by Grace Palmer
“What what?” he asked.
Holly let out a sharp breath. “What did I want and go after?”
“Well, me, for starters,” he said. “And you’re the one who convinced me to start having kids. I wanted to wait until I was settled in my career, but that would have taken a while.”
Pete was in school for years. Holly worked at the bank to help pay for his classes. Then, when he finally graduated, he was at work all the time. Without Grady around, Holly would have been alone. She didn’t regret having him when they did. But if they’d waited, maybe Holly would have found something else to go after. Like, a career of her own.
“Now we have the two best kids in the world,” Pete said. “Two kids who fought the entire ferry ride after Grady’s Nintendo died.”
“You’re joking. I told him to charge it three different times before he left!”
Pete sighed. “Well, he didn’t listen. And they bickered the entire time because Grady wanted to use Alice’s since she wasn’t using it, but she didn’t want him to use up all of her batteries. It was a whole ordeal. But now, they’re asleep. Which is why I’m in the bathroom talking very, very quietly.”
“I should let you go,” Holly said through a yawn. She rubbed her eyes. “So the kids don’t wake up.”
“And so you can go to sleep and forget this entire conversation ever happened,” Pete laughed.
“That too.”
Holly sighed. She could hear Pete breathing on the other end of the phone. It reminded her of when they were in high school, when she had a Nokia brick phone with prepaid minutes her dad bought for her. The Benson household had strict phone rules, but Holly couldn’t help but sneak her phone under her covers and talk to Pete until she fell asleep. Her parents always found out when she ran out of minutes one week into the month, but it didn’t matter. Holly was so in love with Pete. Even back then.
She’d wanted him, and she’d done whatever was necessary to get him. Maybe his memory of her wasn’t so off-base, after all.
“Goodnight, Hollyday,” Pete said softly, the words warm and comforting. Like a blanket tucked lovingly under her chin. “I love you.”
She loved him, too. God, did she love him.
By the time Holly remembered to answer, Pete had hung up.
The residual warmth from the phone call clung to Holly for a moment, but the longer she laid there in silence with no company aside from her own thoughts, the colder she felt.
According to Pete, Holly’s “spiel” was that she’d won Pete over and convinced him to have children. Even in her husband’s eyes, Holly was a wife and a mother. Period. Clearly, he believed she had some good qualities, but what had she done with them? She hadn’t accomplished anything for herself.
Holly existed only to take care of everyone else.
And that would become painfully clear to her old classmates at the reunion as soon as Holly opened her mouth.
Twenty-four hours earlier, the prospect of the reunion had excited Holly. But now that her bubble of naivete and delusion had popped, she wondered if there was any way she could beg off. Everyone else would have their spiels—their concise, impressive list of accomplishments—and Holly would do what she’d always done: stand on the sidelines so that, by comparison, everyone could feel good about themselves.
Per usual, Holly would lift everyone else up. And in the process, she’d slip through the cracks, unnoticed. Unimportant. Invisible.
12
Mae
The Sweet Island Inn
Mae peeled back the foil on the baking dish. The scent of lemon and garlic swirled into the air. And sure enough, like a moth to the flame, Dominic strolled into the kitchen not a minute later.
“How is dinner coming along? Anything I can help with?”
“If you mean is there anything you can eat, the answer is no. It’s still raw.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “You see right to the heart of me, Mae Benson.”
Mae smiled and looked at the clock above the stove. Quarter to six. Brent and Rose would be there soon, but Mae was well on her way to finishing dinner.
She’d started prepping the moment Debra and Lola left. Bouncing from one distraction to another.
“Everything should be ready by the time they get here,” she said, sliding the pan into the pre-heated oven and closing the door. “The fish will only take fifteen minutes to bake and the salad is marinating in the fridge.”
“The one with the Dijon and honey dressing? And the apple, celery, and…?”
“Dill. That’s the one.”
“Hallelujah. I was so focused on today’s chapter that I missed lunch again. I feel like I’m hollow.”
