Janine had no idea how she would remain docile and even-keel with Nancy. No matter how much time had passed, they couldn’t avoid the darkness between them. It was ever-present.
Chapter Eleven
Janine found herself again in the passenger seat of Nancy’s BMW. She folded and unfolded her hands on her lap as her mother twiddled with the radio stations and said, “How about classic rock?” just as she took her foot off the brake and pressed the gas, driving the car down the long driveway. Boston’s “More Than A Feeling” buzzed from the speakers, and Janine tried to tell herself to breathe. This was her first, official, big day with her mother, and the sun was shining, and the morning was fresh and light. Nothing could sour it. Maybe.
“Let’s grab something sweet to eat,” Nancy said, mostly to herself, as she whipped down the back road and headed toward Edgartown. “What do you say to that?”
Janine gave a light shrug. “Okay.”
Nancy flashed her eyes toward her daughter. “You used to beg me for donuts when you were little. Do you remember? You would pick up little coins from the sidewalk and try to add them together to make enough for a donut from the bakery. Once, you found two quarters, and you nearly lost your little mind because it meant you could have two donuts. One for me, and one for you.”
Janine’s heart dropped a bit. She could still remember the gooey delight of those donuts, which they’d purchased from an Italian immigrant’s bakery, on the corner of their block. She could still remember the way the bakery had smelled and how volatile the Italian baker had been when he’d been cranky, always yelling at his young son for taking donuts from the window.
Nancy parked the car outside a little, rustic-looking bakery, with a sign that read: Frosted Delights Bakery. Janine followed her mother inside to find a bustling cafe, with a friendly-looking and beautiful woman behind the counter. The woman had long, red tresses, and her fashion was spectacular, altogether wasted beneath her bakery apron.
“Nancy, hello!” the woman said.
“Jennifer, good to see you,” Nancy returned warmly. “I told you I was on that diet and wouldn’t be back for a while, remember?”
“I remember it all too well.” Jennifer’s laugh sparkled. “But I hear something like that from Vineyard residents about five times a day. I know better than to believe it. My mother’s donut recipe is just too good.”
“They’re sinful,” Nancy explained, her eyes connecting with Janine’s. “Especially the frosted maple. Oh, but what was it you always loved as a girl?”
Janine watched, curious, as her mother’s face twitched with the memory.
Finally, her mother snapped her fingers and said, “You liked caramel. And look. They have one there. Jennifer, we’ll take one caramel and one maple, please.”
“Coming right up,” Jennifer affirmed.
Nancy gave Janine a look that said: see? I wasn’t the worst mother, was I? I remembered your favorite treat.
And in truth, Janine was the slightest bit impressed.
“By the way, Jennifer, I want you to meet my daughter,” Nancy said as Jennifer tapped the cost into the register. “This is Janine. She’s here from the city. This is her first time on the island!”
Jennifer’s lips formed a round O of surprise. “My gosh. I was going to say. She’s the spitting image of you, Nancy. Really. Hi, Janine. Welcome to Martha’s Vineyard. You should know that your mother is something of a pillar of our community around here.”
Janine’s cheek twitched as she took the bag of donuts from Jennifer. A pillar of the community? Her mother? Nancy? And there it was again — that constant “you look just like twins!” refrain.
“I’m happy to be here,” Janine said, her voice strained.
“We have a big day planned,” Nancy told Jennifer.
“I should think so. How do you show Martha’s Vineyard for the first time? Especially to someone so important.” Jennifer’s smile grew wider.
But Janine’s stomach clenched with resentment. This woman? Did she really think she knew Nancy Grimson? Janine had a few stories that would enlighten her.
Back outside, Nancy said, “Let’s stretch our legs the rest of the way. Do you mind?”
“We’ll just leave your car here at the bakery?”
“It’s a pretty safe little place,” Nancy said. “Like I said. We hardly ever lock our doors. We hardly ever worry about anything, really. After Brooklyn and that year I spent in Bangkok — it’s such a relief.”
