Winter Storms

MARGARET

Here is a little-known fact about Margaret Quinn: She likes some news stories better than others. At the bottom of her list are terrorist attacks, random shootings, and… the election. Margaret has to fight off her indifference on a daily basis. She has been on familiar terms with the past three presidents and her overwhelming emotion toward them wasn’t awe or admiration, it was pity. Being president of the United States is the most stressful, thankless job in the world and Margaret can’t fathom why anyone would voluntarily pursue it. End of topic.

Margaret’s favorite kind of news story is-would anyone believe this?-the weather. The dull, the prosaic, the default I-have-nothing-else-to-talk-about-so-let’s-talk-about-the-weather topic is, to Margaret’s mind, a stunning daily phenomenon, overlooked and taken for granted. Margaret loves it all: hurricanes, tornadoes, blizzards, lightning storms, and-the ultimate bonanza-an earthquake followed by a tsunami. This may seem sadistic, but even as she mourns any loss of life, she is intrigued by the science of it. Weather is a physical manifestation of the earth’s power. Margaret also likes that weather defies prediction. Meteorologists can get close, but there are no guarantees.

The world, Margaret thinks, is full of surprises.

Margaret’s ex-husband, Kelley Quinn, has prostate cancer. He was diagnosed just before Christmas, which made for another muted, maudlin holiday. Margaret was tempted to take a leave of absence from the network in order to manage Kelley’s care, but Kelley’s estranged wife, Mitzi, returned to the fold and is now very much in charge. After twenty years of barely concealed animosity, Margaret and Mitzi have come to a place of peace, bordering on friendship, and Margaret would like to keep it that way-so she’s backed off. She gets updates every day or two from her daughter, Ava. Kelley’s cancer is contained; it hasn’t metastasized. He has been traveling back and forth to the Cape five days a week for his radiation treatments. Mitzi goes with him most days, although she’s made no secret of the fact that she finds the radiation aggressive. She would prefer Kelley to treat his cancer holistically with herbs, kale smoothies, massage, energy work, and sleep.

Margaret bites her tongue.

One thing that Margaret knows will make both Kelley and Mitzi feel better is getting definitive news about their son, Bart, who has been missing in Afghanistan since December of 2014. Margaret checks her computer first thing each morning for briefs from the DoD. One soldier from Bart’s platoon, William Burke, escaped to safety, but he remains at Walter Reed in Bethesda. He sustained life-threatening head trauma and, hence, the DoD has no new intelligence about where the rest of the troops are, or even if they’re alive.

But they might soon, Margaret guesses. Assuming the kid makes it.

The winter months are mild, a welcome change from the year before, and spring arrives right on time in the second half of March. It’s not a false spring either, but a real, true spring, the kind portrayed in picture books-with bunny rabbits, budding trees, children on swing sets. Margaret’s apartment overlooks Central Park and by the first of April, the park is a lush green carpet accented by bursts of color-beds of tulips, daffodils, hyacinths, iris. Model yachts skim across Conservatory Pond. There are soaking rain showers at night so that in the morning when Margaret steps out of her apartment building and into the waiting car, driven by Raoul, the city looks shellacked and the air feels scrubbed clean.

It’s a good spring. Kelley will be fine, Margaret tells herself. Their son Patrick is set to be released from jail on the first of June. He already has a handful of investors and he plans to open his own boutique investment firm. How he managed this from inside the lockup, Margaret isn’t sure. She made him promise her that, from here on out, everything he does will be legal.

Margaret’s granddaughter, Genevieve, is growing and changing each day. She can now sit up, and technology is so advanced that when Margaret and Kevin connect on FaceTime, Margaret can wave and coo and watch Genevieve laugh. Kevin and Isabelle are busy with the inn, which, thanks to the clement weather, has been filled to capacity since the middle of March.

But what is really painting Margaret’s world pink is that she’s in love. Dr. Drake Carroll has changed from a sometime lover to her constant companion, best friend, and fiancé. They’d both vowed to make time for the relationship to grow. Margaret had wondered if she would be able to keep her promise, and then she’d wondered if Drake would be able to keep his-but she has been pleasantly surprised at how organic and natural it is to be part of a couple again. Weeknights, they stay at Margaret’s apartment, and weekends, they’re at Drake’s. They go out to dinner downtown at places picked by Margaret’s assistant, Darcy, who is a wizard at finding the most fun and delicious spots in the city-the Lion, Saxon and Parole, Jeffrey’s Grocery, Uncle Boons. They’ve been to the theater three times, and they work out side by side at the gym; on Sundays, they order in Vietnamese food and watch old movies. Drake sends Margaret flowers at the studio; he writes I love you in soap on the bathroom mirror. Margaret is besotted. When you’re in love, every day is like a present you get to open.

