Ghosts. Monsters. Bad memories. High school mistakes. All these things lurked on Martha’s Vineyard, hungry for her ultimate collapse. As usual, it had been incredibly easy for Susan to just slip back into the “big picture” of it all. But Christine? She had been the black sheep, the one who hadn’t been after love and had, therefore, ripped herself from one date to another, all of them more monstrous than the previous. And Zach? He had hardly been a blip on her radar. She had been a little tipsy and it had been sunset and what on earth was a sixteen-year-old girl to do, especially one who’d so recently lost her mother? What on earth was a girl like that meant to do except leap into the ether of whatever life could be?
Now, she felt she was paying for all that jumping. She deserved it, probably, too.
Chapter Four
When the ferry finally reached Oak Bluffs, there was a bright flurry of activity. An enormous egg-shell blue sky stretched above, with chatting tourists and music stirring out of every corner, restaurant and rooftop terrace below. Christine collected her suitcases as Zach sauntered down the ramp toward the parking lot. He lent her a sneaky smile, then a wink, both of which stirred Christine’s stomach.
“Jerk,” she muttered under her breath.
“There she is!” The words carried across the salty air and buzzed through her ears. Christine turned quickly to find herself caught up already in Susan’s powerful arms; her chin clamped across her shoulder. Susan performed a few little hops and skips before falling back and beaming at her. Her eyebrows quickly shot lower over her eyes and she moaned, “You look so tired, Christine. Have you slept at all?”
“Of course I haven’t,” Christine returned. She pushed her dark hair behind her left shoulder. “It’s been a really, really long day.”
Susan had been on the island for only a little longer than a month, in total, but already she seemed like a different creature. Although she was still thin, she didn’t look like the depressed criminal lawyer who had just divorced her husband back in Newark. There was a roundness to her cheeks, a pink lightness that seemed to beam out through her skin. Her eyes glowed with excitement and assurance, the way their mother, Anna’s, had. Christine poured herself back into her sister’s arms and whispered, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound like a brat.”
“You only sound like a brat a little bit,” Susan said with a laugh. “And you deserve it. Act like a brat all you need. My daughter, Amanda, never went through any breakups in high school, and I was always so bummed out. I wanted to sit on the couch with her and eat ice cream and cry over rom-coms.”
“You’re in luck,” Christine said with a laugh. “That’s all I want.”
Susan grabbed Christine’s other suitcase and then dropped to a squat to peer in at Felix. “I didn’t know you were bringing a guest!”
“I definitely should have asked. I just couldn’t leave him with Frank. He’s my baby,” Christine explained.
Susan squeezed her wrist. “I get it. He’s family.”
Scott awaited them in his truck. Yet again, Christine marveled at the weight of seeing Susan’s high school lover there in the front seat, his hands extended over the steering wheel and an old Led Zeppelin track buzzing through the speakers. Although Scott had never been Christine’s type back in the day, given he was such a goody-two-shoes and, admittedly, head-over-heels in love with her sister. Christine had always appreciated that he was easy on the eyes and now was no different. Time had been good to Scott. That was for sure.
Christine had never told Susan about Scott’s devolution after Susan had abandoned the island. She had a few strange, flickering memories of Scott drinking himself through age nineteen to twenty, even longer than that, maybe. It was like she’d become a shadow of his previous self, aching with the fact that Susan hadn’t wanted to remain with him. Now, there was no subtle hint of that in his eyes.
“Good to have you back with us, Christine!” He beamed, as Christine slipped into the back seat and Susan arranged herself in the front.
“You know I can’t stay away for too long,” Christine said. A joke that, admittedly, wasn’t so funny at all.
After a strange pause, Susan said, “Well, Lola is back at the house. Scott’s son, unfortunately already had to leave, but it was a pleasure to have him around.”
“Beautiful,” Christine said. She swallowed a lump in her throat. In New York, most of her friends were childless, but here, it seemed everyone had procreated and was overly willing to bring up whatever member of the next generation they had created in everyday conversation.
“He’s a good kid,” Scott chimed in.
“Where does he live?” Christine asked.
“Boston,” Scott explained. “He likes it out here and talked a little bit about living out here for a few months next summer after school gets out. His mom wants nothing to do with the place these days.”
Although Christine longed to say something sarcastic to that, her eyes glowed with longing as they drove slowly through Oak Bluffs, in stops and starts, with tourists milling in and out and the clouds performing a little wispy dance on high. She used the manual crank to bring the window down in the back seat and she closed her eyes, again inhaling the simmering salty air that was mixed with the smells of BBQ, boats, sunscreen, the hazy leftover firework scent that would probably remain in the air a few days more. It was all there.
“Lola is cooking BBQ chicken,” Susan said as they cut into the driveway at the old house. Even since Christine had left a few weeks before, Scott had made adjustments to the exterior that returned it to its former glory. Even the porch swing on the porch that looked out toward the driveway had been lifted up from its rusty fall and now floated to and fro in the breeze.
“Can Lola cook?” Christine asked as she jumped out of the truck.
“I heard that!” Lola called from inside the house. As the windows and doors were covered in screen doors, everyone could hear everyone else, inside or outside, throughout all of late spring, summer, and even early fall.
