From Willa, With Love

by Coleen Murtagh Paratore

  When Sam and I go inside, I set off to find Will. I’m excited to tell him about my ideas to put journals in the rooms and to leave free books for tourists to find.

  I ask around, but no one has seen him. Finally, Darryl, our night desk manager, says, “He left early this morning, Willa. He said to tell you he heard a relative was on Cape, and he was headed up to Yarmouth to find him.”

  My heart sinks. I groan. Oh, no, Will, not another goose chase. I wish there was some way I could stop him, to prevent him from having more disappointment and pain. Our birthfather is dead. It’s sad, but true. Why can’t Will accept that?

  Up in my room, I lie down on my bed and begin reading Make Lemonade:

  “I am telling you this just the way it went with all the details I remember as they were, and including the parts I’m not sure about.”

  Hmm … I love the main character, LaVaughn.

  It’s like she’s right here talking to me.

  So much to write in my journal. About how worried I am about Will. How excited I am for Mrs. S. and Dr. Swammy. How can I make their wedding perfect? Top-shelf without being top dollar? Ideas start to flow and I grab a yellow tablet to catch them quick.

  CHAPTER 14

  Poppy Marketplace

  Books … are like lobster shells. We surround ourselves with ‘em, then we grow out of ‘em and leave ‘em behind, as evidence of our earlier stages of development.

  — Dorothy Sayers

  I was right. It wasn’t Billy Havisham. I feel so bad for Will. I start asking him a bunch of questions, but he says, “Just drop it, okay?” so I do.

  I check my phone. No message from JFK. I could text him, but I need to get ready for the concert. I feel a jolt of excitement when I think about Jess. What is wrong with me? JFK … Jess … JFK … Jess … I feel so confused.

  I shower, then dry my hair, brushing one side down straight and putting some gel on the other side to crunch up soft curls—”the Willa” style Ruby designed for me. The one and only time Ruby and I felt like friends. That girl and I just do not connect.

  My new pink outfit looks good. I put on some makeup and perfume. I look at JFK’s picture on my dresser.

  Where are you right now? Why haven’t you called me? Are you at the club with Lorna right now? I stare at my face in the mirror. I think about Jess, his laid-back manner, his beautiful brown eyes and quiet laugh … how nice he is … how he seems so really into me.

  I put on my favorite silver earrings. I don’t wear the silver locket.

  It’s about six o’clock when Will and I get to the grouping of gray clapboard buildings with crushed shell pathways called “Popponesset Marketplace.” There’s the old familiar blackboard with CONCERT TONITE, 7-9 P.M. printed in bright yellow chalk.

  When I was little and came each summer to visit Nana in Bramble, she would bring me here for the free concerts on summer weekend nights. She’d spoil me rotten at Carol’s Toy Store and then we’d check out the tourist shops, get cones from Ben & Jerry’s, and listen to the band. Sometimes Nana would dance with me.

  There’s the candy store, Country Store, the art gallery, pizza and smoothies places, and, of course, Bobby’s Raw Bar, packed with customers. Sometimes Mom and Sam and I come here to the dining area out behind Bobby’s Raw Bar for the hands-down best lobsta’ roll on Cape. That lobsta’ roll is legendary—huge and fresh. “A feast for a king,” Sam says. They serve great chowda’, too. Ahhh …

  In case you haven’t noticed, we drop “er” to “a” when we’re talking about the seafood we love so much around here…. Say “lobtsa’” and “chowda’” and you might pass for a local and not a tourist…. Not that we don’t love tourists … we do!

  Several friends from school are already playing mini-golf. I introduce Will to Greta and Carli, who are also just arriving, and the four of us team up for a game.

  I hear an unmistakable laugh and then a copycat one and I look over across the pathway to the back nine and, sure enough, there are Ruby and Tina. They are flirting with two older guys, college-aged; my guess would be lifeguards they met conducting research for their “book.”

  Tina spots us and nudges Ruby and they both wave and shout, “Hey, Will!”

  How about “Hey, Willa”? What am I, invisible?

  Will smiles and waves back. “Tina’s cute,” he says.

