Winter Stroll

DRAKE

Margaret tells Drake that she can’t stay at the party.

“I don’t want to see Kelley and Mitzi again tonight if I don’t have to,” Margaret says. “Kelley will know something is up. He’ll see it on my face.”

Drake fetches Margaret’s coat and they walk back to the inn. Once there, they head straight up to room 10.

She immediately logs on to her laptop. “Nothing,” she says. “There’s nothing.” She dials into her office voicemail and listens to the message herself. She emits a huff of frustration when she hangs up. “It’s like a taunt,” she says. “He calls to tell me there’s news but he doesn’t tell me what it is. This is a recurring bad dream particular to journalists. Great source, inside source calling, and… the line goes dead.”

“How did he sound?” Drake asks. “Tone of voice-good news, bad news?”

“The line was staticky,” Margaret says. “And it sounded like he was whispering. But if I had to pin it down I’d say he sounded… excited. It’s nearly a year later and finally they have some news, so of course he’s excited.” She frowns at Drake. “What could the news be? One of the kids was executed and the Bely are releasing a video? Or… the DoD has finally located the kids and they’re sending in a team?”

Both sound equally feasible to Drake. He’d like to side with optimism but the headlines of the past year give him nothing to feel hopeful about.

“We have to wait,” he says. “Keep your phone on, by the side of the bed.”

“Obviously,” Margaret says, “I can’t tell Kelley.”

“That’s right,” Drake says. “Because there’s nothing to tell.”

Margaret turns her back to Drake so he can help her with the zipper of her dress. She says, “I haven’t forgotten about your question.”

He says, “I know you haven’t.”

They climb into bed and he holds her tightly. He hopes Kelley and Mitzi are having a good time. He thought they looked happy together.

Good news, he thinks as he falls asleep. Let it be good news.

AVA

One kiss under the stars; that was all it was. As she climbs into the car with Mitzi and her father after the party, she tells herself it was a kiss good-bye.

Nathaniel had said, When can I see you again?

Ava had said, You can’t.

Nathaniel had said, How about tomorrow?

Ava had said, Genevieve’s baptism is tomorrow. I’m the godmother.

Nathaniel had said, Will Scott be there?

Ava had hesitated, then said, Yes, Scott will be there.

After Ava gets to her bedroom and takes off the green velvet gown, she texts Scott, I’m home. I love you.

There is no response, but then again, it’s quite late. Scott is probably fast asleep.

KEVIN

He drives around for over an hour, searching the streets for the red Jeep he bought Isabelle in the spring. License plate M89 K17, oval sticker from the Bar on the back window. He checks every street in town and then he checks the house on Friendship Lane that has the enormous Christmas light display with the big blowup Grinch, the colony of North Pole penguins, the Snoopy Santa climbing the roof, and a train that winds through the entire front yard on a figure-eight track. The Jeep is not in town, and it’s not at the Christmas-lights house. Kevin drives by the grocery store, thinking maybe the inn has run out of eggs or cream or coffee. But Isabelle’s Jeep isn’t in the store parking lot. Kevin drives past the Bar and considers stopping in for a beer to calm his nerves. He sees there’s a long line at the door to get in. It’s Christmas Stroll weekend; there will be a live band playing. Norah might be there, but Isabelle and Genevieve most definitely will not.

Kevin drives down Hooper Farm Road, which is where Norah’s mother’s house is-a very plain saltbox with a scrubby, overgrown front yard and a couple of broken-down cars in the driveway, old taxis that Norah’s mother and her husband, Shang, used to drive. There are no lights on at the house. Kevin tries not to think how many times he sneaked in through the bulkhead door late at night when he and Norah were in high school.

He bangs his hands against the steering wheel in frustration, and then he drives home to see if Isabelle has returned.

Isabelle isn’t at the inn, and Kevin has run out of ideas. She doesn’t have any friends with whom she could crash for the night, does she? He can’t think of any. And she wouldn’t want to be out too late driving around with the baby. Has she gone to a hotel? It’s Stroll weekend; certainly, everything is booked. Kevin decides to try the Castle anyway. It’s right down the street from the inn; it would be a logical place for Isabelle to go.

Kevin approaches the front desk. There is a tall, dark-skinned gentleman working. His name tag says Livingston.

“Good evening, Livingston,” Kevin says. “I’m looking for my fiancée. I wonder if she has checked in here? Her name is Isabelle Beaulieu and she would have had an infant with her?”

Livingston is smooth and professional. His facial expression gives nothing away. Maybe Isabelle did check in; maybe she didn’t. Kevin knows immediately that Livingston isn’t going to tell him. “I’m sorry, I can’t provide any personal information about our guests,” Livingston says. “You’re looking for your fiancée, you say?”

“Yes,” Kevin says. He feels vaguely criminal. Why would his fiancée be checking into a hotel without him? Kevin imagines trying to explain to Livingston about Norah Vale. Maybe Livingston has a maleficent witch like Norah in his past?

“Well, I hope you find her,” Livingston says. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

Kevin holds up a hand. “No worries,” he says.

And yet, he has so many worries. His fiancée and his baby are missing, and the baptism is a mere twelve hours from now. Kevin needs a beer. He wanders into the restaurant attached to the hotel lobby-and there, at the bar, sitting with the same redhead Kevin saw him with at the pharmacy-is George.

“George?” Kevin says.

George swivels on his barstool and lets out a robust HO-HO-HO! George, it appears, is very drunk.

“Kevin, my boy!” he says. “Come have a seat! Mary Rose, this is Mitzi’s stepson, Kevin Quinn. Kevin, this lovely creature is Mary Rose Garth.”

Kevin smiles politely at the redhead. She has a cosmopolitan in front of her and Kevin, being a longtime bartender, guesses she’s from the Midwest. East Coast people stopped ordering cosmos when Sex and the City went off the air.

Kevin claps a hand on George’s shoulder. Kevin isn’t fond of being called my boy by anyone, including his own father, but he needs George’s help.

“George,” he says, “have you seen Isabelle and the baby? Have you seen them here at the hotel?”

“No,” George says, “can’t say that I have. Of course, I’ve barely been able to tear my eyes away from Mary Rose.”

Mary Rose giggles, then excuses herself for the ladies’ room. George stands as she leaves the bar, then he pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket and mops his florid face. “I take it Mitzi is spending the night with your father?”

“Oh jeez,” Kevin says, “I really have no idea.” If he had to guess, he would say yes. Kelley and Mitzi had looked pretty chummy at the party, pretty back together, and if Mitzi isn’t here at the hotel with George, then she must be at the inn. Kevin doesn’t have time to worry about his parents, however. “Listen, George, if you see Isabelle in the morning or later tonight, would you call me, please?” Kevin scribbles his phone number down on a cocktail napkin. George picks it up and looks at it through his bifocals. He’ll never call, Kevin thinks. As soon as Kevin leaves, he’ll blow his nose on the napkin.

George takes a second napkin and writes his number down. “Why don’t you give me a call and let me know if Mitzi is staying at the inn tonight.”

Kevin takes the napkin. “Will do,” he says, though they both know there’s no chance the other will follow through.

Kevin passes Mary Rose as he walks out of the restaurant. He nods. She winks at him. “You’re a cutie,” she whispers.

KELLEY

Kelley’s alarm goes off at six o’clock and he groans. He does not feel well. Mitzi rolls over and grabs him around the middle. “Hungover?” she says.

“I guess,” Kelley says. He had some champagne and a couple of glasses of red wine the night before, but he stayed away from the Jameson. He doesn’t feel hungover so much as achy and unwell. He hopes it’s not the flu, but if it is the flu, he’d like it to hold off until after the baptism and the luncheon.

“I have to get up,” Kelley says. “People want their breakfast.”

“Shall I come with you?” Mitzi asks. “Help out?”

Kelley stares at the ceiling. He had been telling himself this was just for the weekend but now it’s beginning to seem like Mitzi might be back more permanently. He’s not going to lie: He’s happy Mitzi is back. She belongs here. She is his wife. But is he just going to let her resume her old duties, her former role as wife and innkeeper? He isn’t sure what Isabelle will think of this; she’s been very quiet this weekend.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Kelley says.

