“Not from,” he said. “But I moved out here a little while ago.”

  “I’ve never seen you before.”

  “And you know everyone there is to know in Nantucket?” he asked.

  The man’s smile electrified her. She thought it was the handsomest smile she’d ever seen. Frankie realized how stupid she sounded.

  He stuck out his hand. “My name is Zane. And yours?”

  Frankie slid her hand into his. “I’m Frankie.”

  “Frankie. I love that name.”

  “Zane’s not half bad either.”

  It was the first time in months that Frankie felt attractive, the first time that she hadn’t thought about her failure or her body or her inability to accept or understand love. Zane shook her hand extra long, as though he didn’t want to stop touching her. She didn’t want him to stop, either.

  “Can I sit down for a second?” Zane asked.

  Frankie nodded. “My sister’s just over there.”

  Zane followed her gaze and raised his eyebrows. “Where are you coming back from?”

  “The city.”

  He smiled again. “Me too.”

  “What took you there?”

  “Business,” he said. “And you?”

  Frankie didn’t want to get into the job interview. She wanted to bury it forever and never think of it again. “We have friends there.”

  “But you don’t want to move there yourself?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Frankie swallowed. “Did you ever live there?”

  “Yes. For a long time,” he said.

  “Why did you leave?” Frankie asked.

  “Nantucket has a certain je ne sais quoi,” he said. His French accent was exquisite as though he’d lived there or spent time with a real French person. “I can’t get enough of it. And I can finally breathe. I feel like I’ve spent the past few years hustling, breathing that horrible swampy New York City air. Who knows what it’s done to my lungs?”

  He smiled wider, and Frankie wondered how he got his teeth so white.

  “Maybe that’s reason enough to never leave the island,” Frankie said.

  “Yes, Frankie. You should stay in Nantucket forever,” Zane told her. “There’s nothing else out there. Mark my words.”

  Frankie’s cheeks were hot. Her emotions felt stirred up, like a strange and bubbly soup. All morning and afternoon, she’d felt like absolute garbage. And now, in the provocative light of Zane’s attention, she felt like somebody who mattered. Somebody beautiful. Somebody who deserved to be flirted with by such a handsome, older, worldly man.

  “I still don’t know many people in Nantucket,” Zane said. “I guess you know everyone now? Now that you’ve met me?” He laughed.

  Frankie blushed.

  “A lot of my friends left,” Frankie admitted. “They come back and visit. But yeah. I don’t know. It’s been just my sister and me all summer.”

  Zane waved his hand. “Maybe you can show me around sometime. Show me the secret beaches. The best hiking routes.”

  He continued to gaze at her with such power that Frankie nearly forgot her own name. “I’d like that,” she finally said.

  “Great.” Zane pulled out his phone—proof that he’d known the time when he’d initially asked her, which meant that he’d just wanted to talk to her. He passed the phone over. “Why don’t you give me your phone number?”

  Frankie concentrated hard, tapping in her number and passing his phone back. She glanced beyond him to see Nellie, who was still on the phone but watching them like a hawk. Frankie smiled and gave her sister a small wave. Nellie raised a single eyebrow.

  There was an announcement that they needed to head to their vehicles; the ferry was nearly in Nantucket Harbor. Frankie got up just as Zane texted her: Hi, now you have my number, too. She laughed and locked eyes with him.

  “It was nice to meet you,” she said.

  I’ve never been so attracted to someone in my life, she thought again.

  “It was beautiful to meet you, too,” he said. “I look forward to seeing you later this week.”

  Frankie floated toward Nellie, who got off the phone and followed her down the staircase to their car. Nellie sputtered with questions. “Who was that guy? What were you talking about?” But Frankie refused to answer anything until they reached the car.

  Frankie hopped into the driver’s side. Nellie got in and gaped at her.

  Frankie felt as though she had sudden and unlimited energy. She closed her eyes and said, “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

  “I mean, he looks old. Kind of?” Nellie said.

