No Love Like Nantucket

by Grace Palmer

  “Thanks,” Toni sighed. Her neck had begun aching out of nowhere. She reached up a hand to rub out the kinks. “I’m falling apart, Mae.”

  “You and me both,” her sister-in-law clucked, sounding not the least bit distressed about it. “I’ve got a bad knee that sounds like firecrackers shooting off every time I go up and down the stairs. The kids hear me coming from a mile away. I can’t catch them up to any mischief these days.”

  Toni laughed. “Your kids? Mischievous? I’d have to see it to believe it.”

  “They’ve got you fooled ten ways to Sunday, darling. My younger two most especially.”

  “That’s the Henry in them, right?”

  Mae clicked her teeth. “I’d certainly hope so! I was a well-behaved little girl.”

  Toni threw a gentle, teasing elbow into Mae’s ribs as they pushed through the doors and out into the warmth of the parking lot outdoors. “I’m sure you weren’t all sunshine and roses.”

  Mae grinned, a flash of her own brand of mischief that looked just like Henry’s. Two peas in a pod, her and him. It was still a marvel to Toni that there existed a pair of people in this world who were as perfect for each other as her brother and his wife. As always, she felt the twin pang of envy and the simple joy of seeing loved ones be happy. She tried to ignore how much more the envy stung today than it normally did.

  “Well, there was this one time…”

  “Mhmm. That’s what I thought.”

  Mae hefted Toni’s luggage into the trunk and closed it. With the time creeping close to noon, the sun was almost directly overhead. It shone down bright and beautiful. The sky stretched in an unbroken field of cerulean blue from horizon to horizon. Toni closed her eyes and indulged in a brief, bizarre daydream about grabbing hold of a balloon and letting it carry her off into that never-ending blueness. Blue above, blue below, bluer and bluer everywhere she looked…

  “Toni?” Mae asked. “You ready to go? You look a little tired, dear.”

  “Yes,” Toni said with a smile. “I’m ready.”

  They both clambered into the car. Mae pulled out carefully after checking and double-checking for oncoming traffic—she had always been a bit of a nervous driver. “I’ve got your room made up for you already. Holly and Eliza are bunking together, which has thrilled both of them, I assure you.”

  “You didn’t have to do that to the girls,” Toni said with guilt.

  “Nonsense. They’ll be just fine. Teenage girls are a hardy lot, if a bit whiny when the mood strikes.”

  “Truer words were never spoken.”

  They wound their way out of the airport and picked up Old South Road. Toni drank in the sights as they passed outside of her window: Nantucket Gray and Gardener Green paint on all the houses, weathered siding and shingled roofs basking in the noontime glow, split-rail fences wrought with Virginia creepers and greenbriers fighting for light.

  Old South Road took them to the turnaround right at the rim of downtown. They swung left and followed the edge of the main drag, past the bank and the Stop & Shop. Then they continued away from the hubbub, towards where the houses spread apart once more and the sense of salty calm thickened in the air.

  Just before they left the last of the shops behind them, Toni noticed something and frowned. “That lot hasn’t always been empty, has it?” She pointed towards a barren patch of grass and dirt off to the right.

  They were paused to let a cute little blonde family cross the street, Mom and Dad each holding one of their child’s hands. Mae looked to where Toni was pointing.

  “No, it hasn’t. That used to be…now, what was it? I can’t recall. Sometimes I think my brain is getting as bad as my knee.”

  “The B&B.”

  “Of course, that’s right.” Mae slapped Toni on the thigh. “You were always the brighter Benson, isn’t that so?” She stage-winked, which would’ve normally gotten a small chuckle out of Toni.

  But Toni was too busy gazing wistfully at the spot where the bed and breakfast used to be. “That was the one that Patricia and Marcus owned, right? The Partridges?”

  “Mhmm, yep, that’s exactly it.”

  “What happened?”

  The Partridges had been friends with Toni and Henry’s parents for a long time. They’d owned and operated a small six-room homestay there. Their guests raved about how delightful the place was, and they had regulars come back year after year after year. It seemed odd for them to just close up shop when they’d been doing quite well as far as Toni was aware.