“Please?” Mitzi says.

Kelley sighs. “Okay.”

Turns out Mitzi is needed in the kitchen because there is no sign of Kevin or Isabelle, which is highly unusual. Isabelle is the steadiest, most reliable worker Kelley has ever known. She was back cooking breakfast for guests when Genevieve was only four days old. Maybe she’s busy getting Genevieve ready for the baptism?

Kelley makes the coffee and Mitzi looks in the fridge. “Sausage?” she says. “And how about my banana French toast?”

“And some broiled grapefruit?” Kelley says.

“Mmmmmm,” Mitzi says.

Kelley is turning sausages on the griddle when Kevin walks into the kitchen. He’s still wearing his tuxedo, minus the jacket. His bow tie hangs loose.

“Whoa!” Kelley says. “Rough night?”

Kevin nods. “Isabelle and the baby are gone.”

“Gone?” Kelley says.

“Gone,” Kevin says.

MARGARET

She wakes up at five thirty in the morning. Honestly, it’s a miracle she slept at all. She checks her phone-nothing. Her laptop-nothing. She is anxious to email Neville Grey, but she doesn’t want to endanger him or compromise his confidence.

She calls her voicemail and listens to his message again: I was hoping to reach you on a secure landline… I can’t email… There is breaking news on the missing marines… I had really hoped to reach you…

That’s it. It is, essentially, nothing. Worse than nothing!

Margaret shoots Darcy a text: Have you heard anything?

She wouldn’t dream of texting any other twenty-six-year-old Brooklynite at five thirty on a Sunday morning, but she’s grooming Darcy for big things, and texts at any hour of any day are a part of their job. The news doesn’t sleep.

Sure enough, Darcy responds within seconds: Nothing. I’ve been up most of the night keeping an eye on the AP wire.

When Margaret gets back to New York tomorrow, she’s going to give Darcy a raise, even if it has to come out of her own paycheck.

Keep me posted, Margaret texts.

What time church? Darcy texts.

Eleven o’clock, Margaret texts. But text me anyway!

Darcy texts: You sure?

Margaret thinks about it. She will not check her phone during her granddaughter’s baptismal Mass. She texts, Just send the text and I’ll check right afterward.

You got it, boss, Darcy texts.

Margaret sets her phone on the nightstand and climbs back into bed.

Margaret is awakened by a knock on the door of their room. She hears Kelley’s voice. “Margaret!”

Drake raises his eyebrows in concern and Margaret wraps herself in one of the inn’s plush bathrobes.

Kelley has seen the news, then. And Margaret slept right through it.

Margaret opens the door. Kelley does not look good.

He says, “Isabelle and Genevieve are gone.”

“Gone?” Margaret says.

“Gone,” he says.

AVA

She hears her phone buzzing early, so early that Ava can’t stir to answer it. A little while later, it rings again. She tries to reach for it, but she’s too tired.

She hears a commotion in the hallway. Her father, her mother, Kevin. She opens one eye to check the clock. It’s not even eight. Why must everyone get up so early? Why must they conduct their conversation right outside Ava’s bedroom door? Ava hears the words “Genevieve” and “the Castle.” She hears Kelley say, “Mitzi will finish serving breakfast and clean up. I’ll go with Kevin to the airport.”

Airport? Ava thinks. She wonders if perhaps Isabelle’s parents are flying in for the baptism. Ava’s understanding is the Beaulieus didn’t have the money to travel to America and they were too proud to accept the offer of plane tickets from Margaret and Kelley. They are saving to come to Nantucket when Kevin and Isabelle get married. The wedding has been indefinitely postponed until Patrick is out of jail and Bart arrives safely home.

Bart arrives safely home.

Ava falls back to sleep.

Her phone beeps, a text.

There is a knock on the door.

Really? Ava thinks. She can’t rise to answer, she’s too tired. She’s too tired even to care who it might be so she mumbles, Come in.

“Ava.”

Ava rolls over. Scott is standing at her bedside, and he does not look happy.

“Hi?” she says. “Are you home?” She reaches for the glass of water by her bed. “I’m an idiot. I can see you’re home. How are you, honey? Welcome back.”

Scott says, “Don’t call me ‘honey.’”

His voice is strangled. It is, she understands, a voice filled with fury. Oh no, she thinks. Oh no.

Scott marches over to Ava’s dresser, where he stares at the arrangement of Christmas flowers like it’s a pile of dead baby frogs.

Oh no! Ava thinks. She left the card right on her…

“I can’t stop thinking about you?” Scott says. “Nathaniel?”

She had meant to move the flowers to the living room. She had meant to bury the card. She thought she had more time.

“Nathaniel sent me flowers,” Ava says weakly.

“Yes, I can see that,” Scott says. “Do you know why I’m home so early?”

“Because you wanted to be at the baptism?”

“No,” Scott says. “Because Luzo called me last night and said he saw you and Nathaniel together up on the widow’s walk of the Whaling Museum!”

Ava feels dizzy. She shuts her eyes. Dominic Luzo is Scott’s best friend. He’s a police officer, and the police station is right across the street from the Whaling Museum. Ava didn’t think anyone could have seen her and Nathaniel; apparently she was wrong.

“What were you two doing up there?” Scott asks.

“We were talking,” Ava says.

“You couldn’t have talked at the party?” Scott says. “You had to go up to the widow’s walk?”

Ava has never seen Scott so angry-not when the school committee cut their budget for enrichment assemblies, not when the gifted and talented teacher, Mrs. Fowler, thought it was okay to teach second graders about the human reproductive system. Ava nearly gets her Irish up and fights back. You have been with Roxanne Oliveria all weekend when you should have been here with me! But that will sound petty. Ava didn’t meet Nathaniel on the museum widow’s walk because Scott was gone; she went with Nathaniel because a part of her still loves him.

“I’m sorry,” Ava says.

“Sorry for what? I thought you were just talking,” Scott says. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No,” Ava says. “But I kissed him. Just once. It was a… kiss good-bye.”

“A kiss good-bye?” Scott says. “You said good-bye to him last Christmas! And what is up with these flowers? He can’t stop thinking about you? Does he not realize you’re my girlfriend?”

“He does realize that,” Ava says.

Her phone buzzes again, another text.

Oh no, Ava thinks.

“Is that him?” Scott asks.

“I…?” Ava says. “It’s probably Shelby. She and Zack are coming to the-”

“Do you mind if I check?” Scott says.

Ava does mind. She hops out of bed and grabs her phone. Her screen shows two missed calls from Scott and two texts from Nathaniel.

The first text says, I am still in love with you, Ava Quinn.

The second says, Can I please come to the baptism?

Ava collapses on the bed. “They’re from Nathaniel.”

“What do they say?” Scott asks.

Lie, Ava thinks. But she is too tired to lie, and she’s too confused. She hands the phone to Scott so he can read them himself.

He says, “Well, I can’t blame him for still being in love with you.”

Tears spring to Ava’s eyes. She can handle anything right now except Scott being understanding. She should have told Nathaniel to buzz off on Friday night, but she didn’t. She let herself get sucked back into his irresistible vortex, and now she’s in the same spot as a year ago-stuck between Nathaniel and Scott.

“Are you going to invite him to the baptism?” Scott asks.

“No,” Ava says. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know,” Scott says. “You look like maybe you want him there.”

Ava wipes at her face. “I don’t know what I want.”

“This is just great,” Scott says. “I leave for a day and a half and somehow Nathaniel Oscar takes the opportunity to swoop in and try to steal back my girlfriend.” Scott eyeballs the flowers like he might throw them across the room; Ava wouldn’t blame him if he did. “And now, you don’t know what you want. I thought you wanted me. I thought you wanted us!”

“I do,” Ava says, though she doesn’t sound convincing, even to her own ears. She takes another sip of water. “Did you leave Roxanne in Boston?”

