Nobody, not once in Olivia’s entire life, had called her a lady and tried to treat her as such.
But when Olivia awoke, she stretched her arms up into the glowing light of the morning, turned her head toward the desk, and realized with a funny jump in her gut that the stack of diaries from her Great Aunt Marcia’s grandfather was no longer there.
She leaped to her feet and rushed to the desk to make sure. The door remained cracked open, and she whipped through it and ran down the stairs to find Anthony still asleep, all stretched out on the couch with his feet propped up on one side. There, with her hand on her heart, she cried, “Anthony! Where are the diaries?”
And when he opened his eyes, groggy and still half asleep, Olivia knew that the diaries had been taken. Someone had broken in.
Chapter Fourteen
The culprit was obvious. Both Anthony and Olivia knew that Marnie had been involved in some way and that the incident had happened because Marnie suspected Olivia and “that handyman” knew much more about the “treasure” than she’d thought they did. But Anthony’s anger over the situation surprised Olivia a great deal. He paced near the window with his hands latched behind his back and grumbled about all the “hard work” he’d put in, all the hours he’d spent going through the diaries. “I felt like I was really close,” he said. “I would have found it before the spring.”
Olivia flashed her phone up from her purse to find the time. It was just past seven, which meant she had a little less than an hour to run home, shower, change clothes, and then get back up to school for first period.
“We’ll have to go over there and demand them back,” Anthony continued. “It’s not right that they snuck in here onto your private property. It’s —”
“Let’s talk about this later,” Olivia said. She dotted her hand across her cheek. She knew her face was streaked with eyeliner and mascara, and her head pounded with a forty-something version of a hangover. Fun. “I have to get to school.”
ANTHONY’S EYES WERE heavy with disappointment when she departed. This hadn’t been the way she’d wanted to say goodbye.
When Olivia entered her house that morning, she found Chelsea already awake and on the couch. At first, she wolf-whistled and said, “Where have you been, Missy?” But she soon shut her lips and scrunched her nose. “Seriously. Are you okay?”
“I’m just late,” Olivia said. “You need anything? Cereal or coffee or?” But before Chelsea could answer, Olivia rushed into her bedroom and undressed. Once in the shower, she scrubbed her armpits and her legs and the space along the back of her neck, where her headache had congregated.
Once she was out of the shower, Olivia ran a brush through her hair, donned an old black dress, and then rushed back into the kitchen, where she found Chelsea up on her crutches. She passed her mother something wrapped in tinfoil and said, “Here. It’s a breakfast sandwich. If you’re hungover, that should fix it.”
Olivia arched an eyebrow toward her only daughter. Her first instinct was to insist that she wasn’t hungover at all, but she knew the bags under her eyes told a different story.
“I got kind of carried away,” she told her. Olivia gave her daughter a thankful, loving smile before turning on her heel.
“Have a good day at school, honey,” Chelsea said, teasing her. “I’ll pick you up at three-thirty.”
“Funny girl,” Olivia quipped as she slipped the sandwich into her backpack and headed out the door. As she walked toward work, she felt a heaviness fall over her shoulders. She wasn’t even entirely sure why this whole theft had bothered her so much. She just hated the uneasy feeling of having been taken advantage of by people she was actually related to. And plus, there was the comedown of the wonderful (albeit no-physical-touch-involved) night she’d spent with Anthony. She really couldn’t avoid her feelings anymore.
During the first period of class, Olivia found herself frequently spacing out as students argued over an essay she’d assigned them. Mid-way through the discussion, one of her A students raised her hand and insisted that Olivia say that one of the other student’s arguments was “misguided.” Olivia just gaped at her, as she hardly remembered what the other student had said.
It was one of Olivia’s worst days of work ever. She forced herself through one period after the next until she finally arrived at period seven and sat down in front of her desk and blinked out at her senior-year students. With all the strength she had left, she announced, “Guys, I don’t feel my best today, so why don’t you each write me a five-hundred-word essay about what you got so far out of reading Madame Bovary. We’ll leave it at that for now.”