Janine stopped short and gave her mother a bug-eyed look. “Bangkok?”
Nancy’s lips quivered into a smile. “I suppose you don’t know. That’s where I went, that year after I visited you last in New York. I got my massage therapist license there and practiced for a number of months.”
“In Thailand?” Janine was incredulous.
“It’s part of the reason I got the job at the Katama Lodge,” Nancy said. “Neal was there on business.”
“You met Neal in Bangkok?” Janine demanded.
“Yes. But we didn’t get together until later. Although I have to admit, the minute I saw him, sparks flew. At least for me.”
Janine felt more and more like her mother was a complete stranger.
Nancy led Janine toward the Edgartown harbor, where a number of sailboats rested up against the docks and swayed with the breeze. When they reached the edge of the dock, Nancy waved a hand through the air, and another arm in the distance waved back. As the boat approached, Janine recognized its sailor as Jeff, the man she had met the previous day.
Just before the boat made its way up to the dock, Nancy said, “I want you to experience the island in the most beautiful way, which is from the water. At least, that’s my opinion.” She paused and then asked, “Have you been on a sailboat before?”
Janine had. She and Jack had chartered a sailboat in Greece when Alyssa and Maggie had been ten and eight. They’d stayed with babysitters in Athens, while Janine and Jack had floated from island to island.
But Janine didn’t want to dwell in the past.
“A few times,” Janine said. “But it’s been a while.”
“Of course you have,” Nancy said. “I have a feeling your experiences would fill many different memoirs, now.”
“With the marvelous conclusion of my husband’s affair,” Janine interjected, almost without realizing the words spewed out.
But before Nancy could respond, Jeff latched to the side and then helped the two of them onto the teetering boat. He beamed at them and said, “When Nancy suggested we take you out sailing today, I knew it was the perfect way to greet you. You don’t get seasick, do you?”
Janine, whose stomach now swirled around strangely, maybe due to the donut or the memories that flung through her, said, “No. I’ve never gotten seasick.”
Of course, there was a first time for everything.
Janine settled herself on a little chair, which was attached to the side of the boat. The sails flourished out as the sea air rushed through them, and in a matter of seconds, they pushed out from the docks and breezed north toward the Edgartown Lighthouse, located at the tip of a sandy beach, where light green grass swayed in the gentle June breeze. It was now close to nine in the morning, and tourists had begun to flock to the beaches and boardwalks; their bright white outfits glowed beneath the bright sun.
“It’s really something to see the tourists come back,” Nancy said softly.
“It must annoy you?” Janine asked.
“On the contrary,” Nancy returned. “It’s like renewed life back to the island. It’s like the island flourishes again after very cold and dark winter nights. Oh, and this most previous winter was the worst of all.” She exhaled again as her eyelashes fluttered across her cheeks. “I only wish Neal could see this. It was his favorite time of year. End of spring, early summer — when days are both long and short and the entire world, it seems like, comes out to play on the Vineyard.”
Janine allowed herself to acknowledge the beauty of the
island as they swirled around it. They sailed westward, then up, along the Joseph Sylvia State Beach, then they continued toward Oak Bluffs. Nancy explained that the two larger towns on the island were Oak Bluffs and Edgartown and that the island enjoyed a population of approximately 14,000 during the off-season.
“A tight-knit community,” Nancy affirmed.
“It’s definitely no Bangkok.”
Nancy blushed. “You probably have some questions, don’t you?”
Janine wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Her stomach tightened.
But before she could say anything, Nancy said, “It’s okay. I have some questions for you, too. I hope we’ll find the time for each other.”
Janine wasn’t entirely sure she wanted that conversation to happen. She’d already nearly lost her mind over the story of the caramel donuts and the quarters found on the Brooklyn sidewalk. Digging deeper was dangerous, at least she thought so.
The sailing expedition lasted several hours. Jeff had packed them light snacks, including cheese and crackers, some freshly-made bread, which he said he had purchased from the Sunrise Cove Inn Bistro’s bakery.
