An unexpected flash of jealousy surprised Juliet when Ryder mentioned other women.
“Your turn now,” Ryder said.
“Hmm.” Juliet leaned back against the headrest. “My mother, Lisa, well, you met her. She’s wonderful. Especially admirable because our father left her for another woman when were young. So basically, we’re a three-person family.”
“Do you ever visit your father?”
“No. We’ve never been invited. I haven’t even seen a picture of him for years. When we were kids, Mom used to show us photos of our father holding us when we were babies, and she impressed upon us what an intelligent man he was. He’s a banker, and he also inherited a nice chunk of money, so he always made the child support payments on time. Mother appreciated that. But when you’re little, you don’t get it about the money. You don’t understand why your dad doesn’t want to see you.”
“I’m sorry.”
Juliet shrugged. “It was harder on Theo, not having a dad around. It made us both feel…not exactly worthless, but not worth much. Theo had a tough time in high school and thank heavens, he discovered surfing. I think he got rid of his anger that way. Now he’s out in San Diego, a chill surfer dude.”
“And you?”
“Me.” Juliet thought. “You could say I have a problem trusting men. The last relationship I had was bizarre. He had to move to New York, and he didn’t tell me in advance or ask me to go with him. Well, I don’t suppose I would have wanted to go. We weren’t crazy for each other. I was hurt when he left, but mostly I was so insulted. So, well, there’s that.”
“He sounds like an idiot.”
“I think he was more of a user.” Juliet watched the road fly past, all the cars and trucks changing lanes to go faster. Something about Ryder’s words, the way he made her feel admired and comfortable, helped her think. “And you know? I’m not sure I want to love anyone. My mother, who is totally wonderful, got dumped by our father and we were abandoned, too. So I’m not comfortable trusting anyone. But I’m fine. I’m really good at my job. It’s fun. It pays well. I can work from anywhere as long as I have a computer. I’ve got a good apartment and great friends in Cambridge.” She paused, laughing. “Could I sound any more boring? All I lack is the cliché cat.”
“I don’t think you’re boring. And from my point of view, I don’t think anyone on the island thinks you’re boring, either. I’ve seen people look at you with envy. Admiration.”
“Really?” Juliet was shocked. “Where?”
“At my lecture at the Atheneum. I saw some guys checking you out.”
“Ryder, lower the volume, please. I know those guys. They were probably trying to see if I’ve become a lesbian.”
“Oh, you can tell that by looking?”
Juliet laughed.
“We’re almost there,” Ryder said. “Let me take you out to dinner Tuesday night. Just dinner, nothing else.”
“Fine,” she answered carelessly, hoping she didn’t sound as frightened, amazed, and attracted as she felt. “That will be fun.”
nine
Sometimes, Beth thought, a person really needs life to give them a sign.
When she woke on the first day of June, her third morning home, her bed and her childhood bedroom had seemed odd, as if they belonged to another person, and in a way, they had. Of course if she had to, she could walk through the entire house blindfolded, but this house had belonged to a different person, a girl who had been knocked down by fate before she had time to grow up.
On her bedside table was the framed photo of her as a little girl with her father and her mother. She’d been only two when the picture was taken, and she didn’t remember that moment, but she cherished the photograph that proved it had existed. Her mother had existed, had loved her, so long ago, and might even be somewhere loving her still.
Next to that picture was one of Atticus. The glass was cracked because one day years ago, in a fit of rage at Atticus for killing himself, she had picked up the photo and carried it out to the trash barrel and tossed it in, slamming down the lid as hard as she could. That night she hadn’t been able to fall asleep until she quietly retrieved the picture. She would never see him alive again, but she needed to have him with her somehow. And the cracked glass over his face seemed somehow appropriate, because he was broken. She never got a new one.
Beth pulled on a light summer dress and flip-flops. Her father called out to her, “See you tonight!” and left for work. She found fresh coffee waiting for her, and in the middle of the kitchen table, a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, which had been her favorite cereal when she was a child.
“Sweet!” she said aloud, smiling at her father’s thoughtfulness.
But what she really craved was an onion bagel with cream cheese. She didn’t want to hurt her father’s feelings, but no way was she going to eat that sugary cereal. She wasn’t a little girl anymore.
Carrying her mug, Beth walked through her home as if it were a museum. In a way it was a museum. Nothing had changed since she went away to college, seven years ago. No new furniture, no new carpet, no new drapes—one new thing, a large flat-screen on the wall in the den. Other than that, she didn’t think her father had changed a thing.
But why should he? Old Persian rugs that were once his family’s softened the wood floors, and the mix-and-match furniture was welcoming. The most modern place was his kitchen, with its gleaming chrome appliances and the rack over the stove, which was hung with copper-bottomed pans. The only art on the walls were three pictures Beth had painted at various times in her life. Her father had had them framed and hung around the large room.
He needed some good art. He could use a new armchair—the one he clearly favored was slightly sagging. She had usually come home from college at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and she’d also spent every summer at home, but she’d never considered the state of the house because she was working two jobs to make money for college and then for grad school and working for her master’s.
And now? She wanted to brighten up the place.
First things first. She needed to get a job. She wanted to work for the Nantucket Historical Association, but they were fully staffed and now that summer was here, they would have plenty of volunteers. There were museums all over the country that needed qualified help, but Beth wanted to live and work on Nantucket. At least she thought she did. Now that she’d earned her master’s degree, she had no one to report to, no deadlines to meet, no papers to write, and it seemed only natural to return to her island home. That didn’t mean she had to stay here. She wasn’t locked in.