by Nancy Thayer
“Why not?” Shirley countered. She turned to Marilyn. “Sorry, Mare, I interrupted you. How do you like Nantucket?”
Marilyn beamed. “It’s a scientist’s paradise! There are wildflower tours and marine ecology seminars, birding field trips, not to mention the Maria Mitchell Museum.”
“Who’s she?” Polly asked.
“Maria Mitchell discovered a new comet in 1847. She was Vassar’s first professor of astronomy. The science museum here is named after her.”
“Still,” Faye pressed, “you seem preoccupied.”
Marilyn sighed. “Just worried about everyone back home.”
“Well, phone them,” Alice said sensibly.
“I did, before we came out. It took Mother forever to find her cell phone—she’d lost it in her knitting basket. Ian said he’s going to share a pizza with Angus tonight. I just don’t want Ian to feel I’m deserting him because his son came to live with us, and I certainly don’t want my mother to think I’m running away from her.”
“I have an idea,” Shirley said. “Why don’t you bring Ian and Angus and your mother down here for a visit this summer. I don’t mean all together. At different times.”
Marilyn nodded. “That will help.”
But Faye shook her head. “Marilyn. Look at your hands.”
Dutifully, Marilyn held out her hands. Jewelry didn’t interest her, so she wore only the pretty diamond solitaire engagement ring Ian had given her.
“Turn them over,” Faye ordered.
Marilyn obeyed. The scrapes on her palms from her morning’s fall were an angry red.
Faye gently cupped Marilyn’s hands in hers. “Only this morning, you fell on your face because you were hurrying. I’ve been doing the same sort of thing. We’re all so busy with our lives at home. I think Nantucket should be just for us, a get-away-from-it-all vacation spot. At least for a while.”
“I agree!” Alice looked around the table. “Plus, if we’ve made it a rule that there’s no dieting on Nantucket, let’s make another rule: no worrying on Nantucket. We’re here for pleasure, ladies. We’re damned lucky that Nora Salter’s letting us have her house for three whole months—do you have any idea what kind of rent someone could get for that here? We couldn’t afford it. This is an unbelievable luxury, and I think Fate would be absolutely offended if we didn’t enjoy ourselves.”
Shirley raised her glass of sparkling water. “I’ll drink to that!”
The others raised their glasses, too.
After dinner, they walked around town, pausing to gaze in the shop windows, wandering down to the waterfront to watch a ferry pull in. Strolling back through town, they passed the Dreamland Theatre.
“The Film Festival will be showing some of its movies here next week,” Alice said.
“Cool.” Polly drew her shawl around her against the cold sea breeze. “Wasn’t there a movie set on Nantucket?”
Faye nodded. “Um, yes, I remember…what was it called?”
“Oh, I know!” Shirley wrinkled her forehead in thought. “What’s his name was in it.”
Faye looked intently at Shirley, as if their joint brains could connect and conjure up the information. “The lead actor had dark hair. Was it George Clooney?”
“No! It was…” Polly tapped her lip. “Was it Ben Affleck?”
“No, no, someone older.”
“Was it Denzel Washington?” Alice asked.
“No,” Faye shook her head. “Let’s walk, maybe movement will kick my brain into gear. It was…Peter! Peter someone!”
“Peter Sellers?” Alice offered.
“Peter Ustinov?” Shirley suggested.
“No, no,” Faye said. “Peter, Peter…”
“Peter O’Toole!” Marilyn yelled.
“No, that’s not right—Peter Gallagher!” Polly cried, clapping her hands in triumph.
“Right!” Faye gave Polly a high five. “And Michelle Pfeiffer.”
“Except she wasn’t really in it,” Polly continued, as the memory returned, “because she was the wife who died in the beginning. On a boat, right?”
“Right,” Faye agreed. “And doesn’t the husband see a ghost on the beach—”
“That’s enough!” Alice interrupted. “No talking about ghosts before bedtime.”
The rising wind drove them back to the house. Except for the occasional restaurant, the town was shut down for the night. Street lamps illuminated the empty sidewalks. The businesses and shops were closed. One lonely truck rattled over the cobblestones and off into the darkness.