  “He’s like ten years older than me,” Frankie shot, although she didn’t know his age for sure. “I’m twenty-three. I graduated already! I can date whoever I want!”

  Nellie raised her shoulders. Frankie could read her expression: Mom and Dad won’t like it.

  “I just really need something right now,” Frankie said as she drove slowly, following the line of cars back onto the island. “And I think a hot date with that handsome man might do me some good.”

  “You’re right. You’re right.” Nellie laughed and fell back against the car seat. “I’m sorry for doubting you. You deserve to be happy.”

  “And I wouldn’t have been happy at that stupid office job,” Frankie affirmed, raising her chin.

  “What if they offer you the job anyway?” Nellie asked. “What if the job interview went better than you think?”

  Frankie snorted. “It didn’t. Trust me.”

  But it didn’t matter. Frankie’s heart fluttered with a sense of magic and freedom. She could still feel the energy that beamed out from Zane’s eyes. She could imagine them kissing on a Nantucket beach as the winds rolled off the waves. She could already imagine them spending all of autumn in Nantucket, heading to the city in winter, and getting an apartment. Perhaps they’d run into Colin and Brynne at their favorite dumpling place in February or March. Maybe Colin would look at her and her handsome boyfriend with bug eyes. Perhaps she’d lean against Zane and say, “I hope you’re doing okay, Colin?” I hope you’re doing okay without me.

  It was time for Frankie to find solid ground again. It was time for her to breathe.

  Chapter Seven

  What Ida should have done immediately was this. She should have run out onto the dock and ended their tours for the day, for the week, for the month. All of the cruises were uninsured—just as they’d been all spring and summer. She should have ceased operation for the safety of their guests, their crew, and their caterers.

  But Ida was too headstrong to do that. She was sure they could get to the bottom of this, that she and Shelby could confront Malcolm, demand he return the missing funds, pay the insurance company, pay Mr. Grayson, and pay everyone back. Maybe I’m an optimist, she thought now, but I genuinely believe that I can fix everything. And that’s the single greatest mindset to take through life and business.

  Shelby had written that afternoon to explain that she and Malcolm had a few things to take care of at home but that she’d be back on the docks tomorrow first thing.

  Ida decided to spend the day on the docks, boosting the morale of her staff members. She brought water, asked questions, and helped guests aboard. She welcomed people back to Nantucket for their yearly vacations; she poured drinks at the little bar along the water; she chatted up the bartenders and asked about their home lives.

  To outsiders, she looked beautiful, fiery, and thrilled to be in operation.

  But on the inside, she was twisted up and confused.

  Because with every moment that passed, she got closer to her conversation with Shelby. And she knew that conversation would be difficult.

  Ida drove home late that night and was surprised to see Frankie’s light in her bedroom window. Ida parked in the garage, her head pounding, realizing she’d forgotten about Frankie’s job interview today. A better mother would have texted to see how it had gone. A better mother would have called, for heaven’s sake.

  But hadn’t Frankie and Nellie said they were staying in the city tonight?

  Ida entered the dark house and placed her car keys on the kitchen counter. Far down the hall was the ghoulish light and soft murmuring from the television. It was Rick, probably watching a documentary or a crime drama. Ida suddenly wanted to burrow herself against him and cry and cry. She wanted to make popcorn, eat to her heart’s content and sleep for the rest of the week.

  Instead, she forced herself to the second floor to knock on Frankie’s bedroom door.

  “Come in?” Frankie sounded confused.

  Ida opened the door to find her eldest propped up on her bed with a magazine across her thighs. Her laptop was playing new music—something Frankie and Nellie had shown Ida last week. Ida no longer remembered the name but had pretended to like it. Frankie was wearing a university T-shirt and a big pair of boxers, and she’d taken off her makeup and taken out her contacts. She now looked about five years younger than twenty-three. In a way, she looked like Ida’s little girl again.

  “Hi, honey.” Ida leaned against the doorframe and pressed her palms together. “How did it go today?”