  “I believe their granddaughter got quite sick, poor thing, so they sold the place and moved to Philadelphia to help care for her with their son and his wife.”

  “What a shame. I’m sorry to hear about their granddaughter.”

  “Yes, very sad. They were a nice couple.”

  Toni couldn’t help but frown. There was something jarring about coming back to the place where you grew up and realizing that the reality of it doesn’t match your memories anymore. She felt unsettled, almost nauseous, and she decided that she’d better go down for a nap once she got back to Mae’s house.

  “I told you Henry would be gone for the weekend, right?” Mae said suddenly, as if she’d just remembered.

  “You told me, yes. Guy thinks he’s slick, getting out of Dodge just when his sister arrives.”

  “He certainly does. But you know what it’s like trying to keep him cooped up when he’s yearning to hit the water.”

  Toni chuckles. “I shudder to think of it. I certainly don’t envy you the challenge, that’s for sure.”

  “I wasn’t going to stand in his way, believe you that. Better with him out of our hair anyway, don’t you think?” They pulled into the driveway. “Well, here we are! Home sweet home.” Mae put the car in park and looked over at Toni. “The kids are all out, for a change, so we’re in luck. I believe Lola tempted them down the street with a batch of brownies. But I imagine maybe you’d like to just go lie down for a while before you face that particular hurricane anyway, hm?”

  “I think that’s probably a good suggestion.”

  “Let’s do that then, dear. Come, I’ll help you get settled in, and then I’ll let you rest for a while before dinner. I’ve got a glass of wine with your name on it when the time comes.”

  “You keep the glass; give me the bottle…” Toni had meant it as a joke, but it came out a bit more bitter than she intended.

  Mae smiled politely, but tilted her head and looked over to where Toni sat in the passenger seat. She’d clearly heard a note in Toni’s voice that sounded a touch wrong. “Is everything okay, hon?” she asked. She said it in such a way—such a Mae way—that Toni came closer than she had yet to the complete breakdown that was waiting for its chance to come upon her. Perilously close, so close she could already feel the tears welling up behind her eyes and threatening to erupt.

  She closed her eyes for a second and said her mantra silently—nomoretears. Then she opened them again and coaxed her lips into a reasonable facsimile of a smile.

  “I’ve just had a long day of travel,” she said. “I’ll be right as rain by dinnertime.”

  Mae waited for one long moment to see if Toni would offer up any other tells before she nodded and turned off the ignition. “Of course,” she smiled. “I’d expect nothing less of you.”

  The two women got out of the car, retrieved Toni’s bag from the trunk, and made their way inside. It smelled like vanilla and rose candles in the house, which Toni knew was because Mae had somewhat of an addiction to a particular brand of them, handcrafted by a local artisan. It was a warm, welcoming smell, and she took the chance to pause in the entryway and relish in it.

  Toni gently plucked her luggage out of Mae’s grasp. “Upstairs, second door on the left, right?”

  “You got it,” Mae said with another trademark wink. “I’ll make sure the kids are quiet when they come home. First one to utter a peep is getting sold for parts.”

  Toni laughed as she turned and mounted the sta
irs while Mae went into the kitchen. She heard the burner click on, but when she slipped into her bedroom for the weekend and closed the door, that sound faded away. All that was left was the distant ocean roar and the comfortable sighs of an old house settling deeper and deeper into its foundation.

  She set her bag down by the bureau, took off her shoes, and laid down. She knew she ought to change clothes, air travel being somewhat of a haven for germs. But she was so tired suddenly that she could barely keep her eyes open.

  “Just thirty seconds,” she said out loud to the empty room. “Then I’ll get up and change for my nap.”

  She was out before her head hit the pillow.

  Toni woke up to someone’s face filling her entire field of vision.

  She had to stifle a terrified shriek before she realized that it was just her nephew Brent, who’d clambered onto the bed and was trying to touch his nose to hers.