  “You like her?” I ask.

  “She’s pretty,” he says. “And fun. But that other one …”

  “Ruby?”

  “Right. Ruby. She’s cute, too, but way too much of a headache.”

  I laugh. “Remember. If you get cornered by Ruby, mention the duke’s daughter.”

  “What? Oh, oh, right. The duke’s daughter.”

  “Come on,” I say, “I don’t want them to think I was lying.”

  “No worries, sister,” he says, laughing. “I’ve got your back.”

  “I’ve got your back?” I smile. “Since when did you start sounding so American?”

  “Since I’ve got American family,” he says.

  When we finish playing golf, we walk to the pizza place and order slices. I hear the sound of a guitar and someone on a mike: “check, check.” My heart jumps.

  Luke and Jess.

  “Those your friends?” Will asks.

  “Yep.”

  “They better do justice to my homeboys,” Will says, and I crack up laughing.

  “Homeboys?”

  “You know, John … Paul … Ringo,” he says.

  “Yes,” I say, laughing. “The Beatles, I got it.”

  We take our pizza out into the crowded courtyard and nudge our way to sit on top of a picnic table next to a family with three little blond-haired boys, all wearing matching blue polo shirts. The place is buzzing with people of all ages, eating dinner, talking, laughing, suntanned and relaxed in sundresses, shorts, and colorful T-shirts…. Fathers dashing after giggling runaway toddlers … mothers wiping dribbles from chins … grandparents doling out dollars for treats … kids wearing glow-in-the-dark necklaces with a cone in one hand and a brown bag filled with candy in the other.

  This is Poppy Marketplace. Cape Cod at its finest.

  There’s background radio music playing in advance of the Buoy Boys, and already a slew of toddlers are up on the dance floor, little butts out, heads bopping, dancing around like a bunch of ducks. Some young mothers are holding their babies, swaying back and forth. An adorable little boy with blue and white striped pants and a matching baseball cap bends down and scoops up some crushed shells in his hands and throws them at his mother. Giggling, he runs off fast as a bandit, she running fast behind.

  When I see Jess sit down at the drums, a fluttery feeling runs all through me. I try not to watch him, but he looks so … so … like a hot drummer in a rock band, which, of course, he is. Way cuter than those pictures of Ringo Starr.

  Tina and Ruby make their way toward us and find spots on the bench seat.

  “He’s so cute, isn’t he, Willa?” Carli says, noticing me noticing Jess.

  “Who?” I say, taking a bite of my pizza.

  “Jess, duh. You’re staring at him.”

  My face reddens. I take another bite of pizza.

  Tina is staring at me. She heard Carli asking me about Jessie. I try to avoid her glare, but Tina is relentless. She walks to me, staring, staring, until her face is just inches from mine.

  “What?” I say, finally give in.

  “Come here,” she says, grabbing my hand and dragging me around the side of the building by the restrooms, out of earshot from our friends. “You like him, don’t you?” she says, eyes big as Bambi’s.

  “Who?”

  “Oh, spare me, Willa…. Jess, of course.”

  “No,” I say weakly.

  “Look at you,” Tina says. “Your face turned red as a fire engine as soon as Carli mentioned Jessie’s name.”

  “I’m sunburned,” I say.

  Tina smiles, clearly loving this. She squints her eyes and checks
me out from head to toe. “Look at how nicely you did your hair and makeup, too. You? Makeup? And check out the new pink outfit and sneakers—they’re really cute by the way—where’d you buy them?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “No big deal. So what, I went shopping.”

  “You, shopping? Come on, Willa. It’s me, Tina … remember? You never go shopping. You hate to shop.” She flings her blond hair over her shoulder, case closed.

  It’s me, Tina, remember? I remember. You were my best friend. You knew me better than anyone. How did we drift so far …

  “Oh, my gosh,” Tina shrieks. She’s staring at my throat. She reaches to check around my neck. “Where’s JFK’s locket?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t always wear it.”

  “Yes, you do, Willa. You always do!”