Margaret’s daughter, Ava, wants to take a trip, just the two of them, before Margaret gets married. It will be a bachelorette trip to celebrate the end of Margaret’s freedom! Ava says.

Margaret is lukewarm on the idea. The last thing she needs at her age is a bachelorette celebration. She harks back to a very drunken night nearly forty years earlier that found her roaming the West Village with her six bridesmaids. Alison, the leader of Margaret’s bachelorette foray, had insisted they stop at a bar to hear acoustic guitar music and then further insisted that Margaret join the singer-a very cute guy with shoulder-length hair and a naughty gleam in his eye-onstage to sing “American Pie.” Margaret impressed the crowd and the band so much with her voice and her knowledge of the lyrics that she got a standing ovation, and the lead singer asked if he could take her home.

No, Margaret had said. She had been genuinely confused. I’m the one getting married.

Obviously any trip with Ava would be a far cry from that, but at her age, even the word bachelorette makes Margaret cringe.

But one day, as she’s kicking it up a notch on the treadmill, Margaret is struck by a realization. This trip Ava is suggesting isn’t for Margaret-it’s for Ava.

Her daughter needs her.

AVA

Using her mother’s credit card and her mother’s assistant, Darcy-who has an inexplicably deep reservoir of general knowledge, considering her young age-Ava books five nights in adjoining ocean-view suites at the Malliouhana resort in Anguilla over her spring break.

She needs to get off the island of Nantucket.

Her love life is in a state of emergency.

Through the winter and into the spring, she has been unable to choose between Nathaniel and Scott and so she dates them both. Has anyone on God’s green planet ever successfully dated two men at once? Oh yeah? Well, how about on an island that is thirteen miles long and four miles wide? One night, when Ava was out with Scott at a romantic dinner at Company of the Cauldron, Nathaniel walked by outside, saw Ava, and started waving like a madman. He then proceeded to take a lengthy phone call right outside the window, directly in Ava’s line of sight. Ava wanted Nathaniel to leave so she could finish her dinner with Scott in peace, but she also wanted to know who Nathaniel was on the phone with. He seemed to be laughing pretty hard. Another time, when Ava was with Nathaniel at Cisco Brewers having a Winter Shredder and listening to the Four Easy Payments, Scott walked in with Roxanne Oliveria, aka Mz. Ohhhhhh, who still had a slight limp from breaking her ankle in December.

Scott said, “Hi, Ava.”

Roxanne said, “Oh, hello, Ava.”

Ava sipped her Shredder and said nothing. Nathaniel raised a hand to Scott and said, “Hey there, Scotty boy,” in a tone of voice that announced his victory. Roxanne smiled at Ava in a way that announced her victory, and then she requested “Brown-Eyed Girl,” a choice Ava found overplayed and obvious. Ava bumped knees with Nathaniel under the table, and although he certainly wanted to stay and make Scott uncomfortable, he asked for the check.

Ava has told Nathaniel and Scott that she is dating both of them, and she makes it clear they are free to date other people. Nathaniel says he has no interest in anyone but Ava. This is an effective strategy, especially since Ava has had trust issues with Nathaniel in the past and has, on occasion, questioned his devotion. On nights when Ava goes out with Scott, Nathaniel either stops in at the Bar with his crew or stays home and reads Harlan Coben novels; he always texts her when he’s hitting the hay. When Ava is out with Nathaniel, Scott goes out with Roxanne. This is also an effective strategy. Ava suspected that Roxanne was making a play for Scott, but she’d never believed Scott would fall for it. When Ava is at school, she will sometimes see Roxanne emerging from the main office wearing one of her low-cut blouses and a tight pencil skirt and absurd wedge heels. Roxanne teaches English at the high school-two buildings away-and there is no reason why she should be at the elementary school except to lean over Scott’s desk and let her long hair fall into her cleavage. Ava can’t believe the superintendent hasn’t spoken to Roxanne about the provocative way she dresses, and Ava can’t believe Roxanne still insists on wearing heels even after she’s broken her ankle on the cobblestones of Federal Street. Ava’s real problem, however, is jealousy. She is insanely jealous of Roxanne. Roxanne is beautiful and alluring; the wedge heels make her calves look amazing. Roxanne has also, apparently, revealed her vulnerable side to Scott, something he is unable to resist. Roxanne has been through three broken engagements-Fiancé One was gay, Fiancé Two was a cheater, and Fiancé Three died in a surfing accident while on vacation in San Diego. Roxanne’s loss of the third fiancé leaves Ava unable to hate her. Scott confided to her that Roxanne still sees a therapist to cope with Gunner’s death, and she bursts into tears over strange things-orange sunsets, the smell of lily of the valley, the song “Last Nite” by the Strokes.

