4152 Witchwood Lane

by Katie Winters

  “Like what?”

  Isabelle struggled to articulate even one lie. Mila chuckled and said, “You’re going to have to be more creative than that. Especially when you’re up at Tufts?? and you want to skip a class or something. Your teacher will want to hear something a bit more — believable.”

  “Funny, Mom,” Isabelle made a face. “I’ll work on that.”

  Mila dressed in a pair of overalls and a white t-shirt. She packed a low-cut navy dress with a large slit up the side of the leg for the evening party, along with a pair of dangerous heels. The heels themselves seemed to welcome tragedy; already, Olivia’s daughter, Chelsea, had broken her leg on the back porch of the old mansion, and Mila had nearly gotten very hurt in the basement when they had discovered that old chest near the wine cellar.

  But according to Olivia, she and Anthony had fixed up every nook and cranny. “Not even a nail is poking out anywhere,” she’d explained proudly.

  The long drive that led from the country road up to the old mansion was lined with boisterous and healthy trees. Green light swarmed in on either side, so much so that you were distracted. It was like a tunnel of color and life. When Mila reached the far end, she slipped her vehicle alongside Jennifer’s. When she turned, she found Jennifer still in the front seat with her face against the steering wheel. Mila cackled, and Jennifer lifted her head just the slightest bit. She looked exhausted.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Mila asked as she sauntered around the side of her car.

  Jennifer stumbled out with a large box of donuts from the Frosted Delights Bakery. Her normally vibrant red hair hung in strings. “I could hardly sleep last night.”

  “Why not?”

  Jennifer buzzed her lips. “Derek is on this new medication that makes him snore.”

  Mila laughed. “Couldn’t you have gone to the couch or something?”

  Jennifer scrunched her nose. “Maybe with Joel, that would have been okay, you know? But Derek and I are still kind of new at this, and I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

  “New relationships sound traumatic,” Mila offered.

  Jennifer hesitated. She lifted the box of donuts a bit higher and then said, “We still haven’t talked about the whole online dating situation from the other night.”

  Mila had given them only a brief overview of the horrific situation. All in all, she wanted to put it behind her.

  “You have to believe there are better guys out there than that,” Jennifer said.

  “I don’t have to believe anything,” Mila returned. “Besides, there’s so much going on right now. I don’t have time to think about any of that.”

  Just as Jennifer opened her lips to protest, Olivia hustled out of the front door. She was a pale mess of a thing, and her hair was wild and curly around her ears, as though she’d slept on it all wrong and hadn’t bothered to fix it up.

  “Oh, fantastic! You’re here. I already have Camilla and Amelia hard at work inside,” she said.

  Jennifer and Mila exchanged worried glances. It was time to face the music.

  Once inside, Olivia guided them toward the dining room, where they found Amelia up to her elbows in a sea of linen napkins. She looked up and then hurriedly looked back down as though Olivia had already picked her apart for dallying.

  “Maybe you two could start here with Amelia. I need all the silverware to be wrapped in these linens, and then I need the entire dining room to be set up for dinner,” Olivia told her.

  Already, the kitchen swelled with steam and vibrant smells as the first of the kitchen staff ducked from wall to wall, chopping up vegetables and brewing broth. Mila’s stomach growled with hunger as Jennifer swung open the box of donuts and gestured in.

  “But make sure not to eat the donuts and then touch the linens,” Olivia instructed.

  Mila, Amelia, and Jennifer glared at Olivia, who paused for a moment before ducking back toward the kitchen in a tizzy.

  “I’ve never seen her like this,” Amelia breathed.

  “She reminds me of my mother,” Mila said.

  “Oh no. Don’t say that,” Jennifer said. She snuck a small morsel of donut between her teeth and chewed sadly. “Your mother is super intense.”

  From the kitchen, they heard Olivia’s vibrant howl as she told someone he’d chopped a carrot incorrectly. At that moment, Anthony bustled down the staircase, which curved from the upper floors. He was dressed in a pair of shorts and a dark grey t-shirt, and he looked just as frazzled as Olivia, although he managed a smile when he spotted the three of them.