“She was discharged from the hospital at six a.m.,” Scott says. “She was happy to get out of there early.”

“You did the right thing, going with her,” Ava says. “You’re a good guy, Scott.”

“Maybe too good,” Scott says. He walks out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him, and Ava lets him go.

KEVIN

He and Kelley head to the airport while Margaret and Drake check the ferry docks. Kevin would like more hands on deck, but Jennifer and Ava are still asleep and Mitzi stays at the inn to deal with the guests. Kevin is terrified that Isabelle will try to take Genevieve back to France and once they’re gone, they will not be allowed to come back. Isabelle’s papers are not in order. It is number one on their list of things to take care of, but they are so busy day in, day out with the inn and the baby that neither of them have time to go to Boston and meet with an immigration lawyer.

Once Isabelle is off the island, how will Kevin ever find her? She has her own credit card; Kevin doesn’t even know the number. He can’t have the police chase her when she’s a grown woman who left of her own volition. Or can he?

In the car on the way to the airport, Kevin tells Kelley about seeing Norah the night before. “I don’t know why I talked to her. I should have just walked away.”

“Well, you and Norah share quite a lot of history,” Kelley says.

“Yeah,” Kevin says.

“You grew up together,” Kelley says. “I think it’s natural that you would have been drawn to her.”

“I wasn’t drawn to her,” Kevin says. But he had been drawn to her. Isabelle probably saw it written all over Kevin’s face-and that was why she left. “I hate Norah.”

“Hate is a strong word,” Kelley says. “Although she wasn’t a great influence. You quit the trumpet, your grades dropped, you started working at the Bar. Your mother wanted to step in and have what would now be called an intervention, but she felt too guilty for staying in New York and I felt too guilty for moving you to Nantucket. And in her own way, Norah made you happy. You were friends. Inseparable.” Kelley leans back against the seat. “I do not feel well.”

“You look awful,” Kevin says.

“Oh yeah?” Kelley says, perking up. “Well, so do you.”

Kevin’s phone rings. It’s his mother. “They’re not at the Hy-Line and they’re not at the Steamship,” she says. “I got the woman at the Hy-Line to check the passenger list, even. She made an exception because she recognized me.”

“Okay,” Kevin says. His heart is dying; any minute now, it will stop beating. His baby girl. And Isabelle, the person who changed his life, made it worthwhile. He may have grown up with Norah, but it was Isabelle who finally turned him into a man. “Well, if she’s not at the boat, then she must be at the airport.”

“Let’s hope,” Margaret says.

Nantucket Memorial Airport is mobbed with people who have had their Christmas Stroll fun and are now headed back to Boston, New York, and beyond. Kelley and Kevin split up-Kelley goes to the right to check the Crosswinds Restaurant. Kevin heads to the local airline desk, the whole time scanning the crowd. He doesn’t see Isabelle and Genevieve anywhere. At the Island Air desk, he asks Pamela, the gate agent, if she’s seen them. He’s known Pamela for over twenty years and the woman cannot keep a secret. She tells Kevin straight out: she hasn’t booked Isabelle and the baby on any of her morning flights.

The agent at JetBlue doesn’t want to confirm or deny the identity of any of her passengers, but something in Kevin’s face must tug at her heartstrings because she does check. No Isabelle Beaulieu.

Kevin checks at the Cape Air desk. The woman working there says she’s had three flights leave for Boston and one for Providence already that morning, but unless Kevin has a subpoena, she can’t tell him whether Isabelle and Genevieve were passengers.

He has a feeling from the way this woman is looking at him that Isabelle and Genevieve were passengers. Isabelle has flown to Boston, which makes sense; if Kevin were trying to get away as expediently as possible, that’s what he would have done as well.

Kevin is pacing in front of the Cape Air desk when Kelley approaches. The woman has told Kevin that the next available seat on a flight to Boston isn’t until two thirty that afternoon.

Kelley says, “Have you learned anything?”

“My gut tells me she flew to Boston,” Kevin says. “Or maybe I’m just overtired. What do I do, Dad? Should I fly to Boston this afternoon? But what if I get to Logan and she’s not there?”

Kelley checks his watch. “For starters, we need to cancel the baptism. We should let Father Bouchard know, and we should alert everyone else we invited. I’ll cancel lunch at the Sea Grille.”

At this, Kevin sits down on the floor and starts to cry. He’s exhausted and he’s still in his blasted tuxedo; he realizes that the people around him must think he’s having a nervous breakdown. He doesn’t care. Today was supposed to be one of the best days of his life, but instead it’s a shipwreck and it’s all his fault. Not Norah’s fault. It’s Kevin’s fault. He can’t seem to get anything right.

Kelley sits down on the floor next to Kevin and grabs hold of his forearm. “Let’s go home for now, son. Maybe Isabelle came to her senses and went back to the inn.”

Kevin doesn’t have the energy to argue. He’ll go home, and if Isabelle isn’t there, he’ll take the two-thirty flight to Boston. He stands, and helps Kelley to his feet. It’s a good father who will get down on the floor with you in your time of need, Kevin thinks. Kelley has always been this kind of dad, setting an excellent example. Kevin wants to be just like him.

In the parking lot, Kelley’s phone rings. He checks the display. “Oh, for crying out loud,” he says. “It’s George. That guy will not leave me alone.”

“Answer it!” Kevin shouts.

GEORGE

When, at midnight, Mitzi still hasn’t returned to their hotel room, George decides to take Mary Rose up on her sweet-if slightly desperate-offer of a “nightcap” in her room. It’s beneath him, he feels, to betray Mitzi this way, but this entire weekend has proved to George that he never should have gotten involved with the Quinn family in the first place. For years, he had served as their Santa Claus, and as Mitzi’s once-a-year intimate friend; he should have left it at that. The Quinns are as crazy as Larry, and George wants nothing more to do with them.

Turns out, Mary Rose does have a nice bottle of Johnnie Walker Black in her room, and she pours two fingers for herself and three fingers for George. They touch glasses.

“Cheers, Big Ears,” she says.

This is the last thing George remembers. He wakes up in his clothes on top of the duvet of Mary Rose’s bed while Mary Rose snores softly under the covers. He sees one of her bare freckled shoulders and tries to feel enough desire to wake her up and prove himself.

But he’s too old to prove himself; without Viagra, he’s a limp noodle, and he doesn’t belong here, anyway. Gently, quietly, he rises from bed and slithers out the door.

He checks his watch. It’s seven o’clock. He wonders if he will see Mitzi this morning. She will want the dress she brought for the baptism. Or, maybe she won’t. Maybe she’ll borrow a Chanel suit from Margaret.

He’s two doors away from his room when he hears a baby crying. It sounds like the wail of an infant. George stops outside the door. He waits, listens. He hears the mother murmuring to the baby. It could be anyone, George thinks. Lots of visitors to Nantucket have babies. George should move on; he’d like an hour or two more of sleep, and he could do with some aspirin.

He inches closer to the door. He presses his ear against it. The words the mother is saying aren’t making any sense.

The mother is speaking in French.

George knocks. Then, he chastises himself. Not two minutes earlier, he vowed to be done with the Quinns, and now here he is, inserting himself squarely in the middle of their business. But it’s exciting, too. George feels like Telly Savalas; all he needs is a lollipop. Who loves ya, baby?

He, George Umbrau, has found the missing persons.

Isabelle, no doubt, checks through the peephole, and she opens the door anyway.

“George,” she says. “Bonjour.”

“Bonjour,” George says. He loves the sound of the French language, and he has always loved French women. Isabelle is absolutely stunning, even at this ungodly hour. She’s wearing jeans and a pink hooded cashmere sweater and her blond hair is braided. She’s holding the baby.

“Kevin is looking for you,” George says. “He’s very worried.”

Isabelle nods once, curtly. “Oui,” she says. “I’m sure.”

“You two had a fight?” George asks. “An argument?”

Isabelle shrugs.

“You should go home,” George says.

Again, Isabelle shrugs. “Why?”

