Winter Solstice Read online

Page 9


  “Detroit was work,” Benton says. Then, perhaps realizing how abrupt he sounds, he adds, “And the occasional Lions game.”

  “Ah, I would have pegged you for a baseball fan,” Eddie says.

  “I hate baseball,” Benton says. “Too slow.”

  Hating baseball is un-American, Eddie thinks. But he refrains from saying anything uncharitable. He refrains from responding at all, which leaves him and Benton to swim in a sea of awkward silence. Eddie is waiting for Benton to ask how he, Eddie, is doing. And Benton—well, Benton is probably fighting the urge to do so. Or possibly, Benton is waiting for Eddie to tell him to stay away from Grace. But Eddie is going to let that particular elephant remain in the room for a while longer. He says, “I came to this party with my daughter Allegra. Hope is in college. She’s a sophomore at Bucknell.”

  “Yes,” Benton says. “I’m aware.”

  “You’re aware?” Eddie says. How could Benton Coe possibly be aware? Did Grace tell him? Are they still in contact? Did Grace send Benton the annual Christmas card? Or did Benton merely see Hope’s choice of college mentioned in the Inquirer and Mirror?

  “Good for her,” Benton says. “She’s a smart kid. And now, Eddie, I have to excuse myself as well. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” With that, Benton Coe moves to the next table, where he stops to shake hands and chat with Hunter Bloch Sr.

  Wait a minute, Eddie thinks. I’m not finished! But Benton, apparently, is. There will be no détente, then, no gentleman’s agreement that Benton will stay away from Grace. For all Eddie knows, Grace is planning to leave him for Benton tomorrow.

  Eddie senses that Benton Coe and Hunter Bloch Sr. are talking about him. Hunter Sr. tosses his white lion’s mane of hair back and laughs. Laughing at Eddie’s expense?

  Thank God he didn’t wear the fur coat!

  Speaking of costumes, where is Allegra? Eddie pulls his phone out, which serves the additional purpose of making it seem as though he has a call to take that is far more important than this party.

  His call goes right to Allegra’s voice mail.

  Eddie hangs up without leaving a message and goes back to the bar.

  JENNIFER

  Jennifer decides to wait and tell Patrick what happened with Grayson Coker when they’re out of the house, on their way to Nantucket. This way they will be alone, in the safe cocoon of the car, and there will be no chance the kids will overhear. It’s a solid plan, but Jennifer still feels anxious. She doesn’t want to downplay what happened, because then Patrick will accuse her of making much ado about nothing. But if she explains it exactly as it happened, a confrontation between Patrick and Coke will be inevitable, giving Coke the chance to say that Jennifer was the instigator. Jennifer tries to reassure herself that Patrick is a supportive spouse. He will see it through Jennifer’s eyes. He will understand.

  When they climb into the BMW and head out of the city, Patrick lets out a cowboy whoop.

  “I can’t believe how great this feels!” Patrick says. He glances over at Jennifer. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Huh?” she says. “Yeah, of course.” Tell him! she thinks. He’s noticed the tension around her eyes. Tell him!

  “I really appreciate you agreeing to do this when you’re so busy,” Patrick says. “I feel like you’re always making sacrifices for me.”

  “Going to see your family is not a sacrifice,” Jennifer says.

  “It’s not just this,” Patrick says. “You’ve been so patient with me getting the fund up and running. You took on a project you don’t necessarily want to do…”

  “About that… ,” Jennifer says.

  “That money is critical,” Patrick says. “I hate to say it, but we couldn’t make it through the holidays without it. But by spring I should be throwing fastballs and you can take a much-deserved rest.” He taps his hands against the steering wheel as Jennifer sinks back in her seat. She can only assume that Coke has not yet received the refund of his hundred-thousand-dollar retainer; Jennifer mailed it back to him on Friday. He will likely get it today, and that chunk of cash will vanish as magically as it appeared.

  Patrick turns up the radio—Joe Cocker sings “Feeling Alright”—and Jennifer closes her eyes. She is beyond tired. She is exhausted—because she has been up the past five nights worrying about the conversation that she is supposed to be having with Patrick right now.