  “Hey, you guys!” he greeted with a stressful smile. “Thanks for your help. Where’s Olivia?”

  Then, Olivia’s voice rang out from the kitchen once more, and Anthony followed after it. “I guess that’s a clue!”

  Mila grabbed several linen napkins and muttered, “Remind me never to open up my own hotel.”

  “I wonder if we’ve lost her for good,” Amelia said. She eased one of the linen napkins across her pregnant belly and then flattened her hand across it playfully. She looked just about as tired as Jennifer — perhaps more so. She was three months pregnant, after all.

  “Have you seen Camilla anywhere?” Mila asked, suddenly worried.

  Amelia nodded. “We arrived together, but then Olivia kidnapped her and left her somewhere to die.”

  Jennifer snorted and took another bite of her donut. Mila folded the first round of silverware and then stood up to hunt for Camilla. “Maybe she needs help. Nobody should be in the trenches alone at The Hesson House.”

  Mila stepped out onto the wrap-around porch. From there, there was the rush and cascade of the waves as they swarmed in from the Nantucket Sound. She paused for a moment and allowed her eyes to close. The simmering salty air seemed somehow more alive there on the porch than it did on Witchwood Lane. There was a magic to the place — a history you could sense at every turn.

  Chelsea’s voice rang out from the side of the porch. Mila opened her eyes to find Chelsea and her boyfriend, Xavier, as they ambled around from the far end. Xavier held a step-ladder while Chelsea swung a hammer dangerously along her leg.

  “Hi, Aunt Mila!” Chelsea said. “I guess Mom’s dragged all of you out here.”

  “Seems like it.” Mila grinned wider. “What does she have the two of you doing?”

  “We had to hang some paintings in the side room,” Chelsea said.

  “Very good.”

  “To be honest, we’re killing time now before we find Mom again. She’s in a weird state. Kind of freaking me out,” Chelsea said.

  Mila laughed. “I can understand it. It’s a huge day.”

  “Of course. I just hope she doesn’t lose her mind,” Chelsea countered.

  “Have you seen Camilla anywhere? We’ve lost her, and we’re a bit scared she’s up to her ears in something difficult.”

  “Ah. Actually, yes. She’s in the boathouse,” Chelsea said as she swung her hammer outward and pointed down toward the waterline.

  Mila hustled down the steps and stretched her legs out toward the little wooden building. Chelsea’s laughter echoed out across the grounds. Mila thought about the upcoming changes — how soon, just like Isabelle and Zane, Chelsea and Xavier would head out into the world alone. This was another thing Olivia attempted to forget about; in fact, every time Mila brought it up in conversation, Olivia managed to dart away from it. It was too painful, probably. It reminded her too much of her ex-husband, who had abandoned her on the island years ago.

  Mila reached the boathouse. Within the shadows of the creaking place, she found Camilla crouched down alongside various canoes and paddle boats. When Mila stepped in, Camilla lifted her face the slightest bit. Her cheeks reflected the sliver of sunlight that came in from the doorway.

  “What the heck does she have you doing in here?”

  Camilla dropped a wooden-carved number on the ground. “She wants me to connect these numbers to the boats as a way to keep a record of them when people rent them out.
” Camilla blew out a breath. “But I can’t get them all on straight and it’s bothering me. I keep thinking — I literally work as a nurse. I take blood. I help with surgeries. I see some of the worst and most difficult things up at the hospital. But this job, for some reason, has brought me to my knees.”

  Mila laughed outright. She stepped closer and sat down on the wooden floor alongside her. “I’ve never seen Olivia like this before.”

  Camilla nodded as she tried again to attach the number seven to the back of a paddleboat. “To be honest, though, I’m really happy for her. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re not living for anything. I had that the past six months or so. Just the constant getting up, making coffee, going to work, coming home, yada yada yada. It got so tiring to feel like — okay, the rest of my life is just me, doing all the same repetitive actions to keep myself alive. But now, you know, Olivia has The Hesson House and she has Anthony and she has stuff to get all worked up about. It’s a good thing.”