“Kevin loves you,” George says. “And you love him. You have a beautiful baby. You can be happy.”

Isabelle looks unconvinced.

George says, “Isabelle.”

She cocks an eyebrow.

George leans in. “You don’t want to end up like us, do you?”

Isabelle gives him a cool stare. But then, she smiles. “No,” she says.

“Get your things,” George says. “I’ll take you home.”

MITZI

She’s in the kitchen of the inn, doing dishes, thinking how nice it is to be useful. This must be how her pen pal, Gayle, feels every day running the doctor’s office, too busy to focus all of her psychic energy on her missing son. While she’s thinking of pen pals, Mitzi considers checking her email to see if Yasmin has written back with any advice. But Mitzi is slicing bananas, flipping French toast, refilling the syrup pitchers. There is no time for email.

The phone at the inn rings and Mitzi wonders if she should answer it. She decides it’s probably fine.

“Winter Street Inn,” she says. “Mitzi speaking.”

“Mitzi, it’s George.”

Mitzi sucks in a breath. She would have been wise to let the call go to voicemail. But now is the time to tell him: She isn’t going back to Lenox. Her days of being Mrs. Claus are over.

But before she can figure out how to phrase her parting words, George says, “Isabelle and the baby are here at the Castle.”

Mitzi gasps. “They are?”

“They are,” George says. “She was pretty upset, but I talked some sense into her.”

“You did?” Mitzi says. “You?”

“Yes, me,” George says. He clears his throat. “Seeing as how I located the baby and the mother, I hope I’ll still be welcome at the baptism.”

“Oh,” Mitzi says. “Well…”

“As a friend,” George says. “A friend of the family.”

Mitzi floods with relief. “Of course,” she says.

JENNIFER

She wakes up at nine thirty. She only has one hour to get the boys showered and dressed and fed, and make herself presentable. She needs to think of an excuse so she can step out right as everyone else is leaving for the church, so that she can go meet Norah at the Stop & Shop. What could she possibly need from the store that couldn’t just as easily be purchased from the pharmacy downtown?

Batteries, maybe, for the boys’ video game controllers? But she’s pretty sure Kelley has a closet filled with batteries, lightbulbs, string, Scotch tape, Kleenex, extension cords-anything one might need for practical purposes at an inn.

Some kind of fruit, perhaps? Clementines because the boys like to eat them at the holidays? Or avocados because she’s starting a new diet today? Some kind of cleanse?

She decides to tell Ava she has to run a “personal errand,” and she’ll ask Ava to shepherd the boys from the inn to the church and save Jennifer a seat. Jennifer should make it just before eleven.

She knocks on Ava’s bedroom door. Ava doesn’t answer.

Kelley and Kevin come busting through the back door. Kevin says, “Is she here? Is she here?”

“In the kitchen!” Mitzi calls out.

Kelley and Kevin disappear. No one notices Jennifer at all.

Jennifer runs upstairs and pops an oxy. There’s no way she’ll be able to make it through the morning without it. Four left.

She stares at herself in the mirror. The oxy puts an automatic smile on her face.

The second Patrick gets out of jail, Jennifer will be sent to rehab.

She should not meet Norah. She should be tough in mind, body, and spirit and give up the pills. She’ll indulge in an Ativan holiday every once in a while, when things with Barrett get unbearable. I wish you were the one who had gone to prison.

“Boys!” she says, in her Mean Mom voice. All three of them are lumps in the den, where, no doubt, they played Assassin’s Creed until two in the morning. Jaime slept on the floor, Pierce in the recliner, Barrett on the sofa. There are three plates of chicken bones on the coffee table. “Get up!”

Barrett moans. Here it comes, Jennifer thinks.

“I don’t want to go to church,” he says. “I don’t want to wear a tie. And I don’t want to go to stupid lunch. I hate seafood. The smell of it makes me want to puke.”

“You like lobster pie,” Jaime says.

“Shut up,” Barrett says. With Jennifer, he presents the argument for his defense. “Mom, you told me all I had to do was get confirmed… which I did… and then all decisions about religion would be up to me.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t apply here. This is a family baptism. This is your cousin. You will be coming to church and you will come to lunch. I already checked the menu at the Sea Grille. They have a steak sandwich and they have a burger. You’ll be fine.”

“You said all decisions about religion would be up to me,” Barrett says. “I do not want any religion today.”

The oxy makes Jennifer invincible. That, perhaps, is its finest quality. For the time that it’s running through her blood, she can make the world do her bidding. “You will take showers in order of age and you will get dressed-khakis, shirts, ties, blazers. You will comb your hair. You will smile and shake hands. You will behave like gentlemen. You will do these things in honor of your baby cousin. You will do these things to make your father proud of you. He would do anything to be here himself.”

The boys, even Barrett, are somber. Had she gotten through?

“Barrett,” she says. “Shower.”

“I’m hungry,” he says.

“I’ll go get your breakfast now and bring it up,” she says. She stares him down. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” he says.

The kitchen is mayhem! Isabelle and the baby are both crying, Kevin is crying and apologizing, Mitzi is cleaning up breakfast and Kelley and George are sitting on stools with cups of coffee.

George? Jennifer thinks. Why is George here? Somehow Jennifer thought…? Well, she doesn’t know what to think about Mitzi and Kelley and George. Jennifer’s mother has been a widow for twenty years. She never dates; her life is both full and peaceful without a man. Jennifer appreciates her mother, especially at moments like this.

Kelley says, “Norah Vale was bad news. Beginning, middle, and end.”

Jennifer realizes she has walked into the Norah Vale aftermath.

Kevin says to Isabelle, “I thought you were gone forever.”

Isabelle wipes her eyes and bounces the baby.

Gone forever? Jennifer thinks. Norah Vale isn’t worthy of Isabelle’s jealousy, though Jennifer certainly understands it. Seeing Norah Vale out last night was just one of the bumps in the road that most relationships face. It feels bad in the moment, but you talk through it and you are stronger afterward. Jennifer and Patrick have faced several issues like this. The biggest, of course, was Patrick’s indictment.

Jennifer feels wise for a moment. She pats Isabelle discreetly on the back.

“Is there anything I can feed the boys?” Jennifer asks.

“Three orders of banana French toast,” Mitzi says, “coming right up.”

“Make that four orders,” George says. “Please.”

“Don’t you think Norah Vale was bad news?” Kelley asks Jennifer.

“Dad,” Kevin says, “please stop saying her name.”

Jennifer shrugs; she’s not going to judge. Norah is bad news, yes, but all of them, in their own way, are bad news. She, Jennifer Barrett Quinn, is bad news.

She carries the plates of French toast up to the boys and then she hurries out the door, to meet Norah Vale.

Norah is waiting in the parking lot in one of her parents’ old taxicabs.

“Get in,” Norah says.

“I’m in a tremendous hurry,” Jennifer says, but she climbs into the passenger seat nonetheless. The taxi smells like old smoke, newer smoke, and vomit. Norah’s mother, Lorraine, was famous for driving drunk kids home from the Chicken Box.

“Here are your pills,” Norah says, holding out an actual prescription bottle. “Thirty, I counted them twice.”

Jennifer opens her purse. She pulls out four hundred and fifty dollars in cash. “Here you go. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Norah says. She lights a cigarette, then flashes Jennifer a genuine, gap-toothed smile. “I’m psyched about the money, don’t get me wrong, but the real payoff is learning that you’re not perfect after all.”

KELLEY

He does not feel well. He needs to make an appointment with Dr. Field first thing tomorrow, which will most likely result in a physical of the invasive kind, not to mention a slew of overly personal questions.

But for today, Kelley is grateful that things are moving ahead. George, of all people, found Isabelle at the Castle and somehow he talked sense into her.

Both Mitzi and Kelley are eager to find out what George had said to her.

“Basically,” George says, “I told her that jealousy is an emotion that attends very strong feelings of love.” George clears his throat. “I also pointed out that she didn’t want to end up like us.”

“Amen,” Kelley says.