Hollow. That was a good way to describe it. Earlier in the morning, Mae had been angry. At the owners of the hotel, at the builders, at the future guests who would stay there. Then she’d transitioned into despair.
Now, she felt hollow.
“I made you a sandwich, but you were so intent on your writing when I peeked into the office that I didn’t want to bother you. I wrapped it up for you in the fridge.”
“I’m sorry I missed it,” he said, coming around the island and pulling Mae in for a hug. “At least lunch tomorrow will be sorted.”
“If you remember to eat it.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I have a feeling my fiancé will remind me.”
So much had happened since that morning that Mae nearly forgot she was an engaged woman now. Guilt gnawed at her for being more focused on anything else, but she pushed it aside.
“I suppose I should hide this away for tonight.” Mae pulled off her engagement ring and dropped it in the utensil drawer. “I want to tell the kids all together. At once.”
“It will be a hard secret to keep, but I’m on board with whatever you want.”
The timer on the counter dinged and Mae jumped. “The focaccia! I nearly forgot.”
She spun around and pulled open the oven door. The flat bread was golden brown on top, and when Mae tapped it with a knife, it made a satisfying thud. Perfect.
“Do you want to test a piece?” she asked.
Dominic groaned as she pulled it from the oven and sat it on a hot pad on the island. “Are you trying to seduce me with warm bread? If so, it’s working.”
There was a snort from the hallway. “I hope not!” Brent called in. “Because you have guests.”
Mae flushed as her son came strolling into the kitchen, a baby carrier in one arm and Susanna perched in the other.
“Hello, hello!” Mae hurried around the island and pulled Susanna into a hug. “I’m so happy to see you all. It’s been ages.”
“We saw you yesterday, Gramma!” Susanna giggled, her cheek squished against Mae’s shoulder.
“Which was ages ago! How have you been, dear?”
Rose took up the rear, shuffling into the kitchen with a diaper bag hanging from her shoulder and dark circles under her eyes. “Tired.”
“Dead on our feet,” Brent reiterated, blinking several times slowly to make the point.
Mae winced. “I heard the baby didn’t sleep much last night.”
“The baby never sleeps,” Susanna remarked grimly as she spun in a circle, her sparkly pink dress fanning out around her.
Mae knelt down in front of the carrier and began unbuckling the three-month-old. Despite everyone’s claims, her eyes were wide and alert and as warm and brown as her mom’s.
“I don’t believe them, Jessa Marie,” Mae cooed as she nestled the baby against her shoulder. “They are telling stories, aren’t they? You’re perfect.”
Of course, Mae knew they were telling the truth. As soon as Jessa was born, Mae and Sara started taking turns delivering hot dinners several times each week. And on more than one occasion, Mae had arrived to find another of her children or one of Rose’s friends sitting downstairs with the baby while Brent and Rose tried to catch up on sleep upstairs.
“She is perfect,” Rose said, dropping down onto the st
ool next to Dominic, resting her chin in her hand. “She is also quite loud. And a night owl.”
Dominic patted Rose’s back. “Well, Gramma and Grampa are on duty now. You two relax and we’ll take care of everything.”
At that exact moment, the timer on the oven dinged.
“First, dinner,” Mae said, hanging Jessa off to Brent. “I hope everyone came hungry.”
Dominic helped Mae dish out the food, piling a generous portion of the parmesan- and garlic-covered cod onto each plate along with a hearty scoop of the apple and dill salad. He also helped her slice up the focaccia, though at least one out of every three slices went straight into his mouth. The service tax, he called it.
“Mae, this is delicious.” Rose said once they were all gathered at the table. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m going to miss your cooking. We’ve been spoiled the last few weeks.”
“Who says you have to miss it?” Mae asked.
“We can’t have you cooking for us forever. I feel guilty enough already. Everyone has been so sweet.”
Mae waved away her worry with the knife she’d been using to butter her bread. “Nonsense. You’re family. This is what family is for.”
