Alexander didn’t come back after Ramona had asked to speak with him in private. Now, it’s noon and Sloane and I are seated beneath the vine-covered pergola, overlooking the sea as the breeze sweeps in salted air and the far-off sound of boats hums like a lullaby. 

“I swear,” Sloane said, stretching out her legs and sipping on a glass of peach iced tea, “if today’s activity is anything that involves walking through a vineyard in heels again, I’m revolting.” 

“I thought you ...