  “Brent, honey! You scared the daylights out of me,” she said.

  Mae came rushing in a moment later, brandishing a wooden spoon like a battle ax. “Brent Evan Benson!” she yelled. “What did I tell you about letting Aunt Toni sleep?”

  He started to stammer something and looked like he was on the verge of tears. Toni interceded. “It’s okay,” she said. She swept the four-year-old up into her arms and planted a kiss on top of his blond head. “Aunt Toni had a good nap, and she wanted to see you anyway.”

  “I’m sorry, Toni,” Mae said. She sighed and let the spoon fall by her side. Everyone in the house knew that Mae didn’t have the heart to ever actually use the thing, but that didn’t stop her from charging into the middle of Benson child mayhem like an armed Viking if the furor ever got too loud.

  “No, no, really, it’s okay. I oughta be getting up anyhow. What time is it?”

  “Just shy of five o’clock,” Mae said. She turned to leave the room before stopping to add, “Oh, I invited Lola and Debra over for dinner as well! I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Of course not!” Toni said. “It’ll be good to see those old hens.”

  Mae laughed. “Make sure you say that to their faces,” she said. “They’ll have some choice words to say back, I’m sure. I’ve gotta go check on the lobster. Do you mind?”

  “Go do your thing, hon. Can I help with anything?”

  “Not a chance!”

  “Aunt Toni,” Brent said cheerily once his mother had retreated back downstairs, “can we read a book?”

  Toni grinned. “Nothing in the whole wide world would make me happier. Why don’t you go pick one out, and I’ll meet you on the porch? We can sit in the rocking chair and read together. How’s that sound?”

  Brent wheeee’d his way out of the room in a blaze, leaving Toni chuckling in his wake. She groaned and kept working out the kinks in her neck as she sat upright. The airplane seat really had done a number on her muscles, though it had helped somewhat to nap for as long as she did.

  She changed quickly into a pair of comfortable jeans and a white cotton T-shirt. Then she padded downstairs.

  The lower floor was rich with the aroma of butter and stock. Toni was sorely tempted to go peek into the kitchen to see what Mae was whipping up, but Brent was waiting by the front door already, book in hand and shifting excitedly from foot to foot. He looked like he might erupt if she denied him their promised book time for even a second longer.

  So she went over to him, opened the door, and they went out onto the porch. “Up you come!” she cooed as she hefted the boy into her lap. “Let’s see what we have here—oo, The Hungry Hungry Caterpillar. Good choice.”

  They cracked open the book together and started to read. Brent insisted on turning the pages and calling out the names of all the animals he recognized in the illustrations, so it took them a while to get through it. But Toni didn’t mind. She had her nephew on her lap, a house brimming with good food around her, and in the distance, the Nantucket summer sun looked like it was veering closer and closer towards retiring for the day.

  Soon enough, two familiar figures came wheeling their bikes up the driveway. “Look who it is!” Toni whispered in Brent’s ear. “Why don’t you go surprise Miss Lola and Miss Debra with big hugs?”

  Brent, ever willing to be involved in a secret scheme, agreed with a fervent nod. He popped down from Toni’s lap and went racing off towards the two women.

  “Hi, Toni!” they called out once Brent’s hugs had been received and he’d run off, distracted by a soccer ball left in the front yard. They stepped onto the porch and gave her each a kiss on the cheek.

  “In town for the Fourth?” Lola asked.

  “Mhmm,” confirmed Toni.

  “Did you manage to get rid of your husband, too? Or is he lurking within?”

  Debra was only joking, but Toni winced anyway. She pretended to reach up a hand and rub at her neck, hoping that it would serve as sufficient distraction to play off the sudden pang in her heart at the reminder of Jared. She’d actually managed to go a few hours without thinking of him, miracle of miracles. But Debra’s jest had brought him right back to the forefront of her mind.

  “Something like that,” she said lamely. “Mae’s inside. Should we go in?”

  Lola and Debra nodded. It didn’t seem like they’d noticed anything out of the ordinary, for which Toni was grateful. She called out to Brent, who joined them as they all went back into the house.