Everyone leaves the kitchen to get ready for the baptism-even George. He’s going to join them after all, and then he’ll return to Lenox alone. As it turns out, Mitzi is not just here for the weekend. She is staying. She is staying!

“You know what I want to do right after lunch?” Mitzi asks.

Fix the Christmas letter, Kelley thinks. He’ll have to send out another email announcing that he and Mitzi have reunited.

“What?” Kelley asks. He figures she’s going to say something about sex, which would be great-if only Kelley were feeling better.

“I want to rearrange the Byers’ Choice carolers,” she says. “You set them out all wrong.”

She’s back.

DRAKE

He hasn’t set foot in a church other than the hospital chapel, which is ecumenical, since his father died forty-five years earlier. It doesn’t seem a great reach to conclude that Drake was so decimated by his father’s death and his time in the church so excruciating, that he had never had any desire to return.

He does believe in God, however. He prays in his mind each working day-right after he’s scrubbed in for surgery and right before he’s about to take someone else’s life into his own hands. He prays for the patient; he prays for himself.

This morning, Drake prays for the Quinn family, one and all. Inside the sanctuary, they present as a strong and lovely group. Kelley, patriarch, is standing tall in his navy suit with Mitzi at his side. And then George, the Santa Claus, sits on the other side of Mitzi, wearing his Christmas tie and a plush red Santa hat. Is such a hat allowed in church? Clearly the ushers didn’t speak to him about it; maybe it’s allowed on Stroll weekend. Margaret’s grandsons snicker and Margaret herself intones, “Oh, George.” Drake is puzzled by George’s inclusion, but Drake is here, so why not George? The three Quinn boys are nearly identical in their khakis and blazers; they are sitting in a pew with Margaret and Drake. Jennifer is coming imminently; she had something important to do that apparently could not wait, but no one knows what it is.

Margaret says softly to Drake, so that the boys can’t hear, “Maybe she’s gone to the airport to pick up Patrick. He is the godfather, after all. Maybe he received a furlough for the day. They do it for funerals, so why not baptisms? If you’re the child’s godfather?” Her tone is so earnest that it pierces Drake’s tough armor. She sounds like so many of the mothers he talks to. After surgery, he’ll be cancer-free, right, Dr. Carroll? Drake promotes optimism-but not false hope-in his line of work, and he won’t do it here, either.

He says, “That seems pretty unlikely.”

“But how amazing would it be if Paddy could be here?” Margaret says. “Just for today.”

She is a mother who misses her firstborn.

“It would be amazing,” Drake says. But then he sees Jennifer hurrying down the side aisle, alone. She slips into the pew next to Jaime, just before Mass begins.

Drake squeezes Margaret’s hand.

Margaret says, “I’m not going to check my phone until after Mass. I’m going to let Kevin and Isabelle have this moment.”

“Exactly right,” Drake says.

“Because no matter what is happening, there’s nothing I can do about it right now,” Margaret says.

“Exactly right,” Drake says.

At the entrance of the church standing with the priest are Kevin and Isabelle, holding baby Genevieve. And Ava, who is the godmother, and Kevin’s best friend, Pierre, who is serving as the proxy for Patrick.

The inside of St. Mary’s feels holy to Drake, holier than the hospital chapel which is basically just a tan square room with pews and kneelers. St. Mary’s has a pipe organ and soaring stained glass windows. The priest is white-haired and bespectacled and pleasingly resembles Father Dennis, the priest of Drake’s youth.

The priest raises his hands in the air and announces to the church that a new member is about to join their community of faith, and that this member is named Genevieve Helene Quinn.

Margaret sniffs. Drake feels a wave of love so intense it nearly bowls him over.

AVA

There is a long moment while they’re waiting in the front vestibule of the church when Ava gets to hold baby Genevieve. She is wearing a long white gown and a cap that frames her beautiful blue-eyed face. Ava isn’t overly religious-none of the Quinns are-but Ava plans on taking her role as godmother very seriously. She is Genevieve’s spiritual adviser, someone to talk to when Genevieve doesn’t want to talk to her parents.

Ava strokes the baby’s cheek. She gazes up at Ava with her sapphire eyes while Ava tells her, The most important thing is that you grow up strong. You will be your own person, with your own interests and values and talents. You don’t need a man to define you!

Ava thinks this last phrase with no small amount of vigor.

Scott isn’t here. And Nathaniel isn’t here. Ava is happy about this! She’s glad! She is not a baton to be handed back and forth between them, nor a prize to be won. She is her own person. She is, among so many other things, the godmother of this beautiful baby.

It is only in processing down the aisle that Ava sees Scott. He’s impossible to miss-tall and broad-shouldered, sitting a pew behind Margaret and Drake and the boys, two pews behind Mitzi and Kelley and George. So much for “being her own person”-Ava’s heart swells, and her eyes sting with tears of gratitude. He came! Despite Ava’s reprehensible behavior this weekend, he came to the baptism. She wants to reach out and touch his shoulder as she passes, but then she remembers that she’s the godmother. She needs to focus on the altar, and the task at hand.

Baby Genevieve is prayed over and anointed with the oil of chrism. Kevin and Isabelle vow to raise Genevieve in the Catholic faith. Ava and Pierre-as-proxy agree to serve as the child’s godparents. The congregation agrees to participate in raising Genevieve as a member of their spiritual community. Then, Genevieve is sprinkled with holy water, and she doesn’t make a single peep. She just blinks and wrinkles her nose as the water drips off her forehead. The congregation utter oohs and ahhs as Genevieve is presented; everyone applauds. Then, it is time to resume Mass-offering, hymns, the liturgy.

Ava sees Nathaniel as he approaches the altar for communion. She blinks. Nathaniel. As he passes by her pew, he winks at her. She feels herself blush.

She gazes over at baby Genevieve, who is now asleep in Kevin’s arms, and thinks, I really don’t have any words of advice at all. The world is an endlessly confounding place.

MARGARET

Unflappable has never applied to Margaret when she’s been at church, and especially not when the communion hymn is “I Am the Bread of Life,” as it is today. This song always makes Margaret cry. And I will raise you up… and I will raise you up, and I will ra-aise you up on the last day.

Drake offers Margaret his handkerchief and Margaret dabs at her eyes.

She leans over to him and whispers in his ear. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he whispers back.

“Yes, I will be your wife,” she says.

AVA

As the godmother, Ava has to be in all the photographs after the service. She had thought Scott might leave, but he sticks around, sitting in his pew until they’ve run the gamut from just Kevin and Isabelle and Genevieve to the entire family-meaning Mitzi, but not George, Margaret, but not Drake.

“Drake should be in the pictures,” Margaret says in Ava’s ear. “We’re getting married.”

“You are?” Ava whispers back.

“Ssssshhh,” Margaret says. “Don’t tell anyone just yet. This is Kevin’s moment.”

Ava nods and smiles dutifully for the camera. Her mother is going to marry Drake. They are going to be very happy-Ava can feel it in her bones. She doesn’t understand how she can be so sure about her mother’s romantic prospects and so unsure about her own.

After pictures, Ava approaches Scott. “Are you coming to lunch?” she asks.

“No,” he says. “I don’t think so.”

Ava stammers. “Oh… okay?” She had thought that him showing up to the service and sitting through pictures meant that she was forgiven. She had thought they would pick up where they left off at their last happy moment-singing carols in their hideous sweaters at Our Island Home. She had thought Scott might make a joke about introducing Nathaniel to Roxanne, at which point, Ava would say, Nathaniel is thirty-two, isn’t that a little old for Roxanne?

Scott says, “I’m going to give you some space for a while. Let you figure out what you want.”

“It’s like you said this morning,” Ava says. “I want you. I want us. I want to get married and have a baby.” She points to Shelby and Zack, who are leaving the church hand in hand. “I want that.”

“I know you want to get married and have children,” Scott says. “But maybe not with me.”