Both Nathaniel and Scott have been available and supportive for Ava throughout Bart’s continued absence and Kelley’s illness. Nathaniel is better at doing things-he is the one who picks up Kelley and Mitzi from the boat or the airport after radiation; he is the one who wakes up early every day to check the DoD website to see if William Burke has made any medical progress or if any other troops from Bart’s platoon have escaped. Scott is better at talking-he asks Ava how she feels about Kelley’s illness (although outwardly optimistic, inwardly she’s terrified); how she feels about Bart’s disappearance (although outwardly optimistic, especially in front of Kelley and Mitzi, inwardly she’s terrified).

Together, Nathaniel and Scott are the perfect partner. Ava would like to live with them both forever or be married to each of them on alternating weeks. But since that practice isn’t acceptable in Western cultures, Ava will have to choose, and she can’t choose.

She needs time away with the wisest woman she knows.

Are there any woes that a five-star hotel in the Caribbean can’t fix? The Malliouhana resort is set amid lush, impeccably manicured gardens that are silent but for the sound of a gurgling waterfall and birdsong. The spa is down one winding brick path, the fitness center down another. The lobby is Moroccan inspired, with marble floors and rattan ceiling fans and gracious arches that frame the expansive view of the turquoise sea. Ava is further charmed by their connecting suites-pencil-post beds with crisp linens and piles of fluffy white pillows, enormous soaking tubs, French champagne in the minibar, and a bright orange hammock chair on the balcony.

Who needs Nathaniel? Who needs Scott? Here, Ava has to decide only between her Jane Green novel and her Anita Shreve; between the hotel’s infinity pool and one of three secluded beach coves; between rum punch and a glass of chilled rosé.

The first morning, Ava runs down the mile-long white crescent of sand that is Meads Bay, then, at the Viceroy hotel, she cuts in and runs another mile down the road. She passes a man, her age or a little older, who is wearing a Nantucket T-shirt and a hat from Cisco Brewers. Ava scowls-she can’t get away! Nantucket is everywhere, even here on Anguilla! She gives the man a lame wave, then picks up her pace.

Margaret has gone to the fitness center and they meet for breakfast at ten o’clock in the open-air restaurant, both of them still in their workout clothes. At the buffet, Ava piles her plate with pineapple, papaya, and mango, whereas Margaret dives into the French cheeses, the ham, salami, and pâté, and the warm croissants. The woman can eat whatever she wants and never gain an ounce.

Ava sees the man in the Nantucket T-shirt sitting in the restaurant with a much-older gentleman, probably his father or his uncle or his boss. Margaret notices the Nantucket T-shirt and says to him, “Oh, my daughter lives on Nantucket!”

“No, Mom,” Ava says, but it’s too late, of course. The man whips off his hat and stands up.

He says, “You’re Margaret Quinn.”

Ava closes her eyes. She loves how her mother rolls through life like she’s a normal person, seemingly unaware that every single soul in America-in the world, practically-recognizes her as the anchor of the CBS Evening News.

Margaret doesn’t respond. Instead, she nudges Ava forward. “This is Ava,” Margaret says. “She teaches music at the Nantucket Elementary School. Her father-my ex-husband-owns and operates the Winter Street Inn.”

“Mom, he doesn’t care,” Ava says.

“No, I do care,” the man says. “I’m Potter Lyons, and this is my grandfather, whose name is also Potter Lyons, but everyone calls him Gibby.” Potter smiles at Ava. “I love Nantucket better than any place on earth. I go every August for Race Week. Do you sail?”

“We put her in sailing camp when she was seven years old,” Margaret says. “There was a bully on her boat and she refused to go back. She hasn’t sailed since.” Margaret puts a thoughtful finger to her lips and turns to Ava. “Except that one summer when you sailed in the Opera House Cup.”

Mom, he doesn’t care! Ava thinks. He’s only appearing interested because it’s Margaret Quinn talking and she has a talent for making the mundane details of Ava’s growing-up sound like national news.

Ava smiles at Potter and Gibby. “Confirmed,” she says. “The bully’s name was Alex, and in 2009, I sailed in the Opera House Cup on the Shamrock.”

“They rent Sunfish here, down on the beach,” Potter said. “It’s not the Shamrock, but let me know if you want to go for a sail. I’d love to take you out.”

Ava stares down at her plate of fruit. Her face is most likely the color of the papaya.

“Nice to meet you,” she says. She leads her mother across the restaurant to the table farthest from Potter and Gibby.

