And there was still too much, Olivia didn’t know.
She didn’t know, for example, that he was the son of a man her Great Aunt Marcia had had a many-year-long affair with, which was the reason Anthony had known Marcia in the first place.
She also didn’t know what he had run away from. In the distance, he could still feel his “real life” on fire. He didn’t want her to know about it. It would change her opinion of him, for sure.
Not that he knew very much about Olivia, either. Sure, he knew that she had a daughter and an ex-husband. And that ex-husband was about to have another baby with another woman. He’d gleaned that from that horrible day when Chelsea had busted her leg. Anthony had been surprised at himself that day, as he hadn’t imagined he could “jump into action” the way he had. He’d found himself suggesting a plan, and driving the truck, and carrying Chelsea into the emergency room, as though he’d done that kind of thing his entire life.
And yes, actually. He had done those things his entire life. But that was no longer his life, was it?
How would he ever tell Olivia any of this? About his father’s affair with her Great Aunt Marcia? About his past? And about the fact that maybe, the treasure didn’t matter to him at all?
He wasn’t sure. All he knew was, he wanted her to text him back. Immediately.
And in a few minutes, she actually did.
OLIVIA: Good night, Anthony. I’m really sorry about the diaries.
ANTHONY: It’s not your fault.
OLIVIA: I know. Maybe we can find a way to get them back.
ANTHONY: Maybe.
BACK ON CAPTAIN’S WALK, Olivia pressed her phone against her chest and blinked up at the ceiling. Tyler and Casey had left for their hotel room about an hour before; she could still hear the TV blaring toward Chelsea. Everything within Olivia craved for her to be next to that beautiful and considerate and intelligent man. But instead, she lay in her bed alone.
One thing did please her, though.
As Anthony sat over in the old mansion, all by himself, he thought about her, too.
That was nice.
It was nice to be thought of.
In fact, it was better than nice. It was everything.
Chapter Sixteen
Olivia entered the teacher’s lounge at just past twelve-thirty. Her mind was groggy, as though she hadn’t slept well. When she pulled open the refrigerator door, several items tumbled out from the front row. A jar of pickles, three lunch boxes, and a boxed-up thing of take-out food fell to her feet. She just blinked at them as though she had no idea what had just happened.
“Liv? You okay?” One of her teacher friends, Carrie, hustled up beside her, then dropped to a squat and began to assemble the things that had fallen to the floor. She blinked up at Olivia and furrowed her brow.
“Yeah. Um.” Olivia shook her head. “I just feel a bit out of it today, I think.”
“That’s not like you,” Carrie said brightly. One by one, she slipped the items back onto the lower shelf, then reached in to grab Olivia’s bright yellow lunch box. They’d worked together so long that everyone knew what everyone else brought to school. “I guess you’d better eat up before something else happens.”
“Right,” Olivia said. She took the lunch box and stepped back, adjusting a strand behind her ear. “Carrie —” she began.
Carrie widened her eyes. “What’s up?” She slipped the fridge door closed and crossed her arms. “Is there something going on?”
At first, Olivia toyed with what to say. Somehow, she needed a friend at this moment. Too many things felt off-kilter.
My great-aunt’s granddaughter stole things from my property.
My ex-husband is having a baby with someone else. Someone much younger.
My daughter hates me.
But worst of all —
Worst of all, I’m falling for someone hard.
Worst of all, I’m terrified I will mess everything up.
What if he doesn’t feel the same way?
What if I have to face this life alone, forever?
“Nothing,” Olivia finally recited, despite the storm in her head. “I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m a space cadet today.”
“Let me know if I can do anything,” Carrie said finally. “We have to be there for each other. Us teachers, I mean.”