“Kind of dead here,” Alice observed, drawing her jacket tight around her neck.
“Not in the summer,” Faye told her. “I’ve been here in July. There are street musicians, and the shops are open, and the streets are crowded.”
“Hope so.” Alice shivered. “It’s too quiet for me.”
“We’re supposed to enjoy the quiet,” Shirley reminded her.
They’d left a lamp burning in the window, and as they stepped into the Orange Street house, they felt their spirits lift. The old house, in spite of its roominess, was cozy and welcoming.
“Anyone want a nightcap?” Faye asked. “I brought some Baileys Irish Cream.”
“You’re wicked!” Polly laughed. “But guess what? I brought some, too!”
“Pajama party!” Shirley cried.
“I’ll join you in a minute,” Marilyn told them. “I’ve got to phone Ian and Ruth.”
“I’ve got to phone Gideon,” Alice said.
“I’ve got to phone Aubrey,” Faye said.
“I don’t have to phone Hugh,” Polly said wistfully, “but maybe I will, anyway.”
I could phone Stan, Shirley thought, but I don’t want to. “I’m going to make myself some chamomile tea. I’ll meet you all in the front parlor.”
She was curled up on the sofa with a mug on the table next to her and a gorgeous glossy photography book about Nantucket in her lap when the others came down.
“Let’s light a fire,” Faye suggested. “I’m freezing.”
“Do the fireplaces work?” Polly asked nervously.
“I’m not sure.” Shirley grabbed a pad and pen lying on the table. “I’ll add that to my list of things to ask Nora.”
“Surely we won’t need a fire in the summer,” Alice said.
“You never know,” Faye told her. “This island gets lots of wind and fog.”
“Well, for tonight, how about turning on the furnace?” Alice suggested.
Shirley flipped through her notes. “There’s a thermostat—”
“There!” Faye pointed. “By the portrait of the sea captain.”
Alice turned the dial. From deep in the house, the furnace rumbled to life, and in moments warm air wafted into the chilly room.
“That’s more like it.” Alice plunked down into a wing chair and lifted her legs, resting her feet on the coffee table. “Aaah.” She yawned. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”
“It’s the sea air,” Faye told her. “You’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”
Polly came out of the dining room bearing a tray of small crystal glasses. “Ta-da!” She poured the creamy liqueur and handed it around to everyone but Shirley.
“I was just wondering,” Alice remarked lazily, “how much our choice of night wear reveals about our personalities.”
“What a funny thought!” Faye cast her artist’s eye on the others. “Well, Shirley’s sexy little lavender negligee and matching peignoir with ruffled sleeves and neck is exactly what I’d expect her to wear. She’s romantic even when she’s not with a man.”
“You know my motto, Be Prepared!” Shirley joked, tossing her red curls playfully.
“And Alice, as always, looks like royalty,” Polly observed.
Alice wore gold and scarlet paisley silk pajamas cut Oriental fashion, with frogs on the asymmetrical closings and a neat Mandarin collar. “Thank you, thank you.” She gave them a mock royal wave, Queen Elizabeth style.
“And Faye looks like an artist,” Polly said, admiring Faye’s yellow silk nightgown and turquoise kimono splashed with flowers and birds. “While I”—with a rueful grin, she held out the cuff of her light fleece robe, which she wore over a heavy cotton nightgown.
Alice searched for a compliment. “You look the most comfortable.”
“I thought it might be cold here,” Polly explained. “I’ve read that because the sea is still cold, the island takes longer than the mainland to warm up.”
“Very sensible,” Faye said.
Polly sighed. “Sensible.”
“Marilyn wins the prize for sensible!” Alice said.
They all focused on Marilyn, who wore faded, old, mismatched sweat pants and sweatshirt.
“They’re cozy!” Marilyn protested.
“Do you wear those with Ian?” Faye asked gently.
“Of course.” Marilyn looked puzzled. “Why not?”
The other four laughed.
“So much for our ideas about what’s sexy,” Polly said.
“Well, I’m sure the right clothes make us feel sexier,” Alice said.
Faye had her head cocked. “I’m thinking. Marilyn, what you’re wearing now isn’t much different from what you wore in the day. And I’ll bet you don’t have any saucy little summer numbers to wear on the island.”