“I think he likes you!” Margaret whispers.

No, Ava thinks. He likes you.

They bump into Potter and Gibby again at lunchtime at a place down the beach called Blanchards. Blanchards is a beach shack, and at first Ava is thrilled with the find. She and Margaret walk up to the counter in their bare feet and ask for one grilled mahimahi BLT with smoked-tomato tartar sauce, one order of shrimp tacos, and two sides of coleslaw. And while they’re at it-two passion-fruit daiquiris.

Ava is so in love with the beach shack that she takes a picture of the menu and texts it to Kevin, saying, You could do this at home! Quinns’ on the Beach! Kevin and Isabelle are running the inn, but Kevin has been looking for a second business opportunity. This is it! Ava thinks. Isabelle is a fantastic cook; she will be able to figure out the smoked-tomato tartar sauce, no problem.

Ava’s reverie is interrupted by Potter and Gibby. “You’ve discovered our secret,” Potter says. “We’ve eaten here six days straight.”

“Jonum, phtzplz,” Margaret says. Ava puts a hand on her mother’s arm. The last thing Margaret needs is to be photographed with her mouth full of shrimp taco. She’ll end up front and center in Us Weekly’s “Stars-They’re Just Like Us!” (They talk with their mouths full!) Besides, Ava fears Margaret was trying to say Join us, please.

“We’re almost done,” Ava says, though she’s taken only two bites of her heavenly sandwich.

“Hey, do you want to go for that sail later?” Potter asks.

Ava looks up at him. He’s wearing orange board shorts and a white polo shirt. He has a little bit of gray in his dark hair, and his eyes seem very blue, probably thanks to his tan. He’s way too handsome for her. He must be pursuing her because she’s Margaret Quinn’s daughter.

“Let me see how I feel later,” she says.

The blue eyes light up. “Great!” he says.

When he and Gibby walk away, Margaret says, “You’d be a fool not to go.”

“Mom,” Ava says. “I have too many men in my life as it is.”

“Sometimes what you need is a fresh perspective,” Margaret says. “Go for a sail. It’s not like you’re marrying the guy.”

Ava decides to ignore the fact that Potter is so good-looking and go for the sail. The first thing that happens is that the wind whips Potter’s Cisco Brewers hat right off his head, and before either of them can react, it’s dancing off toward the horizon.

“My favorite hat!” Potter says.

“Don’t worry,” Ava says. “I’ll get you another one.”

Potter Lyons is thirty-six years old. He’s divorced and has a five-year-old son, also named Potter Lyons (though he goes by PJ), who lives with his mother in Palo Alto, California. Potter has a doctorate in American literature and teaches English at Columbia University. He wrote his dissertation on Jules Verne, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, and he teaches the most popular class in the department, which is entitled the Nautical Novel: From the Odyssey to Spartina. He lives in a three-bedroom condo on the Upper West Side, only ten blocks north of Margaret, and he owns a sailboat, Cassandra, which he docks on the Hudson.

“Was Cassandra your wife?” Ava asks.

“My grandmother,” he says.

Potter then tells her that his parents were killed in a car accident when he was in high school, and his grandparents-Gibby and Cassandra-took over raising him.

“My grandmother died a few months ago,” Potter says. “So I planned this trip for Gibby. He needed to get away.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ava says.

“But enough about me,” Potter says with a grin. “What do you think of me?”

Ava laughs. She thinks he’s charming and smart, and she loves that he brought his grandfather on vacation.

“Just kidding,” he says. “I want to hear about Ava.”

“We’d have to sail to Cuba and back,” she says.

He says, “I like complicated women. But just start by answering me this: Are you single?”

“No,” she says. “I have two serious boyfriends.” She is embarrassed by how absurd this sounds. “I love them both. I can’t decide between them.”

“Well, you know what that means,” Potter says.

“What?”

He winks at her.

By the time Ava and Potter pull the boat back onto the shore, Ava has a fresh perspective: There are men everywhere-cute and smart and successful and available. Her choices aren’t limited to Nathaniel and Scott.

She really likes Potter, for example.

“Do you want to meet for a drink later?” she asks.

“It’s our last night,” Potter says. “I think I’d better keep it just me and Gibby.”

“Oh,” Ava says. “All right.” She feels a little… stung. How is this possible? She’s been alone with this guy for only an hour. She wonders if she said something that turned him off. Possibly the thing about two serious boyfriends.

She hastens back to the infinity pool, where she finds Margaret lying on her chaise, eyes at half-mast. Ava is very proud of her mother. She works at her laptop for only an hour in the early morning, and she calls Drake every night before bed. Margaret is nothing if not disciplined, and on this trip she has been very disciplined about relaxing.