  Mila’s throat tightened. She dropped her eyes to the ground.

  Hurriedly, Camilla interjected, “I mean, not that all that non-stop life stuff isn’t a lot—”

  Mila didn’t want Camilla to feel as though she had said the wrong thing. Life was difficult enough. Sometimes, the wrong things were said; sometimes, the wrong things were the right things, anyway.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Mila told her. She lifted up the number six and then brushed a strand of hair around her ear. “How is it going with Jonathon this week, anyway?”

  Camilla’s grin widened. “It’s like night and day. He’s there for us in everything. He even listens to all the little, boring details of the wedding Andrea now wants to plan. He’s the father he was before everything happened. And I just couldn’t be more pleased.”

  Mila’s grin widened. What on earth could she want more than the happiness of her friends? And really, this was what this Saturday morning was all about: another day for the Sisters of Edgartown to come together in support of one another. They could grumble about it all they wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that this was the only place they wanted to be.

  Chapter Nine

  The first guests began to arrive at The Hesson House’s opening party around five-thirty that evening. Mila hustled back to the foyer from the bathroom, where she had donned her navy dress and carefully blended foundation and eyeliner and lipstick across her face. Olivia was a bright light of welcoming energy. She beamed at everyone as she greeted them and instructed them to head off to the back porch, where the party spilled out across the grounds. A DJ pumped delicate beats from a table near the shoreline, and caterers passed down the stairs and across the sands with their trays lifted. Each tray held a cornucopia of French and Italian delights — tiny snacks, which according to Zach Walters, the hired chef for the evening, would “go fast as lightning.” From where Mila stood in the foyer, she could just barely make out the top of Zach Walters’ blonde head. When she had passed by earlier, she’d heard him in a heated argument with one of the servers. Zach Walters was known for his hot-headedness and also for his absolutely stunning catering capabilities. When Camilla had asked Olivia why she’d gone with him for the night, Olivia had just shrugged and said, “Everyone knows, this is how you hold an opening night. You have to have Zach.”

  Olivia beckoned for Mila to stand at the foyer desk to check in the guests as they entered. This allowed Olivia to scatter out across the grounds and greet other guests, ensure that the caterers were circulating, and smile for various photographs, the likes of which would be featured in some of the most prominent and established magazines of the boutique hotel world. As Camilla passed by the front desk, she muttered, “I think Olivia might actually be in her element,” and the next time Mila spotted her, she had to agree. The previous, frantic quality of Olivia’s face had been transplanted for something tender and calm and absolutely gorgeous.

  All of The Hesson House suites were filled up with prominent families from Martha’s Vineyard, New York City, and Boston. You could sense the elevated nature of the lot of them — the fact that many of them were millionaires and had multiple houses across the world; the fact that none of them had ever wanted for anything; the fact that they were some of the ritziest and highest-achieving members of society and thusly had been allowed space in The Hesson House on its opening night. When Olivia passed by Mila again, she muttered, “These people love two things more than anything. They love to gossip, and they love to brag. Let’s hope all that bragging will bring their friends to The Hesson House for years into the future.”

  When all the guests had been checked in, Olivia put Mila to work outside. She stood at the drink table and assisted the bartender for nearly an hour — frequently bantering with him beneath the orange light of the evening sun. There was a heavenly quality to the light, as though The Hesson House had taken up residence on a cloud somewhere in the distance.

  Mila watched her other sisters as the time drifted past. Camilla had taken on a part-time catering position; she rushed around with a tray held high and her blonde hair streaming behind her. She paused just once near the drink table and brought the tray downward so that Mila could grab a small slice of cheese.

  “Don’t let Olivia see you,” Camilla said with a sneaky smile.

  Just before dinner, Olivia made a small speech from the back porch, overlooking the crowd. She looked absolutely iconic, with a long yellow dress that cinched tight around her waist and streamed around her legs. Mila leaned toward the bartender and muttered, “I can’t believe that normally, she’s just a teacher at a high school.”

