She knew, as soon as she saw Lucas, that it was about Grandpa.

Why else would her brother be standing there on the beach in his shoes and pants, shouting at her to come in?

Ella waved back at him, swam back towards the shore letting the waves push her forward. As she walked out of the water, she could see that line between his brows was deeper than usual. She was in for another lecture about swimming alone.

“I knew you’d be here,” Lucas said bitterly, as he handed her the towel. I knew you’d be exactly where Mom, Pop, everyone, has has told you not to go…”

“…about a million times,” she said, drying her arms. “It’s Grandpa isn’t it?”

“What would happen if you got into trouble here, Ella? What if you got caught in a current? Do you see another soul to pull you out?”

“My angel protects me,” she said, draping her towel over her shoulders, and then, quickly, before he could react to that… “Is Grandpa in the hospital again? Is he all right?”

“Yes,” he said, then, “No. I mean, he’s there but… Ella, I’m sorry.”

“Grandpa’s gone.”

Ella tried to think of something to say. She was supposed to feel grief, but all she felt was a wide empty space inside with a little blob of sadness wriggling in the middle.

“You mean he’s dead. Are you here to take me to the hospital?”

“No point. Everything there is over. Mom and Pop took Tante back to Pond House.” He held out her beach bag.

“We’re expected there. I’ll stop by home so you can put some clothes on.”

They didn’t talk much on the drive home, or to Pond House. Lucas looked preoccupied. In another month he’d be twenty-one, and in less than a year he’d graduate from Kilkenny, so he was taking life very seriously these days. Ella supposed she should start getting serious, too. She just wasn’t sure how.

Sometimes she felt as though she were standing under a teetering pile of “first things” ready to topple over on her. There had already been the period “first thing,” and the makeup “first thing,” and of course the date “first thing,” which had been disappointing. And the kiss “first thing,” which was even more disappointing. Last year, it was the college “first thing” and at the same time, that big, clobbering “first thing” of Pop asking her “what do you want to do with your life?”

Today’s “first thing” was death.

Technically, it wasn’t really the first. She could remember when Great-Grandpa died, but that barely counted.

He’d been so old, and all she could recall about him was a white beard and dark, almost black eyes, looking down at her with a fierceness she’d always interpreted as dissatisfaction.

But Grandpa Artiste had been different. She had known him when his back was straight, his shoulders broad, his stride so quick she’d had trouble keeping up with him when he walked.

Maybe his loss would hit her at Pond House. Maybe when she saw his empty chair, a storm of sadness would hit her and she’d burst into tears like you were supposed to do when someone died.

They walked straight to the back yard when they got to Pond House. Pop was sitting in one off the wicker chairs, talking to Tante and Aunt Kitty. As they passed the house they could hear Mom’s voice inside, talking to someone and moving things around.

“No,” Tante was saying to Aunt Kitty. “Thank you, but no, Cherie. I will be fine.”

“If you’re sure, Laurette,” said Aunt Kitty. “My spare room is all ready for you.”

“I am sure.”

Ella looked at Tante’s face. It did not look “ravaged,” the way writers described grief in books. There were no tears, or streaks of tears. Tante Laurette just looked very tired, as if she had not slept the night before.

“I haven’t taken it in yet, son” Pop said. He had risen to hug Lucas. When he turned to Ella, she saw tears in his eyes.

“Oh Pop, I’m so sorry,” she said, thowing her arms around him and kissing him on the cheek.

“I should have been prepared,” he said. “I thought I was.” He wiped his eyes. “But still…”

Lucas had gone to the bench and bent to kiss Tante Laurette.He stepped back, and it was Ella’s turn, and she had taken Lucas’ place and was about to say, “I’m so sorry, Tante,” when she realized she’d already said, “I’m so sorry, Pop” to Pop, and it would sound stupid and rote if she said the same thing.

“It’s all right, ma fille,” said Tante in her soft voice, with her sharp, slightly foreign consonants. She reached out and squeezed one of Ella’s hands. “Give yourself time.”

“It was a merciful release,” Pop said, and she realized he was standing behind her. “Ella knows that.”

“Right, Pop,” Lucas said, his voice hard and even. “You know all about what Ella knows.”

“Lucas,” Aunt Kitty said quietly. “What is the matter with you?”

“Pop’s right,” Ella said. “That’s exactly what I… That’s what I know. I mean, Grandpa was so sick, for so long.”

Why, why did I mention my angel to Lucas? she thought. When will I learn? It was so often like this, she’d say something she shouldn’t, and think Lucas had forgotten, then discover he’d been brooding about it the whole time.

Lucas would not look at her or at Pop. Instead, he began talking to Tante about how she needed to call him any time she needed help. If she wanted him to drive her someplace, if she needed any chores done around the house…

“Your brother is upset,” Pop said quietly.