Ava opens her mouth and no words come out. She doesn’t want to make a scene. They are still in the sanctuary, and Ava’s family is milling about. Jennifer is over by the candles with Barrett; her voice is probably louder than it ought to be as she speaks to Barrett about his “piss-poor attitude” since his father has been gone. Thankfully, Kelley shuttles Jennifer and Barrett out the door.

Scott says, “Ava, I’m tired. I’ve barely slept in two days, and I have to pick up Roxanne’s prescriptions at the pharmacy and drop them off at her house.”

“What?” Ava says. Roxanne, again! She wonders if Scott’s offer of “space” doesn’t have something to do with Roxanne. Maybe during the past thirty-six hours, he has fallen a little in love with Mz. Ohhhhhh.

“Ava,” Scott says wearily. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“When later?” she says.

“I don’t know,” Scott says. “I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

Naturally, Ava will see Scott tomorrow at school-and the next day, and the day after that. How awkward it will be to see Scott in his capacity as her boss while their relationship is suspended, while he is, ostensibly, giving her space. How are they supposed to work in the same building? What will she say to him when they’re standing next to each other in line at the cafeteria?

“You can’t give me space,” Ava says.

“You need it,” Scott says. He kisses her gently on the lips, and it feels exactly like a kiss good-bye.

Ava watches Scott stride out of the church. She wonders how she could have so thoroughly dismantled her relationship over the course of one short weekend.

She takes a deep breath and reacquaints herself with her purse and her wrap. Now, everyone else has left the church and will be on their way to the Sea Grille for lunch, leaving Ava stranded. Certainly the rest of her family assumed she was getting a ride to the restaurant with Scott. She’ll have to walk all the way back to the inn and get her own car.

When she steps out of the church into the glare of the bright, cold day, she sees Nathaniel on the sidewalk waiting for her.

She shakes her head. This isn’t happening! For two and a half years, she couldn’t get the guy to pay attention to her-now, he won’t leave her alone! Now, he has effectively ravaged the great thing Ava had going with Scott. Scott must have seen Nathaniel when he left the church. Possibly, Scott thought Ava had asked Nathaniel to linger after the service.

She says, “Honestly? You can’t stay away? You can’t leave me alone? Scott just basically broke up with me-because of you! Because he thinks I’m ‘confused’ and ‘need space’! And you know what? I am confused!” She’s on the verge of tears. Her Christmas Stroll weekend is ruined. Nothing turned out the way it was supposed to. Her caroling party was a disaster, the Festival of Trees a catastrophe, and now here she is, godmother to the most precious baby girl in all the world and she’s about to weep on the front steps of the church.

“Ava,” Nathaniel says, “I’m not giving up. I’m not going away. I love you.”

He loves her.

She’s going to have to make a decision.

Nathaniel says, “What are you doing right now? Do you want to go for a ride up the beach? Do you want to go to my house and watch the Patriots? I’ll make my white chicken chili.”

“I’m going to lunch with my family,” Ava says. “They all left without me.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Nathaniel asks. “Or can I give you a ride?”

“No thank you,” Ava says. “I’m going alone.”

MARGARET

Margaret and Drake ride from the church to the Sea Grille with Mitzi and Kelley. As soon as Margaret is ensconced in the backseat, she whips out her phone.

Somehow, Kelley sees her. “Always working, Margaret.”

Margaret is so tense, she nearly snaps at him. This used to be Kelley’s refrain with her throughout the entirety of their marriage, which ended twenty years ago-so why does Margaret still have to listen to it? Margaret is only “working” because it involves Kelley’s son!

“That’s right,” she murmurs.

Mitzi swats Kelley on the arm. “She has a very important job.”

“I know, I know,” Kelley says.

Margaret can feel Drake’s gaze on her.

There are no texts, no calls, no emails. And no new headlines on the CBS website.

Slowly, Margaret shakes her head.

KEVIN

From the instant he walks into the Sea Grille for lunch, he can tell it’s going to be a disappointment. Or maybe he’s just tired. Isabelle is fretting because the baby is having a meltdown.

Kevin says, “She was a perfect angel at church. That’s the important thing.”

Isabelle says, “She needs her nap, Kevin. She did not sleep well last night.” There is an accusatory tone to Isabelle’s voice, and Kevin almost takes the bait. He almost says, And whose fault is that? Who took the baby to sleep in an unfamiliar room at a strange hotel? But he holds his tongue. He has apologized for his conversation with Norah Vale; he has reassured Isabelle that Norah is rien, nothing, while Isabelle is tout, everything. They have kissed and made up. He doesn’t want to revisit the topic.

He says, “We’ll put her down for a nap right after lunch.”

Isabelle nods, tight-lipped. They carry Genevieve, who is now screaming bloody murder, into the restaurant.

Kelley and Mitzi are already at the table. When Kevin said earlier that Kelley looked awful, he meant it. His father’s skin is gray; he looks like a pencil drawing of his usual self, and his hands shake as he brings a glass of ice water to his lips. Next to Kelley, Mitzi is smiling, but skeletal; she has lost a lot of weight over the past year.

Both Kelley and Mitzi swivel in their chairs as soon as they hear the baby. Kevin wouldn’t be surprised if the whole island can hear the baby. Genevieve is howling so loudly, her car seat vibrates. Her tiny mouth is wide open and Kevin can see clear down her throat.

Mitzi stands up. “Oh, poor little thing. Can I hold her?”

Kevin feels Isabelle stiffen next to him. The rest of the family has rolled along pretty easily with Mitzi’s apparent return to the homestead, but Isabelle remains nonplussed. Mitzi is back? she asked incredulously on Saturday night, before they all went out. She is forgiven? She had asked Kevin who made breakfast in her absence, and when Kevin said, “Mitzi did,” Isabelle emitted a high-pitched, very unhappy Ha!

Reluctantly, Isabelle hands the baby over to Mitzi. Mitzi says, “Oh, sweetheart, peanut, look at you. You are such a darling, yummy baby, just like your Uncle Bart used to be.”

Somehow Genevieve stops crying for a second. She studies the unfamiliar face and voice of the woman who is now holding her. Then, she starts crying again-louder now, if that’s even possible.

Kelley says, “I’ll hold her.”

Mitzi says, “I thought she’d like me. Babies usually like me.”

“It has nothing to do with like or not like,” Kevin says. “She’s tired.”

“She needs a nap,” Isabelle says.

Kevin really wants to get this lunch moving along, but to do so, he needs the rest of his family. Where is everyone?

Margaret and Drake enter next. Margaret makes a beeline for the table with her scarf covering most of her face, her sunglasses on, and her head bent, but still a murmur rolls through the restaurant like a wave. Margaret Quinn.

Margaret reaches for the baby. “Come to Mimi.”

Kelley takes the baby from Mitzi and hands her to Margaret. The baby howls.

Mitzi says, “She won’t stop crying for Margaret either.”

Margaret seems to take this as a challenge. She flips Genevieve into the “football hold.” Genevieve is facing the ground while Margaret’s arms support her lengthwise. “This used to work with Kevin,” she says.

Still, Genevieve screams. Kevin takes a seat at the head of the table; he feels like the ruler of a revolting nation. Isabelle sits next to Kevin, even though Kevin can tell all she wants to do is grab Genevieve and take her back to the inn for a nap.

Why did they ever think this lunch would be a good idea?

He flags a waiter. “Can you bring us some bread, please?” he asks. “And I’d love a beer.”

“Glass of chardonnay,” Mitzi says.

“Make that two,” Margaret says. She looks at Kevin. “Should I take her outside?”

“It’s too cold outside, Mom,” Kevin says. He turns to face the door. He needs Ava, Jennifer, and the boys to show up, pronto!

“Here,” Drake says, “let me hold her.”

Margaret hands Genevieve to Drake. This is getting absurd, Kevin thinks. It’s a game of Hot Potato. The only person who hasn’t held the baby is their waiter. But Genevieve calms down in Drake’s arms; he’s rubbing the base of her scalp with two fingers.

“The baby whisperer,” Margaret says.