“How was the sail?” she asks. “Helpful?”

“Sort of,” Ava says.

That night, Margaret and Ava wander down the beach to a place called Straw Hat, where all of the chandeliers are made of straw hats. It’s the most charming thing Ava has ever seen, although she wonders when the hats will catch fire.

Ava drinks too much at dinner and starts to cry. “How did you know about Dad?” she asks Margaret. “How did you know he was the one you wanted to marry?”

“I was young and in love,” Margaret says. “I didn’t think about it. When he asked, of course I said yes. Kelley was amazing. He’s still amazing. We wanted all the same things. We wanted careers in New York, we wanted a brownstone on the Upper East Side, we wanted three or four children. And guess what? We got everything we wanted, but we couldn’t handle it. One of us had to give in, to concede, and that ended up being your father.” Margaret takes a sip of wine. “A better question was how I decided about Drake, because I was very unsure for a long time. But then I realized that all marriages are a leap of faith. You love as hard as you can, you try to think of the other person first, and you hope for the best.”

“What does it mean that I can’t pick between them?” Ava says. “I like them both exactly the same amount, but for different reasons.”

Margaret smiles. “I think it means you should keep your options open.”

Ava and Margaret decide to have a nightcap at the bar at the hotel-and there, sitting alone, is Potter.

“Actually,” Margaret says, “I should call Drake. He has an early surgery tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll head up to the room,” Ava says. “I don’t want to sit here by myself.” But at that instant, Potter sees Ava and waves hello. Or maybe he’s waving her over; Ava can’t tell.

“I’ll just say good night now,” Margaret says. “I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart.”

Ava watches her mother leave the bar and she nearly follows her out, but in another second, she’s taking the stool next to Potter and ordering a glass of sauvignon blanc.

“Put that on my room,” Potter says to the bartender. He smiles at Ava. “I was hoping I would see you here. Gibby went up to bed.”

Ava’s heart is a hummingbird.

Potter says, “What do you say we go for a walk on the beach? It’s a beautiful night.”

Ava sees no harm in a walk. There is a half-moon shining on the water, and the sound of piano music from another hotel floats down to the sand. They decide they’ll walk to the Viceroy and back; that should be enough time for Ava to describe her dilemma. She tells Potter everything: how she had been dating Nathaniel for two years and he took her for granted, how he went away the Christmas before last and maybe slept with his old girlfriend or maybe didn’t-Ava has never been brave enough to ask him-but while he was away, she hooked up with Scott, the assistant principal at the school where she teaches. She’d always known Scott liked her but she had never thought him sexy or desirable until… until he was nearly matched up with someone else. She dated Scott happily for a year while Nathaniel was conveniently away, working on Martha’s Vineyard, and then, as luck would have it, Nathaniel returned to Nantucket on the very day that Scott went on this weird do-good mission with this other hot teacher who had broken her ankle. That was in December, Ava tells Potter, and since then, she has been dating both of them, openly. Her best friend, Shelby, thinks she’s a wizard for living every woman’s fantasy, but Ava is feeling torn in half every second of every day. She would like to feel whole.

“Wow,” Potter says.

“I’ve talked too much,” Ava says. They are nearly at the Viceroy; time to turn around. Potter is probably dying to get away.

“Not at all,” Potter says. He reaches for her hand. Ava thinks maybe he hasn’t been listening. She is torn between two other men… and yet Potter is now holding her hand. His hand is large and warm and strong-more like Scott’s hand than Nathaniel’s, although not really like Scott’s hand at all-and holding it feels good. It feels like a fresh perspective.

“Why did you and your wife split?” Ava asks.

“We’re both in academia,” Potter says. “She’s a Shakespeare scholar, which is not an uncrowded field, I’ll tell you, and competition for spots is fierce. She got offered a tenure-track position at Stanford and I had the same at Columbia, but since I’d been working there longer, my salary was nearly double hers. At the time, PJ was two years old and couldn’t be separated from Trish, so he went with her. We both sort of thought we might be able to make a bicoastal marriage work, but it didn’t go that way. She fell in love with one of her teaching assistants.”

“Oh,” Ava says. “Ouch.”

“He’s British,” Potter says. “She loves the accent.”

They’re almost back to the hotel but Ava doesn’t want the walk to end. She says, “Look, there’s our Sunfish!”

Potter says, “Would you like to sit for a minute?”

Potter kisses Ava as she sits on the bow of the Sunfish, just once, an exploratory mission, it seems, then they kiss again. And again.

Potter pulls away. “I’d love to see you the next time you come to the city,” he says. “Or this summer on Nantucket. Can I give you my number?”