“Shopping spree!” Alice and Shirley yelled simultaneously.
“I’ll drink to that!” Faye raised her glass.
Around midnight they agreed it was time for bed. They carried their glasses into the kitchen, setting them in the sink for a morning washup. They double-checked that both front and back doors were locked. They took turns using the bathrooms, called good night, then sank down into their various beds.
They fell asleep at once, exhausted by the long day and the fresh salt air, and if anything woke them in the night—a noise, a drift of air, a shifting shadow—they simply snuggled more deeply into their pillows, sinking back into their dreams.
12
Everyone rose early, except for Alice, whose snores from the front bedroom sounded like the purring of a large cat. Shirley went into the front parlor to do yoga. Faye and Polly set off for the Nantucket Bake Shop to buy croissants and bagels and sweet rolls, and Marilyn went in the other direction, down to the Grand Union to buy milk, sugar, coffee, and juice. The four were gathered in the dining room, just finishing their breakfasts, when Alice padded barefoot into the room, rubbing her eyes.
“I can’t believe I slept so late!” She collapsed in a chair.
“Coffee?” Shirley poured a cup and handed it to Alice. “We’re planning our day. It’s gorgeous out there, sunny and warm.”
“I want to walk around town some more,” Faye said. “The yards are all like little jewel boxes bordered with white picket fences.”
“Daffodils everywhere,” Polly added.
“Flowering magnolia,” Marilyn said.
Shirley wasn’t impressed. “We can see those things at home. I think we should go to the beach. I walked down by the town pier yesterday and it was just heavenly.”
“Okay, then! Let’s do it all!” Faye started gathering up her breakfast things. “We don’t have to leave until this evening.”
“Hang on,” Alice grumbled. “I haven’t finished my coffee.”
“And I haven’t finished my croissant,” Polly added. “Alice, try the beach plum jam. It’s amazing.”
As she spread the jam on her roll, Alice looked around the dining room. “What a lot of antiques Nora Salter’s got in this house.”
Marilyn agreed. “I don’t know how she’s able to notice that anything’s gone missing, there’s so much here.”
“The scrimshaw alone must be worth a fortune,” Polly said. Seeing Alice’s raised eyebrow, she pointed to a box on the mantel. “Scrimshaw is ivory with designs etched and inked into it. Original scrimshaw was made of whale’s teeth, but now that whales are no longer hunted, people use ecologically approved resin imitations. It’s a fascinating, painstaking process.”
“What do you think of Nora’s paintings?” Shirley asked Faye, nodding toward the landscapes above the sideboard.
“I haven’t studied them all closely,” Faye told her, “but some of them are by fairly well-known artists. Pretty valuable, I’d say. Not to mention the china. Look at the corner cabinet. Spode.”
Polly went over to study the collection. “There’s a salt shaker here, but no pepper.”
“Maybe that’s one of the things that’s gone missing,” Shirley said. “I’m going to have keys made, one for each of us, but we’ve got to be supercareful about keeping this place locked up.”
Faye stretched. “I can’t wait any more! The sun’s too inviting. Alice, why don’t we meet you somewhere—down by the Steamboat Wharf, in about thirty minutes?”
Alice, mouth full of bread and jam, nodded.
“I’ll wait and go with Alice,” Shirley decided. “You all go ahead. I’ll do the dishes.” When the others hesitated, she made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go on!”
Marilyn, Faye, and Polly hurried off. Alice finished her breakfast, then offered to help Shirley wash up, but Shirley, singing as she bustled around the kitchen, told her to get dressed, she had everything under control.
In her tidy little bedroom at the front of the house, Alice pulled on her slacks, sweater, and handsome Italian loafers. She appreciated the Quaker simplicity of the room, but decided she’d bring down a few of her own things to make it less stark. She lifted her watch off the embroidered runner on the dresser and slipped it onto her wrist, and then reached for her turquoise and silver earrings. She stopped, staring in confusion, at the lone earring lying on the cloth. Thinking she must have dropped an earring as she prepared for bed, she knelt on the floor, searching, and found nothing. When she rose, her eye fell on the bedside table. The other earring was lying there, next to her travel alarm clock. Now why would she do that, put one earring on the bureau and one on the bedside table? Help! She was truly getting senile! For a moment she stood paralyzed, trying to remember the night before.