Olivia sat at the table in the teacher’s lounge and stared down at her turkey, cheddar, and wheat sandwich, which she’d made dutifully for herself that morning while Chelsea had flipped through the channels yet again. Something about this morning had felt terribly useless. She’d maybe spent too much time looking in the mirror, hyper-focused on the growing crow’s feet around her eyes. She’d also thought a bit too much about Anthony, about the heartache he clearly felt over the missing diaries and all the work he’d done over the previous year. He was right: it didn’t fully matter. But maybe, just maybe, Olivia wasn’t the type of person to be pushed around anymore.
Olivia sent off a text. She felt reckless.
OLIVIA: Why don’t we just go over to where she’s staying and demand them back?
ANTHONY: You know where she’s staying?
OLIVIA: She’s still at Great Aunt Marcia’s. I know that place like the back of my hand.
Without taking a single bite, Olivia slipped her sandwich back in its wrapping, zipped back up her lunch box, and then did something she hadn’t done in over two years: she left school early. A substitute was called into man the rest of her classes. And nobody batted an eye at the idea of her departure. People did this stuff all the time — teachers without the same dedication as Olivia. She told herself she would be fully present tomorrow. This was just a phase.
Olivia returned home first to change clothes and prepare to see Anthony. There was something about her “school clothes” that didn’t exactly reek of “sexiness.” Not that I should be worried about something like sexiness. How foolish.
But as Olivia entered the front door of her place on Captain’s Walk, she heard a gasp, and then a cry of alarm, and then a whisper, “Grab your pants! Get off me!”
It was her daughter’s voice. Olivia’s heart hammered in her throat as she paused in the foyer. She couldn’t exactly see the couch, but she did hear another whispered voice.
“What is she doing home?” the deeper voice demanded. “It’s still like three hours till school is out.”
“Shhh,” Chelsea returned.
Olivia closed the door. This allowed a bubble of silence to fall over the entire house. Obviously, she’d caught her daughter in some kind of intimate act. Obviously, this was a kind of nightmare for both of them. Sure, Olivia knew her daughter was nineteen; she’d been through the lingo of “the talk”; she could do as she pleased.
But still. It was that awkward silence that no one wanted to experience at a time like this. She took one quiet step as her heart thudded in her chest at the thoughts that were now racing through her mind.
“Hello,” Olivia said finally. She stepped toward the living room to allow Chelsea into view. There, she sat, all bundled up in blankets, with her cast stretched out on the coffee table. And beside her, scrambling to put his t-shirt back on, was Xavier Collins. The moment he strung his arms into the sleeves and yanked the shirt over his head, he blinked at her with enormous, wide eyes.
There was a kind of stand-off after that. Nobody knew what to say.
Finally, Olivia mustered the strength to speak. She tried to contain the anger in her voice.
“Xavier. What are you doing here?” She cleared her throat as he dropped his eyes to his knees. “Since there are still a few more hours of school for you, I suggest you get going.”
Xavier shrugged as his cheeks burned bright red. Chelsea’s eyes flashed dangerously.
“Mom, just chill, okay?” she said.
“Enough, Chelsea!”
Olivia was getting really tired of her daughter’s attitude. She ran her fingers through her hair and made heavy eye contact with her daughter. “We
’ll discuss this later.” She then turned and walked briskly toward her bedroom. When the door was safely closed, she heard Chelsea and Xavier burst into furious whispers. She couldn’t make out exactly what they said.
Slowly, Olivia removed her school clothes, then donned tights and an ochre dress and a pair of hoop earrings. She again added a touch more makeup than was her custom. Before she returned to the chaos of her living room, however, she lifted her phone and texted the girls.
OLIVIA: I just caught Chelsea with my troubled student. He’s playing hooky. I’m having a bad-mom moment. Help.
JENNIFER: I mean, she is nineteen ...
OLIVIA: True. This student is a good kid, but he’s been so troubled lately, and I don’t want him to take Chelsea down any dark path.
MILA: I don’t know. I think you can trust her.
JENNIFER: Think about us at nineteen.
OLIVIA: Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.