“Yes,” Ava says. “And your address. I’m going to send you a new hat.”

JENNIFER

She drives to exit 5 on Route 3 South, pulls into the parking lot of the Mayflower Deli, and waits. At a quarter after twelve, the black pickup drives up and parks beside her. Jennifer removes the envelope of cash from her purse and gets out of the car, scanning the lot for police or anyone who might be undercover. She casually walks to the driver’s side. She hands Norah the envelope, and Norah hands Jennifer a Bayer aspirin bottle that contains fifty oxycodone pills.

Norah says, “When does Paddy get out?”

“June first,” Jennifer says.

Norah’s expression is sympathetic and Jennifer softens toward her former sister-in-law. Gone are the days when Jennifer could claim some kind of moral superiority. Now, sadly, Norah is one of the most important people in Jennifer’s life-her dealer. Jennifer had meant to quit the oxy after the holidays, but then she was faced with the quiet, cold weeks of January, and February brought Valentine’s Day and her husband was still incarcerated. Then came March, with its surprisingly beautiful weather. Everyone in Boston had spring fever. The sidewalk cafés were packed; lovers held hands and lay on blankets on the Boston Common. Jennifer could see them from the window of her townhouse on Beacon Street. The sight depressed her. Then in April, Jennifer took the boys away for spring break-to San Francisco to visit her mother. There was no way she could handle a week with her mother without pharmaceutical help. So now she finds herself in May still buying drugs from Norah. Meanwhile, she’s trying to parent three boys and run her interior design business. Today she has two large Kangxi blue-and-white porcelain vases, valued at over twenty-five grand apiece, in the back of her Volvo to deliver to a client in Duxbury.

“So will you be wanting any more, do you think?” Norah asks. Their implicit understanding has been that this new relationship of theirs will end once Patrick gets out of jail. Norah seems to be asking for confirmation of that. Does Norah possibly sense that Jennifer has become an addict? Well, yes, there is dependency, obviously, but is it permanent? Jennifer has blithely chosen to believe that once Patrick is back in the house, once he is back working, making money, helping out with the boys, and sleeping next to Jennifer in bed, there will be no need for the pills. Patrick’s return will be her drug. Most likely, Norah is concerned only for her own welfare. Her lifestyle has certainly improved with this new line of work. Jennifer can hardly be her sole client; Norah is probably supplying pills to half the housewives between Mashpee and Mansfield. Her appearance has changed. She has started wearing Eileen Fisher in an eerie-or perhaps flattering?-echo of Jennifer herself. Norah Vale, once all denim and leather, is now silk and linen. And she’s got on earrings that Jennifer recognizes as Jessica Hicks. Wow. At this rate, Jennifer might soon be Norah’s decorator. The thought isn’t all that outlandish.

Okay, Jennifer thinks, time to leave.

“I have to scoot,” she says. “I have two Chinese vases waiting to meet their new parents.”

“So this is it, then?” Norah says. She eyes the front of the deli. “You don’t want to go in and grab a sandwich real quick, do you?”

Jennifer is touched, but also alarmed, mostly at her own feelings of fear and regret. She has grown to sort of like Norah now that their connection has nothing to do with the Quinn family, and she will miss their weekly meetings, in a way.

“I’ll call you the next time I’m on the island,” Jennifer says.

Norah’s face falls. Both she and Jennifer know Jennifer will never call. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t.

“Okay, then,” Norah says. “See you around.”

KELLEY

The week after his final radiation treatment, Kelley returns to Mass. General for an MRI to determine if his cancer is gone. After a tense five-day wait, Dr. Cherith-a med-school classmate of Margaret’s fiancé, Dr. Drake Carroll, as it turns out-calls to say Kelley appears to be in the clear.

“Cancer gone,” Dr. Cherith says. “No guarantees, of course. But for now, safe to say you beat it.”

After he hangs up, Kelley takes a deep yoga breath, then exhales in an Om, the way Mitzi has taught him. Gratitude to Mother Earth, gratitude to God above. He has beaten it. It wasn’t easy; prostate cancer isn’t glamorous. Kelley spent over a month in adult diapers, a fact he’d like to forget as soon as possible. And the radiation exhausted him. Thank God Mitzi had left George and come back to him. She took complete control of his treatment and made every decision. She brought Kelley breakfast in bed each morning-organic acai bowls with fruit and seeds and nuts-and every night, she read to him. They got through the first three Harry Potters, books Kelley had longed to read-he loved magical fantasy stories-but back when they were published, his kids were far too old for them and his grandchildren not old enough. Mitzi has a wonderful reading voice-clear and expressive-and at one point, Kelley had rolled toward her and said, “Have you ever considered a career in broadcasting?”

