called out, reminding Sabrina a little of Robin Williams’s titular greeting in Good Morning, Vietnam .
David swung his feet quickly off the chaise and stood up, dropping The Goldfinch onto the sand. Sabrina bent over to pick it up, grateful for a few seconds of relief when her eyes did not have to bear witness to this awkward moment.
“Henry, and this must be—”
“Sabrina Salter, David. So nice to finally meet you.” Sabrina used her best manners, the ones Henry exemplified, as she handed David the book and then her hand, which David shook. She was surprised to see that Davidwas completely bald, which made his deep-green eyes pop. He was taller than she was, making him much taller than Henry, whom she towered over.
“Please, come up on the porch. Can I get you coffee, maybe a beer, or is it too early?” David asked, clearly rattled by their surprise appearance. Sabrina felt a little sorry for him, but then remembered what a prick he’d been to Henry.
“Never too early for a beer on an island, right, Sabrina?” Henry said.
“The breakfast of champions.” Sabrina followed Henry as David led them through the white-picket gate and up the stairs to the front porch, gesturing toward chairs for them to sit in.
“I’d love a cold water. I have a pretty gruesome day at work ahead and think I’d better leave alcohol out of it, at least until it’s over,” Sabrina said.
“I’ve heard about the death of the bride. It’s all over the news.” David glanced over at Henry.
“Shit.” Sabrina sunk into an Adirondack chair.
“What are they saying?” Henry slumped into the chair next to Sabrina.
“That she drowned the night before her wedding to a big-shot businessman and that they don’t know if it’s suicide or an accident.” David cleared his throat and edged toward the kitchen. “Let me grab those waters.”
“Henry, we need to ask David fast if he’ll help. Before this gets worse and the media finds out that Elena wasactually murdered,” Sabrina said quietly, leaning over toward Henry so David wouldn’t hear.
“I get it.”
David returned with three bottles of water and three glasses.
“You can skip the glasses. We really can’t stay long. As much as it’s killing me, I’m really here to ask a favor, David.” Henry paused, Sabrina assumed, waiting to see how David was reacting to his abrupt revelation.
“Okay, what can I do for you?” David asked evenly, handing them each a bottle of water, then sitting on a stool opposite the Adirondack chairs.
Sabrina decided to jump in at this point, since David seemed willing to listen and Henry had already done the hard part. She quickly summarized what had taken place the day and night before and how they’d come to realize it was impossible to make sense of Elena’s murder without knowing more about her history, which involved growing up in San Juan.
“Neil Perry, who used to practice law in California, is willing to go and dig up whatever facts he can from local legal records, but the only way to get to San Juan and back fast is to fly. Of course, you know there’s no airport on St. John. The commercial flights out of St. Thomas wouldn’t give him enough time in Puerto Rico before having to return to his business here. He would’ve asked the one guy on St. John who has his own seaplane to fly him over, but he was killed in a car accident the same nightElena died. No connection, just an unfortunate coincidence, but what we’re left with is—” Sabrina stopped to catch her breath, realizing just how ridiculous and pitiful at the same time the whole story was sounding. Henry must have sensed this and came to her rescue.
“What we’re left with, David, is a seaplane without a pilot. And what Sabrina is so kindly omitting from the story is that on top of all of everything else, this is all my fault. I was bullheaded about adding this over-the-top villa to our cadre of rental homes, refusing to listen to the very good reasons she
David swung his feet quickly off the chaise and stood up, dropping The Goldfinch onto the sand. Sabrina bent over to pick it up, grateful for a few seconds of relief when her eyes did not have to bear witness to this awkward moment.
“Henry, and this must be—”
“Sabrina Salter, David. So nice to finally meet you.” Sabrina used her best manners, the ones Henry exemplified, as she handed David the book and then her hand, which David shook. She was surprised to see that Davidwas completely bald, which made his deep-green eyes pop. He was taller than she was, making him much taller than Henry, whom she towered over.
“Please, come up on the porch. Can I get you coffee, maybe a beer, or is it too early?” David asked, clearly rattled by their surprise appearance. Sabrina felt a little sorry for him, but then remembered what a prick he’d been to Henry.
“Never too early for a beer on an island, right, Sabrina?” Henry said.
“The breakfast of champions.” Sabrina followed Henry as David led them through the white-picket gate and up the stairs to the front porch, gesturing toward chairs for them to sit in.
“I’d love a cold water. I have a pretty gruesome day at work ahead and think I’d better leave alcohol out of it, at least until it’s over,” Sabrina said.
“I’ve heard about the death of the bride. It’s all over the news.” David glanced over at Henry.
“Shit.” Sabrina sunk into an Adirondack chair.
“What are they saying?” Henry slumped into the chair next to Sabrina.
“That she drowned the night before her wedding to a big-shot businessman and that they don’t know if it’s suicide or an accident.” David cleared his throat and edged toward the kitchen. “Let me grab those waters.”
“Henry, we need to ask David fast if he’ll help. Before this gets worse and the media finds out that Elena wasactually murdered,” Sabrina said quietly, leaning over toward Henry so David wouldn’t hear.
“I get it.”
David returned with three bottles of water and three glasses.
“You can skip the glasses. We really can’t stay long. As much as it’s killing me, I’m really here to ask a favor, David.” Henry paused, Sabrina assumed, waiting to see how David was reacting to his abrupt revelation.
“Okay, what can I do for you?” David asked evenly, handing them each a bottle of water, then sitting on a stool opposite the Adirondack chairs.
Sabrina decided to jump in at this point, since David seemed willing to listen and Henry had already done the hard part. She quickly summarized what had taken place the day and night before and how they’d come to realize it was impossible to make sense of Elena’s murder without knowing more about her history, which involved growing up in San Juan.
“Neil Perry, who used to practice law in California, is willing to go and dig up whatever facts he can from local legal records, but the only way to get to San Juan and back fast is to fly. Of course, you know there’s no airport on St. John. The commercial flights out of St. Thomas wouldn’t give him enough time in Puerto Rico before having to return to his business here. He would’ve asked the one guy on St. John who has his own seaplane to fly him over, but he was killed in a car accident the same nightElena died. No connection, just an unfortunate coincidence, but what we’re left with is—” Sabrina stopped to catch her breath, realizing just how ridiculous and pitiful at the same time the whole story was sounding. Henry must have sensed this and came to her rescue.
“What we’re left with, David, is a seaplane without a pilot. And what Sabrina is so kindly omitting from the story is that on top of all of everything else, this is all my fault. I was bullheaded about adding this over-the-top villa to our cadre of rental homes, refusing to listen to the very good reasons she
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