After the final bell rang, Olivia followed after her students and then snaked out of the building and into the blissful bright sunlight of the early February day. She walked, as though in a dream, all the way back to her house. But when she found herself at the base of the driveway, her heart dropped into her gut.
A mysterious car was parked alongside hers. She’d never seen it before. But it was shiny and expensive and it told her that someone was inside her house, without her knowledge.
She had a hunch who it might be.
When she opened the door, she discovered them together: Chelsea, her leg propped up on the coffee table, her makeup all done-up and her smile bright. Beside her on the couch sat a woman Olivia had never seen in person and across from them sat Tyler Radcliffe, the man who’d once stolen her heart and ripped it into four thousand separate pieces.
“Hello,” Olivia said, as all three of them turned their heads to face her.
“Liv, hey!” Tyler rose up and headed her way. Once there, he actually dotted a kiss on her cheek and then leaned back and said, “Wow, how long has it been? It’s great to see you.”
Olivia furrowed her brow in confusion. “Good to see you too?” It really did come out like a question, as though she wasn’t sure if she was. “I didn’t know you planned to visit the Vineyard.”
Tyler shrugged and stepped back toward his girlfriend. “I want you to meet my girlfriend, Casey. She and Chelsea haven’t spent so much time together, and I wanted to make sure they got to know each other better. Plus, you know, my mom still lives here. I have to stop by every now and again.”
“Right. Of course,” Olivia heard herself say. It was like someone else had taken over her body.
“You have such a wonderful house,” Casey complimented. Her voice was bubbly and reminded Olivia of long-ago times when Jennifer and Michelle and Mila had practiced their cheerleading routines. “I hope we’re not too much trouble, stopping by like this.”
“Chelsea says she took quite a fall,” Tyler said as he stepped back toward his chair. “You two really know how to keep me out of the loop.”
Chelsea snapped her eyes toward her mother. Her look told her, don’t you dare tell him I broke my leg right after he told me about the pregnancy.
“It was really scary when it happened,” Olivia admitted. “But she’s on the way to healing. Aren’t you, Chels?”
“Sure,” Chelsea said. “It’s been kind of nice. Like a vacation.”
“I’m sure the diner misses you,” Tyler said. His blue eyes glowed strangely. “I’m sure your mom told you that we used to go to that very diner all the time on dates, back in the day.”
Chelsea again gave Olivia an incredulous look. “No. She never mentioned it.”
“I forgot, actually,” Olivia lied.
After the day she’d had, this was literally the last thing she needed: a surprise visit from her ex-husband, his newly pregnant girlfriend, and all the love they shared in the world. It all lingered right there before her, on terrible display, sitting right where she wanted to sit to just relax for the rest of the day.
“Can I get you guys something to drink?” Olivia heard herself ask.
Oh, but drinks wasn’t where she stopped. Nope. Within the hour, Olivia found herself in the kitchen, prepping to make the four of them tacos. She cracked open a bottle of wine and poured herself a hefty
glass, as Tyler told Olivia a story about his new job over in Boston and how important his career was to him now. Olivia mumbled to herself. “Oh yeah, I’m Tyler Radcliffe, and I left my wife and kid to go find myself. Blah blah blah.”
As the ground beef heated on the stovetop, Olivia texted her girlfriends for mental backup.
OLIVIA: You’ll never guess who stopped by, unannounced.
JENNIFER: The Pope?
MILA: Britney Spears.
AMELIA: You guys. She’s obviously upset. It’s Tyler, isn’t it?
OLIVIA: Naw, it’s the Pope. :P
CAMILLA: I’ll bet you’re cooking him dinner right now, aren’t you?
OLIVIA: It’s taco night.
JENNIFER: Olivia! You should have kicked him out.
OLIVIA: Right. And make Chelsea hate me even more.