  The Buoy Boys’ first Beatles number, “Love Me Do,” cuts loudly through the night air. All of a sudden, I feel horrible. I know perfectly well that I’m not wearing JFK’s locket. I love him, but I can’t stop thinking about Jess, too. I bite my lip to keep from crying.

  “Willa, honey, it’s okay,” Tina says sweetly, just like our BFF days. She pats her hand on my back and smiles. “So what, you like Jess. Good for you. It’s not like you’re married to Joey. It’s summertime. Have some fun.

  Don’t worry about it. You worry so much you’re going to grow worrywarts all over that pretty face and …”

  I start to laugh. I hug her. “Please don’t say anything.”

  She puts her fingers to her lips, motioning that she’s zipping them. She reaches out her perfectly manicured fingers to fix a stray strand of my hair. “Your hair’s looking really good, by the way. I like it long.”

  We smile at each other. Good old Tina. I miss her. I miss hearing how she sees the world. We used to tell each other everything, especially when it came to liking boys. I remember back when we used to spy on my mother’s weddings, even with binoculars sometimes, scouting out the cutest guys at the receptions. We had fun together. I miss all the fun we had.

  “Lighten up, Willa,” Tina says. “It’s good to date other guys. Joey’s the one and only boy you’ve ever even kissed.”

  “I know, but I feel like I’m betraying him.”

  “Who knows what he’s doing in Florida all summer,” Tina says. “You aren’t married. You’re only fifteen.”

  “Fourteen and a half,” I correct her.

  “I know, I know,” Tina says, rolling her eyes. “I always like to round up.”

  I giggle. “How old have you been telling those college lifeguards you are?”

  “Eighteen,” she says, and we laugh.

  “Well, you could certainly pass for it,” I say.

  “Thanks, Willa,” Tina says, reaching into her pocket for lip gloss. “And I mean it. Don’t make this into a big deal. Yeah, you’ve got Joey’s locket, but it’s not a diamond ring. We’re in high school, Willa. We’re supposed to date different people. How else will you know if you’ve found ‘the one’ if you’ve only ever dated one?”

  Tina is making surprisingly good sense. But even though I haven’t even gone on a date with Jess, it still feels like I’m cheating on JFK.

  I nod my head. “Thanks, Tina.”

  “Anytime,” she says. “Oh, and … I like your brother. Really, really. I know Ruby does, too, but …”

  “He likes you, too,” I say.

  “Truly?” Tina says.

  “That’s what he said.”

  Tina hugs me. “Let’s go, then, silly. We’ve got cute boys waiting on us.”

  Another song starts up. “I Want to Hold Your Hand.”

  “That’s got a good beat,” Tina says, yanking my hand to hurry me along. “Come on, Willa. Let’s show those babies how to dance and get this party started.”

  CHAPTER 15

  The After-Beatles Beach Party

  There is more treasure in books than in all the pirates’ loot on Treasure Island … and best of all, you can enjoy these riches every day of your life.

  — Walt Disney

  All the while I’m dancing to Beatles tunes with Tina and the toddlers and my friends, I keep stealing looks at Jess. He makes a very good Beatle. He looks so cute in that simple white tee and cutoff jean shorts, that leather rope choker around his neck. Every time his eyes meet mine, I feel a flutter of butterflies inside.

  They play a slower set: “Hey Jude” … “Eleanor Rigby” … “Yesterday” … and then the beautiful song “In My Life,” one of the most popular “first dance” numbers for the bride and groom at weddings. It’s about how you might know and love a lot of people in your life, but out of all of them, you love your sweetheart more. Isn’t that so romantic?

  The Bouys are a huge hit with the entire Poppy Market crowd … or maybe it’s just because everybody likes the Beatles. Old people, young people, we all know the songs.

  A lady takes the microphone and announces that this is a benefit concert for the victims of the earthquake in Haiti. She directs people toward two tables where volunteers are accepting donations and urges us to “be as generous as possible.”

  She turns and nods, smiling at Jess and Luke. “And please note that these two talented young men from Bramble Academy have very kindly donated their time here, directing the payment they would have received toward supporting tonight’s cause.”