“We’re actually not sure,” Susan said softly, shaking her head. “She seems confident, though.”
Christine didn’t bother to keep her voice down. “Confidence isn’t everything. It’s just the way Lola’s gone through this life. She’s only gotten away with it this long because we let it happen.”
Lola appeared in the doorway, then, with a spatula in one hand and a massive old apron, which seemed to have belonged to their mother. She swatted the spatula around in a faux-menacing way and then stretched out a wide, generous smile.
“You’re back!” she squealed.
Christine swept across the gravel driveway and stomped up the steps into her younger sister’s arms. Although she loved both of her sisters enormously, she had far more memories with Lola in that house, during the years after Susan had left the island. Lola was more entrenched in Christine’s psyche.
“You still smell like lavender and honey, despite all this BBQ,” Christine said, breaking the hug and blinking into her sister’s beautiful eyes.
“What can I say?” Lola said. “I’m just incredible.”
“There’s that confidence again,” Susan said as she snuck in the screen door behind them. Scott followed, carrying Christine’s suitcases and the cat carrier.
“Who do we have here?” Lola asked, dropping down to peer into the carrier.
“That’s Felix. He’s a brand new resident of Martha’s Vineyard,” Christine said. “He’s probably dying in there.” She dropped next to Lola and unlatched it. Immediately, the little orange rascal leaped into her arms, digging his face into her armpit.
Christine’s heart lurched. His fear of all of this seemed to represent her own.
“Who’s there?” Their father called in from the porch that overlooked the Sound.
“Didn’t you tell him I was coming?” Christine asked Lola, rising up and sweeping a hand across Felix’s soft-as-silk head.
“We did, he just probably—” Lola shrugged, before mouthing, “Fo
rgot.”
Wes appeared inside, letting the screen door slam shut behind him. A small bit of BBQ sauce appeared on his upper lip, and his hand was filled with potato chips.
“What have we here?” he asked with a laugh. She could see the laugh lines that played at the corners of his bright blue eyes.
“Hey, Daddy.” Christine beamed at her father. She stepped forward and gave him a one-armed hug before tugging a napkin from the stack on the counter. As her maternal instincts weren’t entirely full-flung, she kind of blinked at it, unsure if she should be the one to wipe up her father’s lip. Finally, she just handed it to him. “You have some sauce on your lips.”
“Oh, gosh. Serves me right for getting into the snacks before you girls arrived. Christine, my goodness, I didn’t expect you here already! Come out here and tell me. How was the big city?”
Christine made sure to keep Felix inside the house while she joined her father and sisters and Scott on the back porch. Felix snuck his little head up into the window-hole of the door and kept his bright eyes on Christine throughout, but didn’t make a sound. After Lola poured Christine her first glass of wine, Christine made an excuse and set up his litter box in the back closet and pet him an extra few times alone, whispering to him that everything would be all right.
When Christine reentered the back porch, Lola’s own whisper cut out quickly. The very last bit Christine had caught sounded like, “So don’t bring it up, okay? It’s gone under. It’s over.”
Of course. The restaurant.
Their father had to be reminded so as not to mess with Christine’s mood.
When Christine sat back at the table, the conversation shifted to the topic of Scott’s runaway brother, who’d stolen some $40,000 dollars from the Sunrise Cove Inn over the past year or so, along with a great deal from other hotels, inns and tourist destinations across the island. He had been able to do it through the trust he and his freight company, Frampton Freight, had generated over the years; plus, everyone had always known Scott and Chuck Frampton since they were kids. It was outside the bounds of reason to suspect that anyone would ever steal from anyone else on the island.
But of course, Chuck had proven them wrong.
“We got a ping from a potential credit card,” Susan explained, as Lola splayed an enormous tray of glazed BBQ chicken wings across the center of the table. “Up in Maine. But by the time the police officers arrived, there was no sign of him and plus, the old gas station didn’t have any kind of video surveillance, so we can’t really be sure where he went after that.”
“And you haven’t heard from him at all?” Christine asked Scott.
Scott shook his head sadly. “No. He must have had a lot of money off the island somewhere, ready for just this kind of thing. It eats me up inside thinking about it. Especially the fact that I had no clue it was happening.”
“I’ve been going through some of his documents to see if he has any kind of safe house elsewhere,” Susan continued. “No sign of anything near Maine yet, but...”
“You’re such an investigative journalist right now,” Lola said. She swept in between Christine and Wes, across from Susan and Scott, and grabbed two chicken wings from the platter. “On the hunt for your criminal mastermind.”
“I guess it’s true what Amanda always says. I can’t take too much time off,” Susan said. She rubbed her temples and slumped her shoulders forward.
“Plus, with all the work you’re doing at the Inn? You must be exhausted,” Lola said. She then glanced back toward Christine and arched her brow. “Scott already sold off Frampton Freights and is working at the Inn full-time.”
“That’s great,” Christine said. Inwardly, she couldn’t believe how swiftly it had all happened. It took Christine ages to fall in love, to move in with someone, to feel as though someone mattered enough to keep them. Susan had arrived on the island a month before, and already, she seemed like the Queen.