Drake operates on babies; he probably has more experience with infants than all of the rest of them put together. Once Genevieve is sucking in raggedy breaths, Drake lowers her into Isabelle’s arms.

Ahhhhhh. Everyone at the table visibly relaxes.

Margaret says, “I don’t want to distract from my granddaughter’s big day, but I have an announcement to make. I’ll tell you and then you can forget about it for a while.”

“Nice setup,” Kevin says. “What is it?”

“Drake and I are getting married.”

Kelley stands up to shake Drake’s hand. “Welcome to the family, Dr. Carroll. I heartily approve.”

“Well, it’s always good to get approval from the ex-husband,” Drake says, grinning.

“That’s wonderful news!” Mitzi says. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Margaret says. “It is wonderful news. Just please don’t tell anyone yet. I don’t want to see it on Page Six tomorrow morning. I’ll let my publicist know when I get back to New York.”

“I’m happy for you, Mom,” Kevin says. Their drinks arrive along with two baskets of warm rolls, scones, and crisp, delicate grissini. Kevin downs half his beer instantly and takes a giant bite of a cheesy scone. He’s starving. He has a toast prepared, but he wants to wait until everyone else arrives.

They sit in an increasingly awkward silence as they wait for Ava, Jennifer, and the boys. There are two extra seats at the table, meant symbolically for Patrick and Bart. This was Kevin’s idea. He misses his brothers. His whole life he has been defined by being squeezed between them. He had thought that with them gone, he might change into a different kind of person, but as it turns out, he’s exactly the same. He’s a lover, not a fighter, he wants peace more than money, and his greatest dream is a family of his own.

Kevin hears Jennifer before he sees her. She is shouting at Barrett, and when Kevin turns around, she’s pulling Barrett toward the table by the sleeve of his blazer.

“It does not smell funny in here,” Jennifer says. “You will sit and eat with our family.”

“There are my handsome grandsons,” Margaret says diplomatically.

Pierce and Jaime take seats at the table without fanfare; Pierce even puts his napkin on his lap.

“This isn’t our family,” Barrett says. “This is Dad’s family, and Dad’s not even here.”

Kelley stands up and takes Barrett by the arm. “Outside,” he says. “Now.”

“But Grandpa,” Barrett says.

“Now,” Kelley says.

Jennifer collapses in a chair. “Chardonnay, please,” she says to the waiter. She drops her head in her hands. “I’ve had it with that kid. I have… had it.”

“I was worse when I was that age,” Kevin says. “I promise you.”

Jennifer tousles Jaime’s hair. He wriggles under her hand and excuses himself for the bathroom. Pierce gets up to follow him, and Jennifer says, “Not both of you at once.”

“But I have to go, too,” Pierce says.

“Fine!” Jennifer says. “Go, then!” She turns back to the adults. “It’s just so hard doing everything by myself. For the past year, I’ve been their mother and their father. And I’m trying to build my business and generate income, in case Patrick doesn’t get hired right away when he gets out. It’s exhausting.” She looks at Kevin, Kelley, Margaret. “I need help. Can’t you people see that I need help? I know the kids play too many video games. I know they should be outside throwing the lacrosse ball, or I should be teaching them cribbage. I know I should be reading to Jaime at night. I read all seven Harry Potter books to Barrett and all three Hunger Games books to Pierce. The youngest always gets short shrift and it’s not fair. Is it any wonder he crawls into bed with me every night? He needs my attention and the only time he can get it is when I’m asleep.” Jennifer points at Genevieve, asleep in Isabelle’s arms. “I want that back. I want the cooing, the gummy smiles. I want them before they learn how to talk. I want them before they start to hate me.”

“Jennifer,” Margaret says, “they do not hate you.”

“Barrett does,” Jennifer says. “He wishes I had gone to jail instead of Patrick…”

“No,” Mitzi says.

“His words, verbatim,” Jennifer says. “And you know what I told Barrett? I told him that I would never be the one to go to jail because I would never, ever have made the thoughtless, morally corrupt choices that his father made.”

Whoa. Kevin-and everyone else at the table-sit in a stunned silence. Even Margaret, the woman who has a silver-tongued response for everything, is staring at Jennifer in a horrified stupor. Part of the surprise is how uncharacteristic this outburst is coming from Jennifer. The woman is so cool, so together. Kevin has always thought Patrick was lucky to have found Jennifer, but never more so than this past year when Jennifer stood by her man and somehow managed to keep their domestic life intact. She took the boys to lacrosse practice, she made chicken pot pie from scratch.

Jennifer’s voice is too loud for the restaurant. Tables around them have quieted and are, no doubt, listening in on the Quinn family drama. The waiter, perhaps thinking that Jennifer is complaining about the service, brings Jennifer’s wine and gives menus to everyone at the table.

Kevin says, “Can we get two orders of calamari right away? And some potato skins for the boys.”

The waiter nods, then gets the heck out of there.

Margaret says, “You’re right, Jennifer, you’re right. Patrick’s actions were shortsighted and greedy. He has done you and the boys a great disservice.”

Whoa again, Kevin thinks. In thirty-seven years, Kevin has never heard Margaret say a negative word about Patrick. Okay, that’s probably hyperbole. But it’s pretty well documented that Patrick is Margaret’s favorite, even if she would never admit it. He’s probably Kelley’s favorite as well. The firstborn son, the heir to the Quinn family throne, the golden child.

Kevin isn’t pleased that the conversation has turned to Patrick on the day of Genevieve’s christening. And, he hasn’t forgotten, he’s angry at Jennifer for not giving him the heads-up about Norah!

Where on earth is Ava? Kevin wonders.

Kelley returns to the table with a seemingly chastened Barrett.

“Sorry, Mom,” Barrett mumbles.

Jennifer mops her face with a napkin. She has completely lost her composure. It’s almost as if it isn’t Jennifer Barrett Quinn at the table, but rather her doppelgänger, or a Jennifer who has been body-snatched and replaced by an alien.

Is she on something? Kevin wonders.

“Wow,” Kelley says. “You all look totally miserable. What did I miss?”

“Can we order?” Kevin asks. “Please?”

Pierce and Jaime return to their seats. Pierce is holding a sprig of mistletoe he must have stolen from somewhere in the restaurant. He holds it over his mother’s head and gives her a kiss. This gets a smile out of her.

“I think I’ll have the lobster bisque,” Drake says.

“Does anyone remember the time…,” Kelley says.

“Yes, Dad,” Kevin says. Quinn Family Legend, he thinks: the Sea Grille edition. Kelley once ordered the lobster bisque, which comes covered with a dill puff pastry. When Kelley poked through the puff pastry, there was no soup in the bowl.

They have to mention it every time they eat at the Sea Grille. The story is tired, but it’s preferable to discussing Patrick’s character flaws and the way he’s let them all down.

Kevin stands up, his near-empty beer in hand. “I’m not going to wait for Ava,” he says. “I’d like to make a toast.” He checks around the table to make sure all eyes are on him: Mitzi and Kelley, check, Margaret and Drake, check, Barrett, check, Jaime is picking the berries off the mistletoe and trying to sink them in his water glass, Jennifer is drinking her wine, Pierce is looking at something under the table, probably his iPhone. Isabelle, check. The empty chairs seem to glare at him-the ghosts of Patrick and Bart-and Kevin thinks this makes sense. This toast is really for them.

“For years and years,” Kevin says, “I felt like the Lesser Quinn. The slacker Quinn. The screwup Quinn. The unremarkable middle child. After all, I had an older brother who could slay dragons with his green eyes. I had a younger sister with perfect pitch. And just when it seemed my younger brother might end up being a bigger failure than even me, he goes off to war to defend our country and our freedom.”

There is a sniffle from Mitzi’s direction.

“But today I saw my little girl baptized, a daughter given to me by my beautiful fiancée, Isabelle Beaulieu. Some of what is good and right about my life is due to those of you who dealt with me before I met Isabelle-Mom, Dad, Mitzi, Jennifer, Ava, and my brothers, Patrick and Bart. But now, the love that sustains me and motivates me and keeps me upright is my love for Isabelle and for our precious, sweet daughter, Genevieve. It is to them that I would like to raise my glass. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for making me matter. Cheers to all, and God bless.”

