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FOR TWO HOURS Piper, in Willa's black dress and white Chuck-Taylors, sorted hors d'oeuvres on platters in one of the cabins next to a small kitchenette the size of a closet with a boy a couple of years older than her. His name was Arturo but everyone called him Art, and besides the fact that they went to school together for a number of years and they lived a few blocks away from each other on the Cut, Art always volunteered to work catering for Abernathy events. It was a known fact that the Abernathys paid and tipped the best. No matter the circumstance.
So Piper closed Willa's bedroom door softly when she left the two sisters and padded down the steps, less reluctant and aggrieved than she had been going up them. She found Harry in the large, expansive kitchen complete with a marble-topped island, two ovens, and a stove. Harry was certainly a sight, one that almost came out of a film. He looked, in a sense, like Tony Stark. Trimmed beard, pristine suit no matter the weather—it was like he was immune to sweat—, and that silent philanthropist-benefactor glow. Like he knew he was financially above everyone in a room, but morally, he wanted everyone to know he was sound. He had glasses perched on his nose bridge as he pointed around and spoke kindly to the people helping his wife throw this time-crunched yacht party together. Piper gathered it was for a leg up in the competition for Grand Knight of the Knights of the Rhododendron—this committee that, Piper guesses, has to do with the Midsummer's Party and the Island Club. Pope had to go to the party every year to help his father with the oysters, but it was never something Piper paid much attention to. She wasn't even sure if Harry did all of this for himself or because Inez liked the flutter and busyness of having something to organize.
"Hey, sir," Piper greeted as she fell into place next to Art who was holding a box of finger sandwich toothpicks with colored cellophane flags on them awaiting instruction.
"'Afternoon, Piper," Harry said distractedly, craning his neck to check the time on the microwave behind him. He turned back slowly, looking at Piper like Inez did outside, appraisingly, "Ya' look different, kid." Piper opened her mouth to reply, but he started rapid-fire instructing Piper and Art while handing Piper a clipboard, "Y'know, I have no idea what Inez wants or means by these abbreviations" —he pointed to the bullet points on the top paper clipped to the clipboard— "but you're smart kids, so I hope you figure it out. If you don't, I'll cover for you."
Piper said something of acknowledgment and held open the back door for Art and another worker from the caterers that was wheeling out something on a cart—probably booze. Piper had the most experience on the yacht itself, from days where Willa insisted on Piper attending family yacht rides—which is a ridiculous tradition to have, what's wrong with family game night? The Pogues do that—or days like these. When Piper is working a yacht party so she can pay her father's electrical bill or cook her brother and John B a meal with actual food. So, her understanding of the yacht's blueprints meant she was leading everyone back and forth through the house, down the dock, and around the inside of the yacht. Like a tour guide on a cruise.