“Christine always does such a good job,” Nancy said as she sliced through the sourdough and paired a bit with some camembert. “Maybe you know her old restaurant, actually, Janine. She was the pastry chef for — oh, Jeff, what was Christine’s old restaurant called? It was in upper Manhattan. I’m sure of it.”
Jeff snapped his fingers. “Wasn’t it Chez something? Chez Frank?”
“That’s it,” Nancy squealed with delight. “A French place.”
In fact, Janine did know it. It had been one of the more marvelous French cuisine restaurants in upper Manhattan until it had spontaneously closed the previous summer. She’d heard a rumor that the owner had been a bit shady.
“It was delicious,” she finally mustered, slightly hating that anything to do with her mother’s life had aligned with hers back in Manhattan.
“You’ll have to swing by the Sunrise Cove and meet Christine,” Nancy suggested. “Although she does have her hands full these days. She’s helping her niece raise her baby. Quite a family, the Sheridan clan. Oh — look! Janine, those cliffs are truly spectacular. Aquinnah Cliffs. Before you leave the island, we have to hike along them. It has the most beautiful views of the ocean.”
Janine blinked up at the blissful tan stones and sands of the cliffs, which lined the western-most point of the island. She, too, took a little bite of the sourdough, which was sinfully delicious. By the time she’d finished her first slice, her mother had already prepared herself a second and dug in.
Look at us; she thought— feeling the breeze from the ocean, eating delicious foods, without a care in the world. It was so strange how things worked, how time changed, how people changed.
How different it all was now compared to childhood and the worries that had surrounded them.
When they rounded back through Katama Bay, Nancy pointed out the Katama Lodge, where it lurked over the top of the water. Her eyes were glassy. “I miss that old place. Looks like a haunted lodge that hasn’t been up and running in forever, doesn’t it?”
Janine thought back to what Elsa had said that morning about Carmella’s selfishness in wanting to reopen. It was a simple way to look at grief, saying you just needed to “get over it.” Janine knew that well.
Several minutes before the docks came into view again, Janine’s stomach jumped into her chest, then dropped again. Her intestines tried to tangle themselves up. She placed her hand over her gut and groaned.
“Honey, you look green,” her mother said.
Janine’s eyes snapped toward her mother’s. Why was she suddenly so angry? Did she just really not want to seem weak in front of her mother? Could it really be that simple?
“I just need to get off this boat,” Janine finally said, through clenched teeth.
When they neared the dock, Janine lurched herself off the boat and hustled as far as she could away from the other sailors. Her legs were like jelly. When she couldn’t run anymore, she fell to her knees and began to dry-heave. She was no longer sure if it was seasickness or just the horror of her strange life that plagued her. She dry-heaved again and almost willed something, anything to come out of her.
There was a hand on her upper back. Then, there was her mother’s voice.
“Honey? Are you okay?”
Janine snapped her head around, suddenly angry. “Honey?”
Nancy’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I just—do you want water or something?”
Janine dry-heaved again as Nancy removed her hand. “I just don’t know why you think you can fix everything now,” Janine muttered, mostly to the ground.
She knew the words were juvenile. She knew they wouldn’t solve anything.
After a long silence, Janine forced herself back to her feet. She turned to look at her mother, whose eyes were filled with tears.
But then, something else caught her eye. Just beyond Nancy, stationed in a sailboat, was a video camera. It was pointed directly at her. Janine bristled. She was reminded all over again of the gossip columnists and their obsession with her divorce and everything she’d had to endure. She glared at the camera for a long moment, until suddenly, the man behind it brought the camera down so that he could check out the shot he’d just taken.
The man behind the camera was Henry. The documentarian who was friends with Jack.
Mortified and totally enraged, Janine stormed toward his boat.
“Janine? What are you doing?” Nancy cried after her.
Henry didn’t look up until Janine’s arrival.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Janine demanded.