  That money is critical. That money is critical, so critical that Jennifer considers calling up Grayson Coker to recant. Yes, she is that desperate. She can say she is sorry there was a misunderstanding and might they start again fresh?

  What if he says no? What if he informs her that he has already hired another decorator? What if that decorator is Mandy Pell, Jennifer’s archnemesis? Of course it will be Mandy Pell. She will decorate the penthouse in a creatively formidable, evil way, and it will be featured in a six-page spread in Domino, and the next thing Jennifer knows, Mandy Pell will be credited with giving birth to the intimidation movement in decorating.

  And what about Jennifer’s self-respect? If anyone should be apologizing and asking for a fresh start, it should be Grayson Coker!

  With this thought, Jennifer falls fast asleep… and awakens when Paddy pulls into the parking lot at the Hyannis airport.

  “We’re here,” Patrick says. “How was your nap?”

  It’s probably best that Jennifer didn’t tell Patrick about Grayson Coker, because then the entire trip to Nantucket would be ruined. Instead everything unfolds seamlessly. Patrick and Jennifer have only five minutes to wait before their Cape Air flight to Nantucket boards. They are the only two people on the flight aside from the pilot, and the day is crisp and clear. The flight across the blue glass of Nantucket Sound is like a magic carpet ride.

  Jennifer will wait and tell Patrick later. She will tell him on their way home.

  Jennifer and Patrick take a taxi to the inn, where a bottle of Jennifer’s favorite chardonnay is chilling in the fridge. Jennifer and Patrick repair to their room upstairs to enjoy some much-needed alone time. Afterward they shower and get dressed, then go back down to the kitchen, where they forage for some unhealthy, nonorganic snacks. Jennifer comes up with a box of Bremner wafers, a hunk of Brie, and a can of Spanish peanuts. Bingo! As she lays out the feast, the kitchen fills with Quinns: Bart first, then Ava, then Kevin and Isabelle.

  Jennifer is reminded of just how fortunate she is. She’s an only child, and since her father’s death, her “family” has consisted of just her and her mother, Beverly. But she and Patrick have been together for so long that Jennifer truly feels like Patrick’s family is her family, and she realizes that they feel the same way about her.

  This bubble of happiness is all but popped when Jennifer goes upstairs to put on her makeup but Patrick stays downstairs because Mitzi wants to “chat” with him “real quick” before they head out to the VFW.

  When Patrick comes back to the room, he looks like he’s about to cry.

  “What?” Jennifer says. “Is it your father?” She agrees that Kelley looks very sick, but everyone’s expectations have been adjusted. Hospice has been called. Kelley has a month left, maybe two if they’re lucky.

  “It’s Mitzi,” Patrick says. “She’s going to sell the inn.”

  Jennifer nods slowly. On the one hand, she thinks selling the inn is a good idea. It’s too much for Mitzi to handle alone, and Kevin and Isabelle now have their business to run and their children to raise. Bart could help if he were at all interested, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. On the other hand, the idea of selling the inn worries Jennifer. At some point over the summer when Kelley’s health took a turn for the worse, Mitzi talked to Jennifer about what she might do next, if the unthinkable happened and Kelley didn’t get better.

  “I’d love to do what you do,” Mitzi said. “Become an interior designer. Maybe we can go into business together.”

  Jennifer murmured some vague encouragements in response, but she would never, ever, ever go into busine
ss with Mitzi. She thought about how kitschy-country charming Mitzi’s taste is. She thought about the Byers’ Choice carolers Mitzi sets out at Christmas. She tried not to shudder.

  “It might not be a bad idea,” Jennifer says to Patrick.

  “What?” Patrick says. He’s genuinely agitated; the tips of his ears are turning red. “Do you know what that would mean? It would mean we would have no place to stay here on Nantucket. We would no longer be Nantucketers.”

  “Oh,” Jennifer says. “Won’t Mitzi buy something else?”

  “She says she hasn’t decided,” Patrick says. “But she also said she might buy a condo in Sherburne Commons.”