She glowered at him. “I’m Mitzi, Kelley. Not Margaret.”

“I know that,” Kelley had said, although he then realized he’d gotten mixed up for a second. That was another side effect of the radiation: mental confusion. Kelley had such intense dreams that he sometimes mistook them for reality. In the most vivid, the U.S. military made contact with members of the Afghan rebel group Bely, the faction that was holding Bart and his comrades prisoner, and asked what they would accept in exchange for the soldiers. The Bely had responded that they wanted Leonardo DiCaprio and a hundred dozen Mrs. Fields chocolate chip cookies. The transaction had gone through and Bart had come home, whole and unharmed, unmarred except for a tattoo of a star on his cheek. Mitzi had screamed-her baby’s face!-but Kelley had simply gathered his son into his arms, kissed the star, and thought, I am never letting this kid go. When Kelley woke up, he’d experienced that particular elation one feels when something valuable that has been lost is returned. But then, upon realizing it was just a dream, Kelley fell back into his shallow pool of despair. William Burke, from Bart’s platoon, is still unconscious. Back in February, he had been transported from Landstuhl in Germany to Walter Reed in Bethesda and the whole world is waiting for his condition to improve. Kelley had toyed with the idea of going to Bethesda himself to visit William Burke-Kelley had just enough hubris to believe that his presence might be the very thing to snatch Private Burke from the jaws of darkness. But Mitzi told Kelley the idea was impractical. He had to fight his own battle.

He has fought the battle and emerged victorious!

He will tell everyone the news soon enough. But first, Kelley is going to walk down Main Street to the Nantucket Pharmacy lunch counter, where he will order the ham-and-pickle sandwich on rye bread and a chocolate frappe. He has been dreaming of this exact lunch for months, but it has remained a fantasy. While he was sick, Mitzi put him on an organic vegetarian diet.

If Kelley never sees a leaf of kale again, it will be too soon.

KEVIN

After breakfast most days, Kevin takes his daughter, Genevieve, to Children’s Beach and pushes her on the baby swing. It’s his favorite hour of the day. As soon as he releases Genevieve from the straps of the stroller, she starts kicking her legs and making hoots of anticipation. Then, once she’s buckled into the swing and Kevin pushes her, she starts to belly-laugh. The other parents at Children’s Beach are all mothers and they comment on what a gorgeous baby Genevieve is and what a devoted father Kevin seems to be. On the one hand, this makes Kevin feel like a superstar-the mothers anticipate his arrival at the park and compete for his attention-but on the other, it makes him feel like a loser. He’s here at the park with the mothers. Their husbands are at work. Kevin, too, should be at work.

For over a year, Kevin and Isabelle have been running the Winter Street Inn. Kevin assumed Mitzi’s duties when Mitzi left, and then when Kelley got sick, he took over Kelley’s duties as well. But two weeks earlier, Kelley was given a clean bill of health. He and Mitzi are back together and, suddenly, there are three jobs for four people. Isabelle is indispensable-she is the cook and the housekeeping manager. All Kevin has proved useful for is taking the heavy loads of dirty linen down to the basement.

Kevin needs another job. He toys with going back to the Bar, but the day shift doesn’t bring in any tips, and if he works at night, he’ll never see Isabelle. A few weeks earlier, Margaret and Ava went to Anguilla on vacation and Ava texted Kevin a photo of a beach shack where they ate lunch every day. She said: You could do this at home! Quinns’ on the Beach! Kevin had studied the menu. Grilled-fish sandwiches, tacos, rice bowls, flatbreads, salads, frozen drinks, ice cream. Ava’s right; Nantucket needs a place like this. There is the Jetties on the north shore-and what a gold mine that place has turned out to be-but the south shore, which is where all the teenagers and college kids hang out, is a lunch wasteland. The shack on Surfside Beach used to sell hamburgers, hot dogs, and ice pops but it shut down a few years ago. Could Kevin take over the lease and turn it into something better than it had ever been?

It wouldn’t hurt to find out.

His thoughts of striped-bass BLTs are interrupted by Haven Silva, a girl Kevin went to high school with and who is now one of the Children’s Beach mommies. Haven has gained a lot of clout with the other mothers because she knows Kevin from another life. The two of them are in a private club, of sorts; they both grew up on the island. Haven really grew up here-was born and raised-as opposed to Kevin, who summered on Nantucket from infancy to age fourteen, when he moved here year-round. Kevin marvels at how his fellow islanders feel like family to him. He remembers Haven with braces; he remembers that she left for boarding school at Tabor in their sophomore year but was back by Christmas because her younger brother, Danny, had had a seizure during recess and died. Kevin had gone to the funeral; the whole island had gone to the funeral. After college, Haven returned to Nantucket. She waitressed at the Lobster Trap for a while, then took the office-manager position at Don Allen Ford. Her mother died, and Haven moved back in with her father-and in this way, Haven and Kevin were in similar boats. But in recent years, they agreed, the gods have smiled upon them. Haven married a mechanic and had a little boy she named Daniel, after her brother. Kevin got together with Isabelle and had Genevieve.