OLIVIA: Chelsea just seems so lost. Even more lost than I was at that age. And between this and her dad’s new baby on the way and the fact that she can’t work right now, I’m at a loss of what to do to help her.
AMELIA: It sounds like she just needs time. Some space.
CAMILLA: Although all this is a lot easier for us to say, Liv. She’s not our daughter. We might be different about it if she was.
JENNIFER: True.
MILA: We offer endless emotional support and love, Liv. But apparently, we don’t give very good advice.
Olivia chuckled to herself as she stepped back into the hall. When she reached the living room, she found Chelsea alone. Yet again, her teenager refused to look at her. Probably, she was just embarrassed.
“We can talk about this later,” Olivia said finally. “I hope Xavier went back to school?”
“Yep,” Chelsea said. “Not that you’re there or anything.” Her words dripped with malice.
Olivia heaved a sigh. “Okay. Well. I’ll be home later.”
“Sure thing,” Chelsea said. She lifted the remote control and changed the channel swiftly, then turned up the volume.
This was Olivia’s cue to leave.
Olivia picked Anthony up at the old mansion, just outside the opened gate. There were big circles beneath his eyes, as though he hadn’t slept well, but his hello was friendly and alive and it made Olivia’s heart drum the slightest bit faster. As he buckled his seatbelt, he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been in your car before.”
“I guess not,” Olivia agreed. “Ready to judge my driving?”
Anthony laughed playfully. “If there’s anything I know about you, Olivia, it’s that you do almost everything as well as you can.”
“Type A personality? Ugh. That’s the worst. I hear that a lot,” Olivia said.
“You’re kind of type A,” he said. “But only kind of. You’re like an A minus.”
“Teacher joke. I like it,” Olivia said. She was so grateful that he made her laugh. That was such a rare thing in a man, at least in the men she’d stumbled across. She couldn’t remember the last time before he’d left that Tyler had made her do more than sigh or scream.
Good memories.
Olivia parked the car outside of Marcia’s old, beautiful, ornate house. She watched Anthony’s face as he studied it.
“I haven’t been here in a long time,” he said finally. “I always admired the place. I swear, houses on Martha’s Vineyard just have something else to them. Not something I’m used to from my old life.”
And what, exactly, had that old life been? Again, the question sprung up into the back of Olivia’s mind.
They walked up together to the front door. Olivia was glad they hadn’t called. She wanted the element of surprise. She lifted a hand to the door and rapped hard, then listened to the thump-thump-thump inside of someone coming to the door. The woman who answered was in her mid-fifties, maybe, and she wore all black and spoke with a slight accent.
“Good afternoon. May I help you?”
Olivia imagined that her great-aunt’s grandchild was the type to hire a maid. This was probably her.
“Good afternoon. My name is Olivia. I’m a close family with Marnie. Would you mind telling her that I’m here?”
The maid nodded dutifully and beckoned for them to enter the foyer. As they waited, Olivia looked at the large and beautiful painting of Marcia, there on the first landing of the circular staircase. How she wished that mischievous face would turn around the corner to greet her, just one more time.
Marnie appeared in the foyer a few minutes later. She looked immaculate, in a dress that seemed the height of current fashion, her hair done beautifully, and her nails freshly painted as they clacked against the side of her arm impatiently. Behind her stood her developer boyfriend, dressed in a similar style. Neither of them looked as though they’d ever smiled a day in their lives. Even Mila, an esthetician who bemoaned “laugh lines,” made a point to smile.
“Olivia. Hello. To what do we owe the pleasure?” Marnie asked icily.
Olivia was surprised they hadn’t been asked to sit down. She supposed they would have to hash this out here, in the foyer.
“Good afternoon, Marnie. I am really sorry that things have come to this. Lawyers and all, but I figured it was better to stop by and clear the air.”
Marnie’s eyes flickered angrily. “I see.”
“Yes, well. The mansion is turning out remarkably. You really should stop by and see it soon,” Olivia suggested sarcastically. “Unless, of course, you already have? Maybe when we weren’t home or weren’t, you know conscious.”