“On days like this, everyone reacts differently. You feel a little empty, right? Hollow? Wondering when the tears will come?”

She smiled. Pop did understand her. Maybe that’s what truly bothered Lucas. “I just can’t believe it yet,” she said.

“That’s natural. It’s all too new for you. But it will come and…” he looked over her shoulder and swore quietly, just loud enough for her to hear it. “Christ.”

“Of course she’d show up,” he muttered.

Ella looked over her shoulder to see Mrs. Duday speaking to Mom. That must have been who Mom was talking to inside.

“Marion!” Tante Laurette stood, and Mrs. Duday walked so quickly to her it was almost a run, her arms open.

“Judith phoned me from the hospital this morning,” Mrs. Duday said as they hugged. “Oh my dear, is there anything I can do? Anything at all? I brought a casserole…”

“You are here,” said Tante. “That is enough.” For the first time, Ella heard something close to tears in her voice.

“He was a good man,” said Mrs. Duday, and Ella could see she had been crying. “Such a fine, fine man.”

It was odd to see Mrs. Duday like this, dressed in an ordinary skirt and sweater, and so plainly at a losss. Most of the time, Ella had just seen her at public events, dressed up, coolly beautiful, always so calm, so self-possessed. When she thought of club ladies, she thought of Mrs. Duday.

“Do you know my good friend, Cherie?” Tante said. “Marion, this is Artiste’s granddaughter, Ella Macana.”

Marion smiled. “Why yes, we met, though I don’t believe we got the chance to talk. One of your lovely paintings was up for the Finnegan competition, wasn’t it?”

“Yes ma’am.” Ella looked away, embarrassed. She’d destroyed the painting as soon as she found out it hadn’t even made the finals.

“It amazes me, how quickly she has grown,” Tante sighed. “And how beautiful she has become. Do you know, Ella, you look very like your grandmother Pinny? Of course, you probably hear that all the time.”

“Life goes on, doesn’t it,” said Mrs. Duday. She lay a hand on Tante’s arm. “Now, Laurette, listen to me. I really have to insist. This house is no place for you tonight. Leon and I have that quiet extra bedroom…”

Nobody had ever before said Ella looked like Grandmother Peony.

Ella had two good eyes and a mirror over her dresser. She knew she was beautiful. But when people talked about family, they said she took after Pop, or Aunt Kitty.

Laurette was talking to Mrs. Duday. Dad was talking to Lucas. Mom was talking to Aunt Kitty. Ella didn’t even have to say, “excuse me,” before walking away.

Except for Mrs. Duday’s covered casserole on the counter, everything in the kitchen was clean to the point of bareness.

Aunt Kitty and Mom had probably done some straightening up as soon as they arrived. Lately, what with taking care of Grandpa, Tante’s housekeeping had begun to slip, and there was often strange clutter — books on the counter, medicine bottles in silverware drawers. Once Mom had found a stack of clean dishes on the floor in a corner of Grandpa’s study.

The place didn’t seem so damp this afternoon. There was just the faintest odor of the beach, like you would find in any other old house close to the sea. Ella really didn’t know why everyone kept complaining about it. She loved the smell of the ocean.

The picture had hung on that wall ever since she could remember. Everyone said it had been there since just after Grandma drowned. It was like most old pictures, yellowish and dull, and Ella really didn’t see how you could tell what anyone really looked like in those things.

Grandma’s hair and skin had been much darker than her’s. Obviously, there was no color in the picture, but Peony’s eyes were supposed to have been “Roselyn eyes,” a deep striking blue. Ella’s eyes were blue too, but just ordinary blue like Mom’s not a midnight color like Aunt Kitty’s or Pop’s.

But maybe that was just because she looked so white. Maybe it was a matter of pale eyes reflecting the colors around them. If she wasn’t such a pinkie her eyes might be Roselyn eyes.

She stepped closer, studying the face, which seemed to become less distinct the closer she got. Old pictures were like that sometimes.

What were you thinking when that was taken? she wondered. Were you happy? What did you see? After the picture was snapped, where did you go? Was Grandpa there? She tried to imagine the lady in the picture blinking, raising her shoulders with relief once the photograph was taking, maybe looking to the side and saying something to a version of Grandpa Ella had never known, a young, strong man who worked at the Rose instead of running a church.

A sharp stab of the sadness she’d been seeking made her swallow hard.

It wasn’t just that Grandpa was gone. Everything he had known, everything he could have told her was gone forever.

The house was colder than she’d thought. The room smelled like seaweed. Ella was turning to go out when the door opened and Mom and Aunt Kitty came in, talking, their voices pitched low. “…we’ll just need to give her a little time,” Aunt Kitty was saying. “The first thing is to get some nourishment into her.”