  “Sherburne Commons?” Jennifer says. “But she’s only… what? Forty-nine? Fifty?”

  “Whatever she buys won’t be big enough for all of us to come visit,” Patrick says. “And Kevin and Isabelle don’t have room for us.”

  “So we’ll rent,” Jennifer says.

  Patrick sits on the edge of the bed and drops his head into his hands. “We should have bought when we had the chance.”

  Jennifer decides not to point out that when they “had the chance” was back when their accounts were fat with illegally gotten funds. “Please,” she says. “Let’s not ruin tonight by fretting about money. You need to get your business up and running, then we can worry about Nantucket.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand,” Patrick says. “I’m losing my father and I’m losing my home.”

  Jennifer is glad she didn’t break her news to Patrick on the way here—but is it going to be any easier on the way home? She blithely suggested they could rent, but without the penthouse project, they’ll never be able to afford it.

  She needs another project—and fast. A big client. Who are the five people in Boston richer than Grayson Coker? she wonders.

  She takes a deep breath. “Stand up,” she says. “People are waiting for us.”

  As they’re driving out to the VFW, Jennifer’s phone pings. She checks the display, expecting it to be a report from the babysitter, but she sees it’s a text from Norah Vale. Kevin is driving, Patrick is sitting shotgun, and Isabelle is seated next to Jennifer in the backseat. Jennifer feels a wave of guilt that she is receiving a message from Kevin’s ex-wife. Why is she the only person among the Quinns who is still tethered to Norah?

  Well, she knows why. The drugs.

  The drugs, even the flicker of the possibility of drugs in Jennifer’s future, are too much to resist. Maybe if she stays away from the oxy… maybe if she just sticks to the Ativan… then at least she will be able to sleep.

  She opens the text. It says: I’m assuming you’re on island for Bart’s party? Any chance you can meet me tomorrow for coffee? I’d really like to talk to you about something.

  Jennifer knows she should delete the message. Or not respond. She should definitely not respond with two glasses of wine sitting on top of her anxiety.

  Jennifer gives Isabelle a sidelong glance, then she types back: I may have some time early tomorrow. Where for coffee?

  Her phone pings a second later: Hub at 8:30?

  Okay, Jennifer responds. See you then.

  BART

  He knows his mother won’t like it, but oh well. He lifts a bottle of Patrón and two Coronas from the bar and leads Allegra Pancik out the side door of the VFW, where there is, conveniently, a small porch with a table and two chairs overlooking the scrub pines of the state forest.

  “But it’s your party,” Allegra says.

  “We’ll be back before anyone misses us,” Bart says. “My presence isn’t really required. This is a party my mother threw to make herself feel better.”

  “Parents,” Allegra says.

  Bart isn’t sure what happened, but when he saw Allegra Pancik all dolled up like a geisha, he thought: My siblings are right. I do need a girlfriend.

  And.

  There.

  She.

  Is.

  She was a freshman at Nantucket High School when he was a senior. So maybe he still has upperclassman allure? She’s not too young for him. At nineteen, she’s an adult, although not old enough to drink.

  Legally.

  “We’ll each do three shots,” Bart says. “Chased by these beers. Then we’ll go back inside.”

  “I’m in,” Allegra says.

  Tequila shot #1:

  Bart says, “Why are you still on Nantucket? Did you not go to college?”

  “Wow,” Allegra says. “Tough questions right off the bat.”

  Bart cocks an eyebrow, a trick Centaur taught him while they were still in basic training.

  “I went to UMass Dartmouth last year,” Allegra says. “Flunked out. Too much partying.”

  “So let me guess,” Bart says. “This wasn’t your first shot of tequila?”

  In lieu of answering, Allegra takes a little bow. “Now let me ask you something.”

  Bart nods.

  “Why are you still on Nantucket? You’re a war hero. Doesn’t the government give you a million dollars and a mansion in Beverly Hills?”

  “Hardly,” Bart says. He takes a long draft of his beer. Then he wants to belch, but he holds back, as he is in the presence of a lady. “I’m here on Nantucket for two reasons. One, my father is dying. Two, I don’t know what else to do.” He looks at Allegra. “And by the way, I’m not a war hero.”