“I don’t know what you’re suggesting, Olivia,” Marnie snapped, indicating that she was offended by her words.
“I think you do,” Olivia retorted. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. I think you know that someone came into the house and took something of serious value.”
“Of serious value? In that place? You must be joking,” Marnie objected. Her voice softened slightly as she stepped even closer. “That big place is on the verge of becoming something, certainly. But so far as family heirlooms go, those should remain with the family. Don’t you think? Photographs, antiques, diaries—that sort of thing.”
Olivia’s heart dropped just the slightest bit.
Before she could respond, Marnie continued.
“You know, it’s a remarkable thing when you’re able to live through the days of an ancestor’s life, through the pages of a diary. I don’t suppose you’ve had that pleasure before.”
Olivia’s nostrils flared. She couldn’t think of a single response. She turned toward Anthony, who looked just as agitated.
“If you trespassed on my property,” Olivia began.
“What will you do?” Marnie asked. “And again, how could you prove something like that?”
Olivia spread her palms out across her thighs. Marnie was like a thick, impenetrable wall.
“What if we worked together to find it?” Olivia said softly then.
“Olivia...” Anthony said under his breath.
“Find what, Olivia?” Marnie asked. She flashed all of her teeth ominously. “Find what, exactly?”
A few minutes later, Olivia and Anthony found themselves back in the car. They drove in silence back to the old mansion.
“It’s too bad she wasn’t wearing those Louboutin heels when she came in to get the diaries,” Olivia said finally. “We probably would have heard her.”
Anthony heaved a sigh. “Honestly, Olivia, I’ve thought about this a lot.”
Olivia stopped the car at the intersection and turned her eyes toward his. There was such warmth behind his expression. She could have fallen into that warmth for the rest of her life.
“And what have you decided?”
“I hunted for Marcia’s grandfather’s treasure for months on months. It turned into a kind of obsession. And I never figured out exactly where it was. It’s possible that it was washed away at sea. Or who knows if it even exists. Who knows?”
<
br /> “Who knows,” Olivia breathed.
“But I do know one thing,” Anthony said. He reached across the car and placed his hand tenderly over hers, where it sat in the two-o-clock position.
Every single cell in Olivia’s body stood upright with excitement.
“I know that building this place back up with you has been a beautiful gift. And if Marnie and her ritzy boyfriend want to obsess over that treasure now, then let them. I don’t want the treasure. I want the girl.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. The red light snapped to green at the intersection, but still, she couldn’t press the gas. Every part of her wanted to kiss him because what he’d said felt like a million I-love-yous.
But before she could muster the strength, the car behind her blared its horn. She pressed the gas, and off they went without the diaries, without any kind of mystical treasure, but with an idea of a future that maybe, just maybe, they could share.
Chapter Seventeen
Olivia arrived home that night just past seven-thirty. In her arms, she carried an enormous pizza box, still warm at the bottom. She stood in the doorway between the foyer and the living room and waited, knowing that the smell of hot food would force Chelsea to turn her head. Finally, she did.
“Peace offering?” Olivia said, finally, as she lifted the box higher.
Chelsea nodded. “Okay. It will have to do.” Her smile was genuine.
Olivia grabbed some plates from the kitchen, poured them each Diet Cokes, and then positioned herself onto the couch next to her daughter. They each slid two cheesy, green-pepper-laden slices onto their plates and ate slowly as they watched a married couple bicker about what kind of tile to put in their new kitchen.
“The wife has terrible taste,” Chelsea explained. “But she bullies her husband into whatever she wants by the end. It’s hilarious to watch.”
“Wow. If they really wind up with that kitchen tile, I think it’s grounds for divorce,” Olivia said with a laugh.
“Agreed,” Chelsea replied. “But then, nobody would buy the house after the divorce. They’ll just say, ‘Look at this hideous tile,’ and move on. Too much work to fix it.”
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