Henry’s eyes lifted. His face fell in recognition. He’d been caught.
“Janine. Hello.”
Janine resented this. “You can’t just pretend you weren’t just videotaping me.”
Henry balked. “What are you talking about, Janine? I wasn’t.”
Janine swept a hand out and beckoned for the camera. “Give me the camera. I want to delete it.”
“I didn’t take any video of you,” Henry blared.
“That’s such bull,” Janine returned. “You’re probably rough on money and know you can sell something like that to one of the tabloids. ‘Jack Potter’s ex has a nervous breakdown on Martha’s Vineyard.’ Blah blah.”
“You really think I — a multi-award-winning documentarian — would take any interest in some woman’s mental decline?” Henry returned.
“Multi-award winning? Oh, wow. Love how you drop your accolades into the conversation, not that they mean anything,” Janine scoffed. “As though any of your movies have ever made any money.”
Henry’s arms flailed back; then his eyes narrowed as he said, “Your husband let my last project die on the cutting room floor—”
Suddenly, in a quick, violent motion, he accidentally threw his video camera directly into the water. Janine’s eyes went wide as the expensive, black device went THUNK into the salty ocean. Henry blinked at the entry sight, too. They both seemed to ponder it with shock.
And Janine could imagine it, as it floated through the glowing depths, toward the ocean floor below.
Chapter Twelve
What Janine had said to Nancy in front of the Edgartown Lighthouse seemed to put a wedge between the two of them for the rest of the day. In some respects, Janine felt guilty, as she knew her mother had only tried to create a beautiful memory of the two of them — trying to find a way to bridge beyond the sadness. It had resulted in near-vomit, a dead video camera, and a very quiet car ride back to Nancy’s house, where Janine drew herself a steaming bath and stared at the white glow of the wall for a good hour while hardly focusing on anything.
Elsa came to her room around three-thirty and asked if she wanted to go for a walk or head to the fish market over by Oak Bluffs. Janine tried to lend a smile but couldn’t feel it in her eyes. Elsa’s own fake smile dropped, too.
“I don’t think I’m up for it. The sailing took a lot out of me,” Janine told her.
“Yeah. I understand that” Elsa returned. “Nancy said you got a little bit seasick?”
“Something like that.”
“I’ll make you something easy on the stomach for dinner,” Elsa said. “Soup or something.”
“You don’t need to do that.” If she was honest, she wasn’t sure she wanted to eat anything for the rest of the day.
“Nonsense. That’s the kind of thing we do around here,” Elsa replied evenly. “We take care of each other.”
Janine wrapped herself up in a robe and fell back on the bed. She’d entered back into dark-gloomy-depressed Janine, and she wasn’t sure how to yank herself out of it. She scanned through her phone, grateful that the gossip columnists had focused on a few other Manhattan celebrities that day. Perhaps they would move on from her for good. After all, she wasn’t Jack Potter’s wife any longer.
At the end of one of the articles, she spotted clickbait for something else: MAXINE AUBERT STEPS OUT IN PUBLIC WITH JACK POTTER FOR FIRST TIME.
Don’t click, Janine told herself. Don’t you dare click.
But of course, she clicked. How could she not?
Suddenly, she found herself staring at a photograph of the two people she loved more than any others in the world. Maxine wore six-inch heels and a long skirt, with a slice up the side that highlighted her absolutely iconic legs. She wore a jean jacket, which made her look youthful, and her hair was tousled beautifully. Jack wore a button-down and a pair of jeans, and he had his hands in his pockets while Maxine wrapped her hand around his bicep and spoke to him about something.
The first line of the article was this: Finally, Maxine Aubert breathes a sigh of relief as her love is finally allowed to flourish in public.
Janine thought she might dry-heave all over again.
That moment, as though God himself knew she needed help, Alyssa texted.
ALYSSA: Hey, Mom! How’s that island? And Grandma?
JANINE: Hey, honey. It’s pretty beautiful.
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