  Allegra tilts her head, and Bart sees the chopsticks securing her dark bun. “No?”

  I let them take my best friend to the Pit, Bart thinks. I tried to save him, but I failed.

  “Time for another shot,” he says.

  Tequila shot #2:

  “Tell me about your family,” Bart says.

  “Well,” Allegra says, taking a ladylike sip of her beer. “I have a twin sister.”

  “You mean there are two girls on Nantucket as beautiful as you?” Bart asks.

  “Hope goes to Bucknell,” Allegra says. “She’s the smart one, I’m the pretty one.”

  “But you’re identical?” Bart says.

  “Yes,” Allegra says. “I only say that I’m the pretty one to make myself feel better. Hope is at college, and I’m working as a receptionist at my aunt and uncle’s real estate agency. Bayberry Properties, on Main Street.”

  Bayberry Properties, on Main Street. Bart makes a mental note. That’s what one is supposed to do with women—notice the little things. Maybe later this week he’ll stop by to see if Allegra wants to have lunch. Maybe he’ll send flowers.

  “What about your parents?” Bart asks. “That was your dad you came in with, right?”

  “My parents are kind of a sore topic,” Allegra says. “Until three years ago they were normal, boring parents. We lived out on Wauwinet Road in a big house that overlooked Polpis Harbor. My father used to own his own real estate company, and my mother had this enormous garden where she raised chickens.”

  “Chickens?” Bart says. His stomach lurches. He can’t talk about chickens.

  “My mother was annoying at times, and my father used to complain about how much money we were costing him. But then, over the course of one summer, my mother started having an affair with our landscaper, and my father ran a prostitution ring out in Sconset. He went to jail. He just got out in July. We lost the house in Wauwinet, and now we all live in this tiny cottage in town.”

  Bart nods. Affair. Prostitution ring. Jail. He knows he should be shocked, but if anyone has a family with weirder stories than Allegra, it’s Bart Quinn.

  “But your parents are still together?” Bart asks. “They survived?”

  “They are,” Allegra says. “They did. My mom didn’t come tonight because she’s volunteering at Academy Hill. Handing out candy.”

  “My parents are still together too,” Bart says. “And my mother had an affair.” Here he shakes his head. He eyes the bottle of tequila but drinks his beer instead. “With this guy named George who came to our inn every year to play Santa Claus.”

  This makes Allegra laugh. As it sho
uld. Because it’s absurd. Apparently, while Bart was away, Kelley and Mitzi separated. Mitzi moved with George to Lenox, Massachusetts. And Kelley entertained thoughts of getting back together with Margaret, his first wife. But love won out in the end—that’s what Mitzi said when she explained it all to Bart. She said she wanted to tell Bart everything so that there were no secrets in the family. But honestly, Bart feels like he wouldn’t have minded if Kelley and Mitzi had kept all of that a secret forever. Mitzi and George—ick! And it had been going on all the years that Bart was growing up, even back when Bart believed that George was Santa Claus.

  “My siblings are fine,” Bart concedes. “They’re my half siblings, the children of my father and Margaret Quinn, the news anchor.”

  Allegra nods like she gets it, but she may be too young to know who Margaret Quinn is. Only old people watch the news on TV.

  “Patrick and Kevin are married with kids,” Bart says. He thinks about informing Allegra that Patrick has also been to jail recently, but why not save some surprises for the second date? “Ava teaches music in New York City. She’s still single, but she’s dating some guy. A professor.”

  “Your sister was my music teacher in fifth grade,” Allegra says.

  Bart laughs. “She was?” he says. “Too bad for you.”

  Tequila shot #3:

  He’s trying to decide if Allegra might be a person to whom he can confide everything. She has good listening skills, and she seems to have a fair amount of emotional depth, more than one would expect from a beautiful nineteen-year-old. Girls who look like Allegra have life unfold easily. They get what they want. They don’t hit roadblocks. Allegra seems to have a few demons of her own, although they are nothing compared with Bart’s. She’s never been out of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. She is, in essence, him before he joined the Marines.