Cheers, God bless around the table. Even Jennifer raises her glass.

They order. Bisque for Drake, flatbread for Mitzi, lobster roll for Margaret, steak for Kelley, chicken fingers for Jaime, burger for Pierce, nothing for Barrett until he relents and orders the burger, bouillabaisse for Isabelle, grilled swordfish for Kevin, and a salad, no dressing, for Jennifer. Until she reconsiders and orders the fried shrimp platter with extra coleslaw.

Okay, Kevin thinks. They are on their way. Genevieve is asleep in Isabelle’s arms and Isabelle doesn’t look far behind. Kevin is so tired he could put his head down on the table now and sleep until morning.

The waiter leaves and Ava appears. She is not with Scott, as they all expected. She is by herself and her face is bright pink. She looks like a dam that’s about to burst.

“Mitzi?” Ava says. “Daddy?”

Everyone at the table is staring at her.

Margaret seems to intuit what Ava is about to say. “Has something happened, darling?”

“I just heard on the radio that one of the missing marines from Bart’s platoon has escaped. The U.S. military has him. He’s in critical condition and is being flown to Landstuhl for treatment.”

“What?” Mitzi says.

Margaret jumps up from the table with her phone.

KELLEY

He is the patriarch here. It’s up to him to keep order and make decisions. They can’t sit and enjoy lunch now; already their table sounds like a street riot.

Kevin asks the waiter to pack all the meals up to go and Jennifer says that she and the boys will wait for the food while everyone else heads back to the inn.

Mitzi is shaking so badly Kelley and Drake each take an arm and lead her out of the restaurant. She’s saying, “One of the marines escaped. One escaped! That means the others are alive. Right, Kelley? Right?”

“We don’t know,” Kelley says. One marine out of forty-five escaped. What are the chances it was Bart? Three percent. And does Kelley want it to be Bart? The marine is in “critical condition.”

But he’s alive. And Mitzi’s right. That means the others might be alive, too.

Hope.

Margaret is standing in the parking lot, phone to one ear, fingers plugging the other. Kelley and Drake walk Mitzi over to the car and help her inside.

Kelley wishes he’d eaten something. He does not feel well. His head feels like it’s going to topple off his shoulders.

Margaret finally hangs up and climbs into the backseat. She says, “They should be releasing the name within the hour.”

Mitzi keens. Kelley gets behind the wheel. One thing at a time. He has to drive safely back to the inn.

Hope.

At home, everyone gathers in the kitchen except for Isabelle, who is putting the baby down for a nap. Jennifer comes in with heavy bags of takeout containers, which smell wonderful, although no one has any desire to eat.

Kelley pours himself a cup of coffee and sets about making some tea for Mitzi, which he knows she won’t drink, but he wants to keep his hands busy.

They are all waiting for Margaret’s phone to ring.

There’s a knock at the front door. Ava looks at Kelley, who looks at Kevin. Kevin goes to answer it, and a few seconds later George walks into the kitchen. Kelley puts a protective hand on Mitzi’s shoulder.

George says, “I just heard the news. I felt I should come.”

Kelley nods and offers their former Santa Claus a stool at the counter. “Coffee?” Kelley asks.

George pulls out his flask. “Whiskey,” he says.

“Good idea,” Kevin says, and he pours himself a shot of Jameson. “Dad?”

“No thanks,” Kelley says.

Jennifer takes a few Styrofoam containers out of the bag and says, “I’m going to take the boys up their lunch.”

The second she leaves, there’s another knock at the front door.

“Word is out,” Kevin says. He goes to answer it. A few seconds later, Scott walks into the kitchen.

“I just heard,” he says. He looks at Ava. “Are you okay?”

Ava shrugs.

“It’s a waiting game,” Drake says.

“Scott, can I get you a cup of coffee?” Kelley asks.

“I’m good, thanks, Mr. Quinn.”

“We missed you at lunch,” Kelley says.

“Yeah, well-”

Scott is interrupted by the ringing of Margaret’s phone.

Everyone in the kitchen stops dead quiet, staring at the name on the lit screen.

Darcy.

The marine’s name is William Burke. He is twenty years old, from Madison, Wisconsin. He is being treated for head trauma and various broken bones and lacerations. He was discovered by a civilian Afghani family. They took him to a U.S. military outpost on the outskirts of Sangin.

“That’s all we have right now,” Margaret says. “He’s alive, he was strong enough to escape, and my source on the ground says officials are optimistic that most or all of the other soldiers are alive.”

“Most?” Mitzi says.

“We just don’t know,” Margaret says. She hugs Mitzi tightly. “But this is good news, Mitzi. This is good news.”

Tears drip down Mitzi’s face. Margaret looks at Kelley and says, “We need this kid to live. If this kid lives, he can give the military valuable information.”

“Valuable information,” Kelley says.

“So that they can find Bart,” Margaret says.

His son. His baby boy. Not a perfect kid by any stretch of the imagination, but a beloved child nonetheless. A child he and Mitzi had enjoyed and appreciated.

He hears Mitzi whispering under her breath. Bart Bart Bart Bart Bart.

It’s Kelley who suggests they all go into Bart’s room to pray. He and Mitzi, Margaret and Drake, Ava and Scott, Kevin, Isabelle, and Genevieve, Jennifer, the boys, and even George. They all file into Bart’s room and, without words, join hands in a circle. The room smells like Bart was there five minutes ago-pot smoke, Doritos, dirty socks.

Kelley says, “Dear Lord, we are a family, prostrate before you, asking for the return of our son, our brother, our uncle, Bartholomew Quinn. Please bring him safely back to this island, back to this house, back to this family. And we pray for the recovery of Private William Burke and for his family and loved ones…”

Suddenly Kelley can’t breathe. He can’t get air in or out of his lungs. In his mind’s eye is a picture of Bart’s face in the seconds just after he got beaned with the baseball thrown by D-Day, who was a head taller than Bart, and three years older. He can see the pain on Bart’s face and the urge to mask the pain, the desire to be brave, to shake it off, to stand back up at the plate and try to hit the ball again. You didn’t hurt me, you didn’t scare me, pitch to me again! This is the same attitude he will be exhibiting now, wherever he is. Bart grew up afraid of nothing because he never had any reason to be afraid. He, more than the older children, was certain of his talent, his charm, his good luck. He is alive somewhere and he is bravely plotting his own escape.

Kelley will see his son again.

It is the certainty of this that draws all of the oxygen out of Kelley’s lungs.

“Amen,” everyone says.

Kelley falls to his knees first, and then collapses on the floor.

“Kelley!” Mitzi screams.

Kevin and Ava simultaneously call 911. Drake kneels down to check Kelley’s pulse. Kelley hears Drake say, “He’s unconscious.”

Bart, Kelley thinks. This is good news, he thinks.

Margaret says, “Help him, Drake. Help him!”

Mitzi says, “Kelley, baby, please wake up. Please, Kelley. Don’t you leave me, too.”

JENNIFER

Kelley is taken to Nantucket Cottage Hospital, where he will be kept overnight for observation and tests. It’s exhaustion, the doctor thinks. Stress, low blood sugar. Nothing to be worried about, yet.

At four o’clock, after things have quieted down, Jennifer sits in an armchair in the living room, where she can see the twinkling lights and whimsical ornaments on the Christmas tree. She calls the prison in Shirley to talk to Patrick. The oxy has worn off and she resists taking another. She feels scooped out, and her nerves are frayed.

The one thing that never disappoints is how happy Patrick sounds to hear from her during their weekly phone calls. He sounds like he’s been holding his breath for a week.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says. “Do you know how much I miss you? Do you know how much I love you?”

“I do,” she says. “And I miss you. And I love you.”

“How was the weekend?” he asks. “Tell me everything.”

Jennifer takes a deep breath. “Get ready,” she says. “This might take a while.”