“Kev,” Haven says. “Do you have a second?”

“What’s up?” Kevin says.

Haven positions herself just behind Kevin’s right ear, out of the way of the trajectory of Genevieve’s swing. Kevin does a daddy-scan of the playground. He sees the other mothers-Deborah, Rebecca, Wendy-sneaking glances at him and Haven. Haven’s son, Daniel, is in the sandbox playing with his front-end loader.

“I heard a rumor about someone you know,” Haven says. “And I think it’s legit. Something Norm heard at the shop.”

Kevin is, admittedly, a part of this little mom clique but he draws the line at gossiping with them. He doesn’t want to hear any rumors. However, his immediate next thought is: What could it be? In general, the Quinn family has combated rumors by just coming out and telling the truth. Yes, Patrick went to jail for insider trading. Yes, Bart has been taken prisoner in Afghanistan. Yes, Mitzi left their father for George the Santa Claus. Yes, Ava is dating both Nathaniel Oscar and Scott Skyler. Yes, Kelley has prostate cancer. Yes, Mitzi came back to Kelley. Yes, Kelley’s cancer is in remission. What else is there? Kevin wonders if the rumor is about Isabelle. She has never once brought Genevieve to the park. He realizes the other mothers wonder about this.

“Do I even want to know?” Kevin says.

Haven twists her mouth. “Probably not. I’ve sat on this a couple days already. If you don’t want to hear, tell me to go away.”

“What is it?” Kevin says. He pushes Genevieve and she coos with delight. Nothing Haven Silva tells him can ruin this moment.

“It’s about Norah Vale,” Haven says.

“Oh, come on,” Kevin says. Norah Vale is Kevin’s ex-wife, the person he cares about least in the world. He wouldn’t give her a second’s attention except that Norah has moved back to Nantucket for a seemingly indefinite period, so every time Kevin leaves the house-to go to the grocery store or the gas station-it’s like a game of dodgeball. He can’t bump into her, even accidentally. Isabelle will kill him. Every so often, Kevin will see Norah’s black pickup on the road, but he keeps his eyes straight ahead. He won’t bother to lift two fingers from the steering wheel in greeting.

“I guess she’s got quite a drug-dealing operation going,” Haven says. “Pharmaceuticals.”

Kevin shakes his head. “That’s so unsurprising, I can’t believe it even counts as gossip.”

“She has a bunch of high-end clients,” Haven says. “Apparently the ladies-who-summer are washing Vicodins down with those bottles of rosé when they have lunch at the Galley.”

“Good for Norah,” Kevin says. He doesn’t even like saying her name out loud. “She found a niche market.”

“The story gets worse,” Haven says.

Kevin closes his eyes.

“I guess. And this is only what I heard, Kev…”

“What?” he says impatiently. He can guarantee he doesn’t want to hear the next sentence out of Haven Silva’s mouth.

“One of her clients is your sister-in-law.”

“My…” It takes Kevin a second. His sister-in-law? Which sister-in-law? No, wait, there is only one: Jennifer. “Jennifer? Patrick’s wife, Jennifer?”

“That’s what I heard,” Haven says. “I thought you’d want to know.”

Kevin finds Haven’s tone so irritating that his first instinct is to tell her that she’s part of the problem. Probably she has shared this juicy nugget with all of the other mothers here at Children’s Beach. Norah Vale, his ex-wife, is purportedly selling pills to his sister-in-law, Jennifer. Jennifer hates Norah. Even when they were part of the same family, Jennifer didn’t have a nice word for Norah. And vice versa.

But Kevin applies his verbal brakes. He can’t lose his temper with Haven Silva. First of all, she’s telling him only because he should know the rumor is out there. Second, and far more important, Haven’s uncle Chester Silva is one of Nantucket’s five selectmen, and if Kevin wants to lease the Surfside shack, he’s going to need Chester’s support.

Kevin smiles at Haven and the smile is sincere. She named her son after her beloved younger brother, taken from them too soon. She is a good person.

“I doubt it’s true,” Kevin says. He lifts Genevieve out of the swing and she squawks in protest. “But thank you for letting me know.”