  Frankie flipped through the magazine passively. “Oh, you mean the interview?”

  Frankie spoke of it as though it were an afterthought. As though it wasn’t the single biggest thing that had happened for Frankie and her future career that summer.

  “Yes, I mean the interview.”

  “Oh. It was fine, I guess. I don’t think that place is for me, though,” she said.

  Ida’s heart thumped. What does that mean? Does it mean she doesn’t want the job? Does it mean they didn’t want to hire her? Decoding information from a teenager was one thing; they were easier to see through. But decoding information from a twenty-three-year-old was a whole separate beast.

  I’m too tired to figure this out today, Ida decided.

  “I thought you and your sister wanted to stay in the city tonight,” Ida said.

  “Yeah. Nellie decided to make plans with friends tonight,” Frankie said.

  Ida furrowed her brow. It was rare that Nellie and Frankie spent their evenings apart. Although most of Frankie’s friends were off the island, many of Nellie’s were still here, and they’d formed a little group, running around together, pretending the severity of the future didn’t exist.

  “You didn’t want to go with them?”

  “I don’t think I was invited.”

  Ida parsed through Frankie’s tone for signs of resentment but found nothing.

  “You’re in for the night, then?” Ida asked.

  Frankie nodded.

  “Do you want anything? A glass of wine? Some hot chocolate?” Ida asked.

  “That’s okay. Thanks, though.”

  “Are you sure? We could watch a film.”

  Ida suddenly wanted—with desperate intensity—to have a normal evening. She wanted to pretend the metaphorical boat of her life wasn’t sinking into the murky depths. She wanted to pour her daughter a glass of something; she wanted to enjoy a glass of something; she wanted to hear stories from Frankie’s interview and drive to Manhattan; she wanted to know her daughter intimately and totally. She wanted Frankie to know how much she loved her, no matter what.

  But instead, Ida stepped back into the hallway. “Good night!”

  Ida walked downstairs. She wore sorrow on her shoulders.

  In the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of wine and composed a text message to Shelby—one of fear and anger. She deleted it without sending it and went down the hallway to find Rick.

  Rick was stretched out on the sofa with a bag of chips on the floor and a can of beer in his hand. He’d opted for a crime drama that looked to have been filmed somewhere dark and cold, maybe Scandinavia. He perked up immediately when she entered and paused the film.

  “I didn’t hear you come in!”

  Ida leaned down and kissed him, tucking herself in beside him and taking a sip of wine. She felt the comforting beat of his heart through her back.

  “How’s it going?” Rick asked. He sounded so casual. So easy. She hadn’t shared with him anything that had happened today, which made it easier.

  She also hadn’t told him she’d withdrawn two grand from their personal account to tip the employees from her father’s party. It was the tip of the iceberg.

  “Any news on Mrs. Grayson?” he asked.

  Ida remembered Mrs. Grayson and her surgery with a strange sense of time and memory. It now felt as though she’d had her accident five years ago or more.

  “I know Mr. Grayson contacted our insurance company,” Ida said tentatively. “But I don’t know what happened with Mrs. Grayson. Last I heard, she was out of surgery and resting comfortably.”

  “If he’s already contacted the insurance company, she’s probably okay,” Rick said. “You only think to do normal things when things are normal again.”

  Ida steadied her breath.

  We never would have learned about the ever-diminishing funds without Mrs. Grayson’s accident. We would have been in the dark until suddenly, suddenly our bank account hit zero.

  Somebody knows something.

  Ida smiled nervously and sat up. Her eyes connected with Rick’s. She studied him for a few seconds, wondering, how do I know for sure it’s Malcolm?

  On the drive back home that night, it had felt startlingly clear to Ida that Malcolm was taking the funds. It felt probable that Malcolm was having an affair. Maybe he had a second relationship somewhere, a second family, responsibilities that had nothing to do with Shelby. Maybe he was plotting his departure.

