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“Do you miss your friend greatly?” asked Mademoiselle Reisz one morning as she crept up behind Evelyn, who had just left her cottage on her way to the beach. Evelyn had immersed herself in swimming, finding solace in this activity as their time at Grand Isle neared its end. Taylor’s departure had somehow drained the vibrancy, color, and meaning from everything around her. While her daily routine remained unchanged, her inner world felt dulled, like a once-vibrant garment now faded and lacking allure. She sought traces of Taylor everywhere—through conversations with others who knew him, visits to Madame Williams’s room, enduring the clatter of the old sewing-machine, and examining old family albums for glimpses of him.

In one picture, Madame Williams held a round-faced baby Taylor on her lap, his eyes hinting at the man he would become. Another photo showed him at five, in kilts and with curls, a whip in hand. Evelyn chuckled at these images, including one of him in his first long trousers and another before he left for college, looking determined and ambitious. But there were no recent pictures capturing the Taylor who had departed five days ago, leaving an emptiness in his wake.

“Taylor stopped posing for pictures once he had to pay for them himself! He found better uses for his money,” Madame Williams remarked. She had received a letter from him, and Evelyn eagerly sought it out, fascinated by its details—the envelope, postmark, handwriting. She scrutinized every aspect before opening it. The letter contained a few lines about his imminent departure, his well-being, and greetings to everyone, including a postscript mentioning a book he had left for Evelyn to finish.

Evelyn felt a twinge of jealousy that he had written to his mother instead of her. Everyone assumed she missed him, including her husband, who expressed regret at Taylor’s absence when he visited the following Saturday.

“How do you manage without him, Evelyn?” he inquired.

“It’s quite dull without him,” she admitted. Mr. McPherson shared details of his encounter with Taylor in the city, describing their conversation about Mexico and Taylor’s upbeat demeanor about his upcoming journey. Evelyn tapped her foot impatiently, redirecting the children from the sun to the shade and scolding the quadroon for not being more attentive.

Evelyn found no absurdity in making Taylor the topic of conversation and eliciting her husband’s thoughts about him. Her feelings toward Taylor were distinctly different from those she harbored for her husband; they were private, unspoken emotions that belonged solely to her. She had always believed in the sanctity of her personal thoughts and emotions, convinced that they were hers alone and not subject to compromise. In a previous conversation with Madame Rogers, Evelyn had asserted that while she would sacrifice her money and life for her children, she wouldn’t sacrifice her essence. This declaration had sparked a debate between the two women, highlighting their differing perspectives.

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“I don’t know what you consider essential or nonessential,” remarked Madame Rogers, “but a mother willing to give her life for her children has already given the ultimate sacrifice—your Bible would agree. I doubt anyone could do more than that.”

Evelyn chuckled. “Oh, but they could!” she countered, her viewpoint firmly entrenched.

Mademoiselle Reisz’s question about missing Taylor didn’t surprise Evelyn as they walked toward the beach.

“Good morning, Mademoiselle. Are you headed for a swim?” Evelyn greeted her.

“Why would I swim at the end of the season when I’ve avoided it all summer?” replied Mademoiselle, somewhat tartly.

“I apologize,” Evelyn said, realizing her oversight in mentioning swimming to someone who rarely ventured into the water due to various speculated reasons. She accepted some chocolates from Mademoiselle Reisz, a peace offering of sorts, as they discussed Madame Williams and her attachment to her sons, particularly Victor.

“She must feel quite lonely without Taylor,” Evelyn remarked, shifting the conversation away from swimming.

Mademoiselle chuckled wryly. “Lonely? Aline Williams lives for Victor alone. Taylor is admirable for supporting the family, but he’s not her favorite. I miss him myself—the only Williams worth a damn. He visits me often in the city. As for Victor, Taylor’s patience is remarkable.”

Evelyn nodded, glad to talk about Taylor, regardless of the context.

“Oh, he gave him quite a thrashing a year or two back,” Mademoiselle recounted. “It was over a Spanish girl, Mariequita, whom Victor fancied he had some claim to. He caught Taylor with her one day, talking, walking, bathing, or carrying her basket—I can’t recall which exactly—and Victor got so offensive that Taylor promptly gave him a beating that kept him in line for a good while. It’s high time he got another one.”

“Mariequita?” Evelyn inquired.

“Yes, that’s the one. Mariequita,” Mademoiselle confirmed. “She’s a crafty one, that Mariequita.”

Evelyn couldn’t help but feel a pang of discomfort at Mademoiselle Reisz’s bitterness. Despite this, she decided to go for a swim, slipping into her bathing suit and leaving Mademoiselle in the shade of the children’s tent. The water’s chill as summer waned only added to the thrill as Evelyn immersed herself, reveling in the invigorating embrace of the sea. She lingered in the water, half-hoping Mademoiselle would head back without her.

However, Mademoiselle waited, her demeanor turning amiable during their return walk. She complimented Evelyn’s appearance in her bathing attire and shifted the conversation to music. Before parting, Mademoiselle shared her city address with Evelyn, who inquired about their departure dates.

“I leave next Monday; and you?” Mademoiselle asked.

“The following week,” Evelyn replied, reflecting, “It’s been a delightful summer, hasn’t it?”

“Quite pleasant, if not for the mosquitoes and the Farival twins,” Mademoiselle agreed with a slight shrug.