“See? I told you,” Brent said, wagging his brows at his girlfriend.
Rose sighed. “I know. I just wish there was something I could do to repay you.”
Mae almost said she wouldn’t mind a good reference when she applied to be a lunch lady at Nantucket Elementary. It would help her chances to have the kindergarten teacher on her side. Her other back-up option was taking a job as a line cook at Little Bull—which Mae assumed would end with her and Sara in a screaming match after too much time in close quarters together.
Cooking for a living was the only thing Mae could see herself doing when the Sweet Island Inn closed. If the Inn closed, she corrected. Though the distinction seemed unimportant. At this point, it all felt inevitable.
“All you need to do to repay me is take care of my grandbabies,” Mae said instead with a smile. “And enjoy your summer break.”
Rose groaned and buried her face in her hands.
Mae looked at Brent. “Did I say something wrong?”
“The next school year is shaping up to be kind of crazy for her,” her son explained. “We’ve been avoiding all mention of it.”
“How so?”
Rose sat up. “Do you know Marcia Brooks?”
“I know her mom, Patty,” Mae said. “We worked together at a few of the animal shelter adopt-a-thon weekends. That was years and years ago now.”
Ever since Henry had died, Mae hadn’t kept up with the shelter’s monthly newsletters. She’d have to check and see when their next adopt-a-thon was. Soon enough, Mae might have plenty of time to volunteer again.
“Well, her daughter, Marcia, works at the school. Or, worked at the school, I guess. She was the other kindergarten teacher, but she quit at the end of last year because—"
Brent clapped his hands and pointed at Dominic. “Oh, Dom. You’ll love this. Marcia moved because her husband got hired as an actor in your movie last summer.”
“He played the second love interest—Matt,” Rose said.
“I remember him,” Dominic replied, leaning forward.
“Apparently, he put some feelers out after that movie and actually picked up some acting work. They moved to Los Angeles so he could audition more.”
“Wow,” Mae shook her head. “I guess Sara’s worries about Joey weren’t so farfetched after all.”
Brent chuckled. “Yeah, if his part hadn’t been cut, he’d be gracing billboards across the country by now.”
“As bad as that would have been for Sara, it may have worked out even worse for me,” Rose said. “Marcia left and, rather than fill her spot, the school board has decided that I should just teach both kindergarten classes combined.”
“How many kids will that be?” Mae asked in shock.
“Thirty.” Rose sighed. “They are hiring on more paras to help, but I just don’t see how I’m going to manage.”
Brent reached over and rubbed Rose’s back. “It’s going to be crazy, but you’ll make it work. And on the plus side, you’re the only kindergarten teacher they have now. Your job security has never been better.”
“True,” Rose agreed. “And Marcia helped carry the load, but she also shut down a lot of my curriculum ideas. Now, I’ll have more free rein. That will be nice.”
Shut down. Job security. Rose and Brent meant nothing at all by anything they were saying, of course, but the word choice landed in Mae’s head with a sickening thud each time.
Before Mae could force herself to focus, Jessa started crying. “I’ll get her,” Mae offered quickly, dropping her cloth napkin on the table and scooting back. “You all keep eating. I’m on baby duty.”
She suddenly wasn’t very hungry, anyway.
Jessa was lying in a cushioned baby seat. She had on a ruffly denim bloomer with a onesie covered in sunshine and rainbows. The sight of her was sweet enough that Mae genuinely smiled for the first time since that morning.
“You are a little drop of sunshine, aren’t you?” Mae cooed, scooping Jessa up and walking her into the dining room.
The hummingbird feeders positioned just beyond the large plate glass window were in need of refilling. Mae wondered if the Sweet Island Hotel would offer the same kind of homey touches once they opened. The inn’s guests loved the hummingbirds. Mae did, too.
But refilling them would have to wait. A storm was coming.
At her engagement earlier that morning, the pastel sky had been a clear, resplendent backdrop for one of the happiest moments of Mae’s life. Now, in a mirror of her mood, the canvas was washed in dull gray.