  “No way,” the bartender muttered. “I think I might be hot for teacher.”

  Mila laughed outright and Olivia glared at her in a way that told her to shut her lips tight.

  “Good evening, everyone, and welcome to opening night of The Hesson House,” Olivia announced. “I want to thank you all for making this night a particularly memorable one. Years and years ago, my Great Aunt Marcia, who once owned this house and left it to me in her death, told me that you have to grab life and mold it. You have to be the master of your own destiny. And in a sense, this house is the next step in my future and all of you have agreed to come on this ride with me. My partner and boyfriend, Anthony and I have worked tirelessly here. We’ve put our blood, sweat and tears into every nook and cranny. We want nights like this to open up with magic and life.

  “And now, without further ado, I would like to welcome you all to the dining room, where Martha’s Vineyard’s very best, Zach Walters, has built an iconic menu for us. Enjoy dinner and then meet back out here for an evening of activities.”

  Camilla breezed past the drink table again, her cheeks puffed out. Mila rushed after her and slipped her fingers through hers. “You okay, Cam?”

  “Oh, yes. Of course,” Camilla replied. “I’m just exhausted. Every time I see Olivia, she has me running one direction or another.”

  Chelsea rushed past at that moment, carrying a number of blankets. She paused, gasped and said, “Me and Xavier are going to set up the bonfires for after dinner. We need more blankets, but I have no idea where the rest of them are.”

  “Ugh,” Camilla said.

  “Where’s Amelia?” Mila asked then.

  “She was looking for blankets in an upstairs closet,” Chelsea said. “Last I saw her, that is.”

  Mila unlinked her fingers from Camilla’s and headed toward the back door. Once there, she glanced leftward to see the ritzy couples as they sat for dinner. Candlelight reflected across their cheeks beautifully. They leaned toward one another in conversation, their eyes dancing with light.

  Mila scampered up the winding staircase on the hunt for Amelia. Once on the landing, she called, “Amelia? Are you up here?”

  And then, she heard a horrible sound. A moan curled out from the back hallway, a moan that sounded like a great deal of pain. Mila cranked her legs out in front of her and rushed toward it. In a moment, she discovered Amelia in
front of the wide-open door of the hallway closet. She had her hand stretched out across her stomach, and she blinked toward the ceiling with glowing, panicked eyes.

  “Amelia!” Mila knelt beside her as her heart raced. Tears sprung to her eyes. “What happened?”

  Amelia’s own cheeks were coated with tears. “I don’t know. I just — I just fell backward. The lights went out.”

  “How long have you been on the ground? Can you stand up?”

  Amelia’s nostrils flared. “I tried, but I really can’t. There’s something — painful. Here.” She tapped her stomach very, very gently and then closed her eyes.

  Mila could practically feel the panic as it ran over Amelia in endless waves. This was her first baby; she was forty-one years old. Complications weren’t outside of reason; in fact, they were expected.

  Hurriedly, Mila grabbed her phone from her pocket and dialed Camilla. “Hi babe!” she said. She wanted to keep her voice light, easy, so as not to freak Amelia out even more. “I think we have a little situation upstairs. I’m going to call the hospital, but in the meantime, I would love your input up here.”

  Camilla’s voice dropped about three octaves. “I’m on my way.”

  As Mila dialed 9-1-1, she had a strange memory of that long-ago August night when she had noticed just how staggering and drunken Michelle was. “We have to watch out for Michelle,” she’d told Jennifer at the time. “I’m worried about her.” But of course, Mila had let her guard down; they all had. And Michelle hadn’t lived through the night.

  She cursed herself as she explained the situation to the operator. The operator said she would send an ambulance immediately. As Mila thanked her, Camilla appeared alongside them with a glass of water. She was the perfect nurse: nothing about her face revealed any of the panic Mila knew swam around in her gut.

  “Hi, babe,” Camilla said. “I brought you some water. Can you lift your head up a little bit?”

  Amelia buzzed her lips. “This is ridiculous. Olivia is going to kill me for ruining her party.”