“Sweetheart,” Mom said, when she saw Ella. “We’re making some tea. Would you like some?”

“I hope we can find everything,” said Aunt Kitty. “Poor Laurette’s been so upset lately she does sometimes put things… Oh look, here it is. Thank you for taking it out, Ella. That was very thoughtful.”

Ella was sure there had been nothing but the casserole on the counter when she came in, but she decided not to say so.

“I mean it, Mims,” Kitty said, as she filled the kettle at the sink, “just let Marion talk to her. Those two have always been thick as thieves.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Mom said, as she opened a cabinet. I like Marion Duday. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. It’s just… that family, Kitty.” She had taken down a glass and a bottle of rum now was getting a coke out of the refrigerator, and a lime. “They get on Artie’s nerves,” she said, cutting the lime in half and squeezing the juice into the glass “and now they are going to descend upon us,” she added just a little rum and poured in the Coke, “and honest-to-God, I don’t want to have to hear Artie going on and on and on about them. Sweetheart, take this out to your father.” She handed Ella the now filled glass. “I think he could use it.”

Ella stepped out, relieved to feel the sun on her skin, breathe in the fresh scent of grass.

Tante and Marion were sitting on the bench now, deep in conversation. Pop had moved a few feet away from them and was talking to Lucas, his head down, and for a moment she was afraid they were arguing. Then she saw Lucas nod, and realized Pop was just going on and on.

“…like seeing a drop on the pavement,” he was saying. “It’s never just one. I guarantee you, it’s going to start raining Dudays.”

“C’mon, Pop,” said Lucas, “you know Laurette’s family is bound to be concerned about her. And what about Nurse Judy? You said she was great at the hospital, you said you didn’t know what you’d have done without her.”

“That sweet girl is not a Duday. Not really. And neither is her mother.”

Which didn’t make sense to Ella, because everyone knew Nurse Judy was old man Duday’s granddaughter. Pop’s last breakdown had been brought on by old Mr. Duday dropping dead while Pop was catering an event at The Society.

Not that she blamed Pop. She’d probably crack up too if she saw a dead body in the elevator.

Especially if it laughed at her.

“Mom made this for you,” Ella said, handing Pop the glass. “She and Aunt Kitty are making tea,” she said.

“Good. They’d better make a lot. I hope they remember the Dudays all take theirs with anisette.”

Night fell quickly on the island. Lucas and Marion were lighting the outside lamps just as Ella brought out the tea. Mom had remembered about the Dudays. Before handing Ella the tray, Mom had poured a generous splash of anisette into one of the cups. “This one is Tante’s,” she’d said.

But when Aunt Kitty poured it for her, Tante turned her head, whispering “I don’t want it.”

“Oh, Laurette, come on now,” said Kitty. “We made it just the way you like it.”

Tante Laurette raised her head.

“I can’t.”

She looked down again, and to Ella’s shock, she looked angry. “I am not wanted here.” Her lips turned down. “Everybody wants me to leave. Everybody.”

“Now, Laurette Duday Macana, you will stop that,” said Kitty gently. “You are exhausted. You’ve had no sleep and no nourishment since last night except that horrible bologna sandwich at the hospital and you are not acting like yourself. I am telling you now, this instant, as a friend and a relative, to drink this nice cup of tea we made especially for you. And then you’re going to have some of Marion’s delicious casserole. Not wanted here! Such talk!”

Laurette took the cup of tea and sipped. Then sipped again. She raised her head and blinked back tears.

“I am so sorry,” she said softly “I did not mean… I just…”

“Of course, honey,” Kitty said. “Of course… we all understand.”

“I’m sorry Tante Laurette,” Ella said. She felt sick, even a little afraid.

She’d never felt close to Grandpa’s wife. People always talked about Laurette as if she were some kind of saint, and saints made her uneasy. But never before had Ella seen strong, dignified Tante Laurette like this, her homely face tightened with self-pity, her lips trembling, wet. Was this what grief was like? It wasn’t like people in the movies, who were all solemn and dignified. It was ugly.

Aunt Kitty had some tea, and Mom, and Mrs. Duday. Lucas shook his head and Pop was still nursing his Rum and Coke. Ella carried the tray inside.

The anisette bottle was on the counter.

She poured just a splash into a cup, then added the tea.

It was good. Tasted like licorice.

Ella added a little more anisette and took another sip.

No wonder Tante liked it. It made the tea warmer somehow, more calming. She carried it outside.

As soon as she stepped out onto the patio, Lucas was in front of her, frowning. He bent slightly, and sniffed at her cup.

“You spiked your tea!” he hissed, furious, and he was about to say something else, when they heard Pop greeting someone.

“Ah,” Pop said, “You’re here,” and his cool, even tone made Ella think at first it must be a Duday.

It wasn’t.

“Good evening, Auntie,” Pop said.