As she gently bounced her newest granddaughter, shushing her quietly to calm her, Mae saw all of her worries and anxieties hidden in the oncoming storm clouds moving across the ocean. They’d make landfall soon.
Mae stood there in front of the window, rocking Jessa and murmuring in her ear long after the baby had stilled and gone to sleep.
“Should I step in?”
Mae startled at the nearness of Brent’s voice. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard him approach. Hadn’t noticed the telltale squeal of the old floorboards as he crossed the dining room.
“Your food is cold,” he said. “Want me to warm it up?”
“I’m not hungry, dear, but thank you,” she whispered, not wanting to wake Jessa.
“You don’t have to whisper. Somehow, the baby who doesn’t sleep all night sleeps like a rock during the day. I vacuumed a rug not three feet from her yesterday, and she didn’t budge. Gonna bring her to the airport and hang out next to the jet engines just to test my theory.”
“Oh, to be as carefree as a newborn. It would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
Brent smiled and nodded, but then his expression shifted. He stepped closer, voice low even though he’d just said there was no need to whisper. “What’s on your mind, Mom?”
Mae stiffened, but pasted on a smile as quickly as she could. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re just like Sara.”
Mae frowned. “Don’t let Sara hear you say that. She’d never forgive you.”
“I just mean you both wear your emotions on your face,” he explained with a wry laugh. “I can tell something is bothering you.”
“I invited you to dinner so I could take care of the baby for you, not so you could take care of me.”
Brent shrugged. “I don’t see why we can’t do both. You hold Jessa, and I’ll figure out what you aren’t telling me. Even though I think I already know.”
Mae turned to him, eyes narrowed. “No, you don’t.”
“As much as I wish I could take all the credit, Rose is the one who figured it out. She noticed a new sign along the road today.”
Mae’s heart clenched and she looked back out the window, at the growing darkness beyond the tulip trees. The wind had begun to w
hip through the leaves. “Oh.”
“It seems you aren’t the only person around here who thinks we live on a Sweet Island.”
As much as Mae didn’t want to admit to anything, it seemed silly to deny it now. Brent was onto her. She sighed. “No, apparently not.”
“Do you have a plan?” he asked.
A plan? The Sweet Island Inn had been Mae’s plan! Well, really, growing old with Henry had been Mae’s plan. But then he was taken from her and she’d found her way here. And now, “here” was being taken from her just the same.
So no, she didn’t have a plan. In Mae’s experience, plans didn’t work out so well.
She shook her head. “Dominic said he can call his lawyers and have them help me the same way they did with the people who tried to plagiarize his work. But I don’t see how that will help. This feels bigger than that. Harder to stop.”
“It is bigger than that,” Brent agreed. “It’s your business. Your life.”
The words rang true, but Mae shook her head. “It’s not my whole life.”
“Mom, c’mon.” Brent dropped his chin, looking down at her. “I don’t know who you think you’re fooling. You’d go crazy without this place.”
“I’d be fine.” Mae swayed side to side with Jessa, feeling the quick rise and fall of the baby’s breathing against her chest. “Dominic and I have plenty of savings and I have a retirement fund. No matter what happens, I’ll be okay.”
“You deserve to be better than okay, Mom. You deserve whatever you want.” Brent stepped closer to her, their shoulders touching as they both faced the window. “You can say what you want, but I’m the one looking at your face. And you haven’t looked like this since… in a long time.”
Since Dad died. Mae could hear those unspoken words on his lips.
Guilt nearly swallowed her whole. Henry was a husband and a father and a man. The inn was just a house where people came to stay sometimes. They weren’t the same thing, were they?
But the pain felt awfully similar. Losing Henry turned her world upside down. Losing the inn now would do the same. It would snatch away the rhythm of her days, the thousand happy little moments that filled them. She’d have to pick up the broken pieces once more and figure out how to reconfigure them.