JENNIFER: She’s a tricky one, isn’t she?
MILA: Only since she’s been born.
OLIVIA: I’m sure she’d be proud to know you think that. She tries her best.
Olivia arranged several tacos out onto large blue plates and lined the dinner table. She then poured herself and Tyler glasses of wine and Chelsea and Casey glasses of water. A few minutes later, she found this rather unlikely and unwelcome collection of “family members” at her table. Tyler rapped the wood just before he sat and said, “I remember when I picked this table up at that garage sale. Fifteen bucks! Guess we got our money’s worth.”
Olivia’s nostrils flared as she sat. Casey made eye contact with her and said, “He’s loosened up a little bit on the money front. He would never let me buy anything new. It always had to be second-hand. That was his motto.”
“Good to hear he’s changed under your watch,” Olivia said, through nearly gritted teeth.
Olivia sat back for a bit throughout the meal to listen as Casey talked about the pregnancy to Chelsea, who seemed overly eager to learn about it. Obviously, this was some kind of act, although Olivia knew that Chelsea was overjoyed that her father was in the house again. Her eyes literally sparkled.
“And you’ll really have to come up and spend a weekend with us to help us prep the baby room,” Casey said. “I need your help picking out colors.”
“And you’ll love our new neighborhood in Boston,” Tyler added. “There’s this adorable cafe on the corner that we like to go to. I can just picture you working there.”
Suddenly, Casey furrowed her brow, placed her hand over her mouth, and then erupted back off the chair. Hurriedly, she rushed out toward the hallway, which led to the bathroom. Tyler scrunched his nose and said, “Sometimes, nausea hits her at the weirdest times.”
Olivia grumbled inwardly, stood, and headed out toward the hallway to check on her. She suddenly hated Tyler, and she couldn’t stand his girlfriend even though she hadn’t asked for any of this. As she paused outside the partially-cracked door, she rapped softly on the wood and said, “Are you okay? Can I get you something? Crackers or some water?”
Casey sputtered and said, “It was a false alarm, I guess. But ugh. I’m sorry to embarrass myself like that at dinner.”
Olivia allowed the silence to stretch between them before she answered. “It’s okay. Really.”
Casey opened the door again and peered out. For the first time, her eyes connected with Olivia’s. Olivia was reminded of long-ago eras, when she’d told herself, beyond anything, she wasn’t good enough for Tyler. She supposed that was still true. Casey, however, was just good enough, she guessed. They were perfect.
“I told Tyler to ask you before we stopped by,” Casey said suddenly.
The words shocked her. Olivia opened her lips and said, “It’ okay, really.”
“I told Tyler that we shouldn’t surprise you like this. But you should have seen Chelsea’s face when she opened the door. She freaked.”
Olivia sighed. “She does love her dad.”
“I just hope you know that I understand how this is probably really weird for you,” Casey said finally.
“Thank you for understanding. It is a bit.”
Casey bit her lip and pondered this for a moment. Olivia hadn’t expected to receive such understanding from her. After a long pause, Olivia spoke again.
“Just promise me that it will be like this the whole time.”
Casey arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I need you to think about Chelsea throughout the pregnancy and into your baby’s life. Chelsea loves her dad. She’ll love this baby to pieces. Just think of her as much as possible in all situations. It’s what she needs.”
Chapter Fifteen
It had been a difficult road.
Anthony had arrived on the island only a year before, and throughout that year, he’d experienced some of the great depths of human emotion — everything from loneliness to ecstasy to fear to anxiety. Throughout, his only real friend had been that wonderful, whip-smart old lady, Marcia. When she’d passed on, he hadn’t known what would happen to him next. He’d been in for a huge surprise.
Marcia had been the first to tell him about the potential of treasure. He could still hear her say the words in that bright voice of hers. “My grandfather was quite a character. He liked to keep things a bit fantastical, you know? Like this was a great big storybook, and he just wanted us all to know we were the characters in an adventure. That kind of thing. I guess that’s why he put all these clues in his diaries. None of us have ever been able to decipher what the heck he meant. And Anthony, darling, I don’t really have the time or the inclination to go through them. If you want to, then be my guest.”