  We should have protected ourselves from men like Malcolm, Ida had thought at the time.

  But now, in the shadows and blue light of the television, Ida asked herself, why am I so sure it’s not Rick?

  “Are you okay?” Rick asked.

  Ida pressed her lips together and tried to imagine Rick with a second life somewhere. It wasn’t so difficult. After all, her grandpa Chuck Coleman had had a second life in Martha’s Vineyard. He’d raised Uncle Roland and her father Grant in Nantucket and then mosied over to Martha’s Vineyard to fall in love and father Meghan and Oriana.

  Ida had heard him say several times that he’d loved both of his wives. That he’d loved both of his families.

  But hadn’t he had to betray his first family before he’d been able to fall in love with his second?

  What did that mean about love? Was it ever strong enough to keep people from hurting each other?

  Ida had never once considered cheating on Rick. It was often difficult for her to imagine why anyone thought about cheating in the first place. Were they not really in love with their spouse? Were they manipulative? Evil?

  But Ida had seen her fair share of true crime documentaries and crime thrillers—most of them here on this very sofa with Rick by her side. Even in real life, married couples had what other people called “fairy-tale lives.” They got married. They had children. They built houses, celebrated birthday parties, paid their bills, and said they loved each other.

  But even still, spouses betrayed one another. They had affairs. They even murdered each other!

  Ida wasn’t stupid enough to believe Rick planned to murder her.

  Even considering the idea that he was having an affair and stealing from her company was so far outside the bounds of reason that she struggled to hold on to the thought for more than a few seconds.

  But once the thought was planted like a seed, she leaned back and peered at Rick, looking for signs in his face.

  Rick noticed it immediately. “What’s up? Are you feeling all right?”

  “I feel fine.” Ida sipped her wine and considered her grandma Margaret, who Grandpa Chuck had cheated on. Had Grandma Margaret suspected anything? Had she asked pointed questions, trying to grasp the truth behind Grandpa Chuck’s frequent trips to Martha’s Vineyard?

  Had Grandma Margaret felt like a fool?

  “Do you want me to start the film over?” Rick asked.

  “No. That’s okay.” Ida closed her eyes, and Rick tugged her into him so they could cuddle.

  But all the while, Ida’s heart thudded with fear, and her stomach stirred with nausea.

  What if this is all Rick’s fault?

  What if I lose my business, my husband, and my family in one fell swoop?

  Chapter Eight

  Zane texted Frankie for the first time later that night. Still buzzing after the magic of their meet-cute, Frankie watched his name pop up on her phone and felt another adrenaline spike. Something told her not to read it immediately, to make him stew. But another part of her remembered that “playing games” like that was something people did in university, not out in the real world. If Zane was going to be her first real adult relationship, she wanted to approach it with real adult values.

  She waited five minutes before she read.

  ZANE: Hey. It was cool to meet you today.

  ZANE: What’s your week like? I want to take you out.

  Frankie was suddenly on her feet, pacing along her bed. She couldn’t control her heartbeat. He already wants to take me out. No messing around. Straight to the point.

  Suddenly, she imagined herself getting engaged within the year. Colemans always married young. Colemans always had children young. Her grandparents, her parents, her aunts, her uncles, and her cousins would all think she was falling in line with what the rest of the Colemans did. They would think she was okay. Happy. Healthy.

  Just then, Nellie’s car pulled into the driveway. Frankie watched as Nellie clambered out and hurried inside. A few minutes later, Nellie was upstairs and in Frankie’s bedroom, no longer glum after their failed trip to Manhattan. It was clear she felt bad for abandoning Frankie tonight. It wasn’t like them to turn their backs on each other like that.

  But Frankie was too smitten to care about Nellie and Nellie’s friendship group. She showed Nellie the texts from Zane. Her smile hurt her face.

  Nellie raised her shoulders. “He sounds so nice?”

  “So nice, right?” Frankie fell across her bed and spread her hand across her chest.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17