The chicken was delightful, even for Christine’s rather high standards. It was moist, fall-off-the-bone, with just the right tang of BBQ. As she ate, she drank glass after glass of Pinot Grigio and found that her laughter rang louder, faster—even as her fatigue felt like this enormous cavern that opened up inside her.
The night before had been one of the most dramatic of her life and now, there she sat, with her sisters and her father, her cat inside. She would never return to the city and if she did, it certainly wouldn’t be anytime soon.
Still, she felt she couldn’t go to sleep. Lola and Wes both retired just after 10 o’clock in the evening. Scott drove back to his place, and Susan scrubbed the plates while Christine remained at the little table inside, overlooking the Sound. Felix swept past her ankles, humming a little purr as he went back and forth.
“I think it’s good you came back,” Susan said as she cut off the water at the sink.
“Hmm. I don’t know,” Christine said.
“It takes a little while to get used to it, I think, but once you do, the Vineyard fits like a glove,” Susan continued. She sat on the other side of the little nook table and poured herself the last few droplets of Pinot Grigio. “This has been a transformational year for all of us. Me, Scott, Dad, Lola... And this house is here for all of us. The Inn is here for all of us. I just hope you know how much you’re loved here, and how much we want to help you get through this. Heck, I’m still getting through it all.”
“You always make it look like it’s the easiest thing in the world,” Christine said as her eyes locked with her sister’s.
Immediately after, she regretted the words. Susan heaved a sigh.
“If only I could find a way to explain just how little that feels true to me. But I know it’s impossible,” she said. “In any case, Lola and I made up the single room for you. The one you had after I went away.”
“That’s your room,” Christine said, sputtering a little hint of guilt.
“True. But it was also yours. I don’t know what we’re going to do about all of us coming back. We’ll have to add another wing to the house,” Susan said, trying out another laugh.
Still, the sound of her giggle felt strange and sour. She reached forward and gripped Christine’s hand over the white tablecloth. “Just let me know if you need anything. You know I want to be here for you in everything—especially after we didn’t have one another for so long.”
Christine knew, but it felt too difficult to agree. She nodded, albeit only slightly, and then walked toward the staircase. At the entrance, she gripped the railing and said, “Another breakup. Another chapter. I don’t know how many more times I can do it.” As she spoke, her words echoed up the staircase and seemed to build a song.
When she turned back, Susan held her medical marijuana pen aloft and gazed at it somberly. Christine arched her brow, sensing that Susan no longer knew she was there. It was one of the stranger things she recognized, her sister’s new fascination with weed. She wondered why, but Christine had to accept it along with everything else that was happening.
Chapter Five
Christine slept until just after 5:30 in the morning. Throughout many eras of her pastry-chef career, she’d had to wake up at the crack of dawn, just as the first flickers of sunlight crested over the horizon line. This hadn’t always jived with her affinity for her love of wine. Now, as she lay in Susan’s bed in that old bedroom, where she’d frequently snuck boys in and out the window after midnight as a teenager, she listened to the birds chirp brightly as Martha’s Vineyard awakened.
A headache that was part of her hangover panged at Christine’s temples as she rose. She rubbed them slowly, wincing, but continued to stretch herself up until she stood in only her shorts and tank top. Felix was nowhere to be found, as she had left a crack in the door so he could come and go.
Downstairs, Christine found her father at the breakfast table in front of a large puzzle. A mug of coffee steamed beside him, and a piece of toast awaited him, smeared with chunky peanut butter. He placed the tip of his finger agai
nst his chin and tapped at it once, twice, then grabbed a piece of the puzzle and clicked it into place.
“Good one,” Christine said. She stepped toward him and analyzed the puzzle, which seemed to be on its way to an image of a bright red barn, a few cows, and a large tractor. “1000 pieces. Are you glutton for punishment?”
Her dad’s cheeks burned red as he laughed. “The doctor and Susan are on me to put together puzzles like this. They say it’ll help me keep my head straight a little bit longer. Who knows? I was never one for games like this as a kid, even.”
“I’m sure it’ll help,” Christine assured him, trying her best to select the appropriate words. She poured herself a cup of coffee and joined her father across the table, peering at the pieces. After a pause, she grabbed one and latched it onto the back-end of a cow.
“Very good. I probably would have needed another twenty minutes to see that,” her dad said.
“Are you helping him? He needs to do it by himself,” Susan called, swooping in from upstairs. She clacked an earring into first her right ear, then her left, and grabbed her purse. “I’m going to be late. I’m meant to be at the front desk at six. Natalie is going to kill me.”
“Natalie doesn’t have the energy to be mad at anyone,” Wes said.
“Christine, what will you do today?” Susan asked, drawing the purse over her shoulder. She sounded every bit like the busy, go-getting mother she had probably been the past twenty years.
“Not sure. Maybe a swim? Or a hike?” These were not things that seemed altogether fun to Christine’s current addled brain, but she wanted to push herself.
“Fantastic,” Susan replied, her grin wide.
Had she smoked something already? Was that why she was so chipper this early in the morning?
Firefly Nights Page 3