Oh, chill out, Alice, she told herself. It’s simply a case of too many nightcaps. Snatching up the earring, she put it on, grabbed her leather jacket and cap, and left the room.
When they all met up at Steamboat Wharf, Marilyn announced that she’d plotted the route and would be the trailblazer, so the others were free to goggle and gawk at the beautiful hotels and houses as they walked along South Water Street and Hulbert Avenue. At Brant Point, they paused to catch their breath and inspect the lighthouse.
“This is the second oldest lighthouse in the country, established in 1746,” Marilyn read from the guidebook.
“I’m more interested in the Coast Guard Station,” Shirley joked. “You know how I love men in uniform.”
“I prefer them out of uniform,” Alice quipped.
They watched a few sailboats brave the brisk, chilly winds, then continued on to Jetties Beach.
Here, stiff caramel-colored beach grass waved in the high sand dunes. The tide was in, the dark water lapping at the gray boulders of the Jetties. Toward the west, the beach stretched as empty of humans as a scene from Robinson Crusoe. The gray-shingled concession stand was boarded up, the restrooms locked. The women took turns standing guard while they each went behind the dunes.
Alice came out grumbling as she adjusted her clothing. “The outdoor life is not for me. While I was holding my trousers out of the way, I peed on my hand.”
Shirley laughed. “Rinse it off in the ocean, silly.”
Faye was out on the jetty, arms extended for balance as she stepped from one boulder to another. Polly followed. Marilyn wandered off in the other direction, strolling just at the water’s edge, enthralled by the millions of rosy slipper shells scattered on the sand. Black-green seaweed dotted the beach in twisted bits and pieces like arcane calligraphy, or was tossed down in hunks like discarded rags, or combed through the sand in long curling strands like P
re-Raphaelite hair. These were, Marilyn decided, from the phylum chlorophyta with branched thalli. She saw no horseshoe crabs on this beach, but other shells were plentiful.
Alice stood at the water’s edge, shivering. Except for the cry of the gulls and the slap of waves against the beach, it was quiet. No roar of traffic, no horns and sirens, none of the eternal rumble of city life. Shirley came crunching over the sand to stand next to her.
“I’m bored and my feet are cold!” Alice grumbled.
“Oh, Alice.” Shirley patted her friend’s back. “Don’t be such a spoilsport. This is exercise! It’s good for you!”
“My shoes are filling up with sand,” Alice complained. “The wind’s whipping my hair into my face. If I’m going to exercise, I want to do it in the comfort of a gym or spa.” She glared at Shirley. “Why do you think people love The Haven so much?” Abruptly, she turned, stomped up the boardwalk, and collapsed on the steps of the concession stand. Digging in her purse for her cell phone, she announced, “I’m calling a cab. I’m too beat to walk all the way back.”
“Alice—”
“I’ve walked forty minutes already.”
“We’ve strolled. We’ve dawdled.”
Alice started to argue, then changed her mind. Looping her arm through Shirley’s, she coaxed, “Yes, and now I want to stroll and dawdle around the shops. Want to come?”
Shirley found Alice irresistible when she was charming. Besides, the wind kept blowing her hair into her face. “Okay. Let’s tell the others.”
When they met for a late lunch at the Tap Room, they were all in high spirits.
“I’m ordering a cheeseburger with fries!” Polly cried happily. “I deserve it, after all the walking I did today.”
“You’re a little sunburned,” Faye admonished her. “We’ve got to remember to bring sunblock.”
“It’s probably windburn,” Alice said. “Look what I bought!” She held up her left arm to show off her new turquoise bracelet.
All four women bent to study it.
“Beautiful!” Faye said.
“Look what I found!” Marilyn reached into her pocket and lifted out something white. Holding it in her hand like a butterfly that might fly away, she displayed a delicate shell. “It’s called Angel’s Wings. They’re very brittle. It’s really rare to find one intact like this.”
