public spectacle of himself and you’ve been carrying the burden of these journals. Plus you miss Rosie. We all miss Rosie.”

Plus I’m pregnant, she thinks.

“Have you seen Baker yet?” Huck asks. “Apparently, he has a good lead on a rental.”

“So he’s definitely staying, then?”

“They’re all staying,” Huck says. “Is that crazy or what?” Huck stretches out his arms in a gesture that takes in the hibiscus bushes lining the sidewalk, the sound of steel drums wafting over from Tamarind Court, the velvet sky filled with stars above them. “Then again, who ever wants to leave paradise?”

Cash

He and Tilda are eight minutes late to meet Granger and Lauren at Extra Virgin Bistro for dinner, which makes Cash crazy. Tilda has changed her top three times and spent half an hour putting on makeup, including some kind of sparkly silver stardust around her eyes. Cash can’t fully appreciate the effect of the makeup because Tilda is beautiful even without makeup and because he hates being late for anything but especially for a work meeting, which this dinner technically is. Tonight, Granger and Lauren want to discuss the “exciting business opportunity” with Tilda and Cash.

Extra Virgin is a sexy restaurant. Outside, there’s a spacious deck surrounded by tropical vegetation; in the dining room, there’s a horseshoe-shaped bar backed by a glowing wall of bottles. There are leather banquettes, huge open windows, and low lighting. The buzz is high; stepping inside feels like arriving somewhere important. Cash has eaten in plenty of fine establishments in his life, though he consciously avoids any restaurant that can be called “a scene”—he prefers a taco and a beer, to be honest. Also, he doesn’t like to eat in places he can’t afford.

Granger and Lauren are already sitting, and a bottle of red has been decanted. (This is a phenomenon Cash has learned about in detail in the past week, how certain fine vintages of cabernet and Syrah and pinot noir need to be “aired out”—poured from the bottle into a glass carafe—so that the wine can breathe and become even more complex and sublime than it was when it was just wine in the bottle.) Granger is wearing one of his limited-edition Robert Graham shirts, another fancy thing Cash has recently been schooled on. Robert Graham designs, among other things, colorful, whimsically patterned sport shirts with dazzling contrasting cuffs. Granger collects Robert Graham shirts, registering each one like it’s a Thoroughbred horse. After he bought his one hundredth shirt, the creative geniuses at Robert Graham designed a shirt specifically for Granger, called—unsurprisingly—“the Granger.” Granger showed it to Cash the other evening at the house. It’s vivid green and embroidered on the back with a psychedelic palm tree, only instead of a cluster of coconuts at the top, there are skulls, skulls being a popular Robert Graham motif.

The thing Cash likes about the Robert Graham shirts is that you can look dressed up without wearing a coat or tie. Cash could probably use one in his wardrobe, but again, he can’t afford it; he can’t even afford a knockoff of one. To this dinner, Cash is wearing a red polo shirt, a pair of Dockers, and flip-flops because his only other shoe options are sneakers and hiking boots. He’s worried he’s underdressed; he looks like he’s been hired to park cars.

Oh, well—it’s the Virgin Islands.

Granger and Lauren stand up; they’re all smiles as they greet Cash and Tilda, though Lauren says, “We were wondering what became of you two!” The elder Paynes run a tight ship; one needs to watch them for only five minutes to see why they’re successful. They do things impeccably—they get the best table at the most sought-after restaurant and then they welcome you into the place like it’s their home. Cash’s parents had money for years, but they never quite acquired the easy confidence that the Paynes exude.

Tilda instructs Cash to scoot over so he’s across from Lauren. Maybe Tilda is trying to save Cash from an evening of tough face-to-face interaction with Granger, or maybe she would like to be her father’s focus in this discussion. Granger pours them each a glass of wine. It’s the Archery Summit pinot noir, “just to get everyone started.” Cash sees from a quick check of the menu that the Archery Summit costs a hundred and twenty-five dollars a bottle, or roughly twenty-five bucks a glass. He tries to sit up straighter.

Granger says, “We’ll wait until Duncan arrives to order.”

Duncan? Cash thinks. Who’s Duncan? Then he notices a fifth seat at the end of the table, between Granger and Tilda. He feels better about being eight minutes late because this Duncan is even later.

In a moment, Granger and Lauren are back up on their feet again, beaming, and Tilda stands, and Cash, a beat later than he probably should have, also stands to shake hands with a guy—maybe Cash’s age, maybe younger—who’s wearing jeans, a Gucci belt, a Revivalists T-shirt, and a forty-thousand-dollar watch.

“Hey, I’m Cash,” he says.

“Hey, how you doin’, mate, I’m Duncan Huntley, call me Dunk, nice to meet you.” Dunk has an Australian accent, which puts Cash at ease a bit. Cash has never met an Aussie he didn’t like. It seems to be a country filled with friendly, outgoing, well-adjusted people.

They all sit and pick up their menus. Granger says, “We ordered a bottle of the Archery Summit to start.” He checks the bottle; there’s less than a full glass left. “But we are definitely ready to move on.”

“Let’s go with a couple bottles of the Penfolds Shiraz,” Dunk says. “I love a good Shiraz and Penfolds is the best in the Barossa—the best in the world, if you ask me.”

“The Lewis reserve cab is pretty good too,” Granger says. “Lauren and I visited the estate in Napa in January.”

“Don’t brag,” Tilda says.

“You were invited,” Granger says.

“I have a job,” she says.

“You can’t compare the two—sorry, mate,” Dunk says. “Penfolds is head and shoulders above.” He waves over their server, a pretty young woman with long dark hair. “Jena, would you please bring us a couple bottles of the Penfolds Shiraz? We’ll need to decant it.”

“The Lewis will be drinkable right out of the bottle,” Granger says. He turns to Jena. “One bottle of the Lewis reserve as well, please.” He looks across the table. “What about you, Cash? Are you more a cabernet guy or a Shiraz guy?”

Cash would very much like to admit that he’s an Island Hoppin’ IPA guy. He has the wine list open in front of him. The Lewis cab is $240 a bottle, and the Penfolds Grange Shiraz is…Cash blinks. Is he seeing things? No; it’s $700 a bottle. Which is, what, $140 a glass? Cash has a list of things as long as his arm that he would do with $140 before he blew it all on one glass of wine.

Dunk draws a circle with his finger. “So, Cash, how do you fit in with these bludgers?”

Cash would like to ask Duncan Huntley the same thing. “I’m a friend of Tilda’s,” he says. He doesn’t use the word boyfriend because he is already having some manhood issues.