  A little while later, they were all seated in the dining room and ready to eat. The table was practically groaning with the ungodly amount of food Mae had prepared.

  “My goodness,” Lola exclaimed, “did you think you were feeding an army?”

  “Just you wait,” Mae replied knowingly. “These children look innocent, but they’re a pack of hyenas when it comes to dinnertime.”

  Eliza rolled her eyes, and Holly and Sara followed suit immediately.

  “You girls look gorgeous,” Toni said quietly. “You’re all growing up so fast.”

  She knew that it was a bit of a cheesy thing to say, and certainly not the kind of thing that sixteen-, thirteen-, or eleven-year-old girls could care about hearing from their aunt. But she just couldn’t help herself.

  Mae said a quick grace before pointing out the dishes to identify them. “We’ve got lobster chowder and baked cod, both of which Mr. Dave from the fish shop caught himself this morning. The scallops, too. Corn on the cob and coleslaw, as well as pasta salad—I made a side dish for you with no tomatoes, Sara—and string beans. Toni, ladies, please help yourselves to as much wine as you can possibly drink. And you, Mr. Brent, young sir, had better finish all of your chicken nuggets if you want to have any chance of getting some of the rum raisin ice cream that Miss Debra was kind enough to bring. Is that all? I think that’s all. Let’s eat!”

  They dug in gratefully. Everybody except for Toni that is. As everyone else around the table began ladling out chowder and vegetables onto their dishes, she sat back for a moment with an irrepressible smile on her face.

  It was a beautiful sight to see, to feel, to partake in. This was a happy house, and even if Henry’s absence was noted, it still felt so bursting at the seams with pure joy that it was impossible not to grin from ear to ear.

  So what if she was running from sorrow she never expected or asked for? So what if her heart throbbed painfully whenever the merest thought of Jared crossed her mind (and almost all of her thoughts led to Jared, one way or another, just as all roads lead to Rome)?

  So what, so what, so what?

  She had to be happy here, and she was grateful that the choice between happiness and misery had been taken right out of her hands because there was no telling which way she might lean if she’d had to pick between the two on her own.

  She had to be happy here. After all, this was home.

  10

  Buenos Aires, Argentina—June 2, 2018

  Toni feels like she has been sleepwalking for the last seven days.

  After their date, Nicolas walked her back to her hotel. He stop
ped outside of the door to face her. She watched him with bated breath, feeling like she was on the precipice of something foreign and terrifying and exciting all at once. It was how she imagined skydiving would be—knowing that she was about to jump out of a perfectly good plane, one that had gotten her this far problem-free, and questioning whether she was stark-raving mad for considering the leap at all.

  She wondered if he was going to try to kiss her. She wondered also if she would let him.

  In the end, it didn’t matter, because he didn’t try. He merely squeezed her hand, nodded once—crisply, as if they were settling a business transaction—and took off into the night.

  She caught just a glimpse of his eyes before he was gone. They were stormy with emotions she could not and still cannot decipher, no matter how many times she’s thought of them in the days and nights since.

  The odd departure has left her unsettled. She knows this makes no sense at all, but it feels as if the entire country changed shape when she wasn’t looking. The buildings, the people, the food—they look different, sound different, taste different. She can’t put her finger on what exactly has changed; all she knows is that something has very definitely shifted beneath her feet.

  The things that have been bringing her pleasure in the two months of this experience—reading books in cafés, strolling through the city’s many parks—now make her irritable and impatient. And things that she would’ve walked right past not so long ago now captivate her completely. She darn near cried the other day when she caught sight of a rainbow refracted in an oil slick on an empty cobblestone side street in Palermo. It seemed like such a fragile and temporary beauty. If she didn’t stop and look at it, who would?

  She knows of course that all these things point back to Nicolas, even if she refuses to acknowledge that during her waking hours. That date was the moment everything changed. Not just the date—the moment when his fingers lifted her chin, and he looked into her eyes and told her that she wasn’t defined by what she had lost.