In the wake of that, with nothing else to do, Anthony had fallen down a kind of rabbit hole of stories, all written out by Marcia’s grandfather. Alongside the clues, he’d learned a great deal about the long-dead man and his way of life and had even gotten a number of ideas about how to build back up the old mansion. It was like he could feel the way the old life had been within the walls of the place, just by reading his words.
Now, after nearly eight months of diving through the diaries and digging through various parts of the grounds, the diaries had been taken. With this theft, Anthony felt that a piece of himself had been taken, too. He hated to admit this. After all, he’d once been so much more than just a handyman. He’d had a life somewhere else.
He had noticed that when Olivia had asked him about this, about his past, he’d shut down the conversation just as quickly on purpose. Her eyes had reflected a sense of curiosity. Probably, he’d acted like he hid something from her. In actuality, he did. He didn’t want her to see the darkness of his past. He wanted to be just exactly as he was on the Vineyard: confident and powerful, with a plan of action for the old mansion.
She didn’t need to know the other stuff.
Then again, Olivia had been an even greater surprise than Marcia and the old mansion. When she’d first appeared at the front door, he’d balked at the idea of anyone else being involved in the restoration project. In his mind, the project represented his stupid year alone, and he’d been bound to do it by himself. But after only a matter of minutes, he’d seen something in Olivia’s eyes that he’d understood — this idea that maybe, just maybe, she was just as lost as he was. She’d also fallen for the old historic building in a similar way. He liked this about her. No — like wasn’t even the right word.
Now, he placed his face in his hands and thought about what to do. He sat in front of a blazing fire in the main room, which he’d built up with his own hands about seven months before, and now appreciated every day with such a big heart of gratefulness. If it wasn’t for Marcia, where the heck would he have sat now? He’d had nothing back there. Now, he had all this.
But he didn’t have the diaries.
Throughout his search through them, he’d known, in some respects, that whatever the treasure was, it didn’t matter so, so much. He’d grown obsessive in his quest, but only because it allowed him to forget about all the stuff he’d left behind and all the things he felt he’d “fail
ed.”
Still, those failures snuck upon him. Still, he was reminded of all he’d abandoned and lost.
Especially now that he didn’t have the diaries to fall back on, at yet another end of the day.
He checked his phone. Nobody had texted or emailed him, although this wasn’t necessarily outside of the norm. The clock read just past ten at night, which was a little late for any correspondence. Still, there was darkness in his heart, and he wanted to reach out to someone, to anyone.
And his fingers chose Olivia. The only person he felt close to in the world just then.
ANTHONY: Hey. I’m sorry for freaking out about the diaries. I just couldn’t believe someone would break in like that.
It didn’t take Olivia so long to text back. He wondered what she was up to. It was difficult for him to picture her, as he’d never been to her house in the center of Edgartown.
OLIVIA: And I’m just sorry my cousins are so selfish.
ANTHONY: Second cousins, at least.
OLIVIA: Yes, at least. Very distant, evil relatives.
There was a pause. Anthony wanted to say the right thing. Anything to make her laugh.
Finally, Olivia texted back.
OLIVIA: But maybe we’ll find it on our own. I don’t think they’ll be able to decipher the diaries as well as you’ve been able to.
ANTHONY: Maybe. It did take me a long time to get through your great-great-great uncle’s clues.
OLIVIA: I can imagine.
Anthony thought about a few things to type next as his thumb hovered over the little notepad on his phone. He tried to think of a few things to text her. Why don’t you come over tonight to go over my notes? And You know, maybe the treasure doesn’t matter that much. This boutique hotel will make a killing, anyway. He also tried out things like, And you know, if you’ll have me, I would love to stay on as handyman of this old place. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to say goodbye.
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