  There is a spontaneous applause. Luke takes a flashy, funny, dramatic bow. Jess seems embarrassed by the praise, hunkering down out of the limelight. Finally, he nods his head and waves a drumstick briefly to acknowledge the audience.

  He’s modest. I like that.

  Tina looks at me and winks and then redirects her attention back to my brother. Toward the end of the last set, many of the families with young children mill off toward home and the dance floor is clearer for the rest of us. When the Buoys play “Paperback Writer” I check Jess’s eye and he nods at me.

  Is he playing that because he knows I want to be a writer?

  I look at him again and he smiles.

  Will and Tina are sitting on top of a picnic table talking. Will says something and Tina throws her head back, laughing. Will looks happy. I am happy for him. He’s fitting in so nicely with my group of friends. No surprise. He is, after all, a really great guy.

  Ruby is over in front of the art gallery talking with an older dude, definitely a lifeguard. Every once in a while I see her checking out Will and Tina, but it’s clear to all that Will and Tina are hitting it off, big-time, and Ruby is respecting that. Ruby is never one to let another girl stand in her way of a boy, but Tina is Ruby’s best friend after all. I feel a pang of jealousy. I think about Mariel in Manhattan. I wish that she were here. But then again, I felt so close to Tina earlier tonight … just like old times.

  Can a girl have more than one best friend?

  Tina bursts out laughing. Will is waving his hands in the air, reenacting some funny story or other, and Tina is glowing in his company. They seem so good together. Wow … what if Tina and Will become a couple and stay together? Tina might just be my sister-in-law one day!

  Reason: Enough, Willa, enough, you’re getting way ahead of yourself.

  Willa: I know, I know, but it could happen.

  The Buoys finish playing at nine with a really sweet version of “Let It Be,” Luke smooth on the vocals, Jess’s eyes closed, head swaying back and forth as if he’s feeling the words of the song. There is something about that boy, something so …

  “Are you coming to the beach?” Carli asks me. “A bunch of us are going.” She looks at Jess and smiles. I think Carli has a crush on him, too. “It’s an after-Beatles beach party,” she says.

  The pizza shop is closing. The lady in the clothing store turns her sign to read OPEN AT 10 A.M. I look over at Jess breaking down their sound system.

  “Sure,” I say, “I’m in. I’ll meet you there.”

  My pink sneakers lead me across the crushed gray and white shells to Jess. He’s leaning over, unplugging wires. “Great conc
ert,” I say.

  “Willa,” he says. “Hey. I didn’t think you were coming tonight.”

  “Coming to the beach, Jess and Willa?” Tina shouts this as she and Will pass by, too focused on each other to stop and wait for an answer.

  Thank goodness it’s dark so Jess can’t see me blushing.

  “You going?” he asks me in that dreamy low voice.

  I look at him, blue eyes to brown, and I have no other answer but yes.

  Luke’s father arrives with his SUV to take the equipment home.

  “Keep my drums till tomorrow?” Jess asks Luke.

  “Sure, dude,” Luke says. “Later.”

  “Oh, boys … I’m glad you’re still here,” says the lady who runs the Marketplace. “We tabulated the checks and cash and credit card donations and it is just astounding, the generosity of Poppy patrons. We raised more than three thousand dollars this evening.”

  “Good people,” Jess says.

  “Good band,” I say.

  Jess smiles at me. He looks down at my sneakers, notices my new outfit.

  “You look pretty in pink,” he says.

  Jess and I walk across the road, across the parking lot, through the grounds of the Popponesset Inn toward the beach where our friends are. We don’t talk, but there’s something screaming between us. We pass by the tent where there’s a wedding reception going on. I think briefly how tomorrow is my mother’s debut-return to her “braviar days.”

  At the top of the beach stairs, the night breeze hits my face.

  There’s our crowd over there to the right. They have built a bonfire. Somebody brought music. That looks like Will and Tina standing down by the water’s edge, and that is unmistakably Ruby sitting up on that lifeguard throne, queen of everything.

  I steal a side-glance at Jess in the moonlight. I smell cologne and sweat and the sea. He looks wild and distant and dreamy, like Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights.