No Secret Like Nantucket

by Grace Palmer

  “I haven’t gone back to the house very often since Henry passed,” she admitted in a hushed voice. “It makes me miss him too much.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “I’m sure that isn’t nice for you to hear,” Mae added. “But It isn’t as though I do not enjoy our life here. I do. Very much.”

  He laid a hand over Mae’s and squeezed. “I never doubted for a second. People can be two things at once. You can miss Henry and still love me.”

  Mae’s throat tightened. She didn’t know what to say.

  Thankfully, she didn’t have to figure it out. Dominic turned and picked up the box he’d carried down to the beach. Mae had almost forgotten about it.

  “I have a gift for you,” he said, “and I think you should open it.”

  “I thought I told you no gifts!” she crowed. “That is a very strict rule in my household.”

  He winked. “Sue me.”

  Chuckling in dismay, Mae took it from him and carefully opened the cardboard lid. After sifting through a bundle of tissue paper, she saw a neatly folded square of fabric—the white backside of what looked to be a quilt.

  Pulling it out, she stood up and let it unfold in the air in front of her. When she saw the care and detail, she gasped.

  A family tree took up the center of the blanket. Mae’s name was stitched into the topmost branch. The other branches filtered downward and outward, the embroidered names of each member of her family set into delicate green leaves. There was space enough to add grandchildren further down, and lying beneath the tree like roots was a nautical map of Nantucket and the surrounding sea.

  It was hand-quilted and personalized. Likely commissioned months ahead of time. The thoughtfulness was enough to bring tears to Mae’s eyes.

  Then she caught the name stitched into the top right of the quilt, and the tears spilled over.

  Dominic ran his hand over Henry’s stitched name and laid his other hand on Mae’s shoulder.

  “Henry is a part of this family, Mae. A part of your family and your life. I don’t want you to ever have to apologize for missing him or loving him.”

  Mae was too busy wiping away tears to respond, but Dominic understood how touched she was. He pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  “He helped you raise a wonderful family full of people I’m beyond grateful I get to know. Including you. And if you don’t want to go back to the house you shared with him, we can stay somewhere else.” Dominic shrugged. “I’ve never been much of one for camping, but surely between the two of us we can operate a tent.”

  Mae sniffled with teary laughter and folded the blanket over her arm. “Thank you.”

  Dominic nodded. “Just know: you don’t need to hide your feelings from me.”

  “It seems I can’t,” she sniffled. “Even when I try.”

  “If being in your old house upsets you, be upset. Feel what you need to feel. Believe me, I know grief isn’t always linear.”

  Dominic had lost a loved one, too. His young daughter, decades earlier. He understood where Mae was coming from.

  “Thank you,” Mae said again. The words seemed insignificant in the face of his beautiful gift and even more beautiful words, but it was all Mae could manage to say.

  Dominic kissed her forehead again. “You’re welcome.”

  They sat there for a moment, curled against each other, as the day broke open wide and hot and delightful around them. Seagulls swirled in the distance, cawing for scraps. Little crabs scurried across the scarred face of the sand.

  And the waves—endless, roiling, perfect—kept on coming, one after the next after the next.

  It was hers.

  It was home.

  It was Nantucket.

  5

  Holly

  Midday—Pete & Holly’s House

  “Cufflinks?” Pete asked, turning from the closet with a black case in his hands.

  Holly laughed. “I was just about to ask about the diamond earrings. Too much?”

  Pete’s eyes pinched together in concern. “Maybe we should call Eliza.”

  Holly would be lying if she said she hadn’t considered it. But no. They did not need her older sister telling them how to be sophisticated adults.

  Just because Holly spent most of her time up to her elbows in grass stains and macaroni noodle crafts didn’t mean she couldn’t be classy when the situation called for it.

  “It’s an outdoor luncheon. Skip the cufflinks and roll the sleeves of your shirt,” she said confidently. “If you’re underdressed when we get there, you can roll the sleeves down. Otherwise, you’ll look collected and casual.”

  “This is why I keep you around,” he teased.

  Holly and Pete were going to the inaugural awards luncheon at his law firm. His maritime and property firm had humble beginnings, but Pete and his partner, Billy, had come a long way. From starting out in a microscopic back room borrowed from a friend, they’d upgraded into a new office in a gleaming, remodeled firehouse. Pete had insisted they keep the fireman’s pole—because of course he had—but almost everything else had been revamped, redone, and refurbished. It looked fabulous.

  And it wasn’t just the two of them anymore. Pete and Billy had brought on enough employees to warrant an awards luncheon. They wouldn’t fill a stadium anytime soon, but the courtyard behind the firehouse would be full to bursting, Holly guessed.

  Pete rolled his sleeves and checked his appearance in the full-length mirror, tilting his chin this way and that, admiring himself. When he spun back around, his smile was bright, eyes hooded. “Are you swooning? Because I look amazing.”

  “And not lacking for confidence.”

  “How could I, when I’ll have the prettiest woman in attendance on my arm?” He stepped forward and twirled Holly into a graceless dance move. She tripped over her feet, but Pete caught her before she could fall.

  “Smooth,” she chuckled, both to herself and her husband.

  She liked seeing him like this. Cheerful. Optimistic. Playful.

  Living in Plymouth, Pete’s job had nearly swallowed him whole. All of the things Holly had always loved about him had faded. He’d been a diminished version of himself. Overworked and overextended. He’d barely had enough energy to make it through the door at the end of the day and drop down onto the couch, let alone play with the kids or help Holly run the house. The stress of it all had nearly torn them in two.

  Now, living in Nantucket with Pete running his own business, their life had balance again. An effortless harmony that filled Holly with hope.

  There were still late nights. Running your own business was a big task for anyone to undertake. But Pete managed his hours well. Rather than coming home at the end of the day worn down and numb, he came home invigorated. Excited to be with his family. Excited to be a father and husband.

  Pete wrapped his arm around Holly’s lower back and curled the other hand around her jaw. His finger brushed her earlobe.

  “Wear the diamond earrings.”

  “Are you sure?” Holly asked, standing up and taking Pete’s place in front of the mirror. “I don’t want to be too showy.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “Believe me—whatever you choose will be tame compared to Cecilia.”

  Holly bit back a groan. She and the wife of Pete’s business partner, Cecilia, had mostly buried the hatchet. But Holly still found herself reluctant to embrace the woman with open arms.

  On one hand, Cecilia’s mean-spirited comments and haughty attitude stemmed from insecurity. She was jealous of Holly’s ability to have children. But still, that was hardly an excuse to be a witch.

  Plus, despite it all, Holly still found herself jealous of Cecilia from time to time. The woman exuded an air of effortless chicness. Never a hair out of place, never an eyelash uncurled.

  Holly wanted to exude the same air as Cecilia today. To impress the other employees and clients, yes, of course. But also to make Pete proud. She wanted his compliment to be true.
For today, she wanted to feel like the prettiest woman in the room. No matter how shallow that made her sound.

  “I’m still not sure about the dress,” she admitted, pinching the lacy material between her fingers and pulling it away from her body.

  The white, floral dress gathered at the waist and then flared down to just above her knees. It had cost her a small fortune at Dahlia’s Dress Barn and toed the line between garden party and cocktail dress.

  The problem was less about the dress and more about the lack of it. Especially up top.

  “This neckline is too low, I think,” she said, leaning forward and back, eyes trained on the flappy bit of fabric just above her chest. “I’m afraid it’s going to flop open.”

  “I think you look amazing,” Pete said, leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek. “But you’ll do whatever you think is best in the end.”

  Pete wasn’t wrong. They’d been together long enough that her husband knew he had no ability to change Holly’s mind when it came to her clothes. He could tell her she looked great until he was blue in the face, but Holly would still change three more times before they left the house.

  Not for the first time, Holly was jealous of Pete. Of men in general, really. She’d spent four hours at the Dress Barn trying on anything that fit.

  Pete was wearing the same suit pants and white button-down shirt he wore to his cousin’s wedding the year before.

  He looked good, though. Holly had thought that since the first time she’d ever seen him in a tux. Pete had arrived for Senior Prom photos in his freshly washed and waxed two-seater car wearing a white tuxedo with a ruffled baby blue shirt underneath.

  The pictures made her laugh until she cried now. But oh, back then, how Holly had swooned! And, even though she hadn’t admitted it to Pete, she was swooning now, too.

  “You wait downstairs and I’ll be down in ten, no matter what,” she promised.

  Pete eyed her dubiously before saluting her farewell and marching down the stairs. She heard the click of the television and the babble of daytime sports chatter emerge.

  Meanwhile, Holly turned to her closet, determined.

  After considering her options, Holly decided a jacket was too bulky, a shrug blouse made the dress look out of proportion, and nothing else even came close to matching besides a scarf she’d worn only once since returning to Nantucket. It being June, though, a scarf was out of the question.

  “I just won’t bend over,” she muttered to herself, grabbing her white clutch and a large sunhat.

  Pete was sitting on the couch in his spot, as relaxed as could be. He was visibly shocked when Holly came down the stairs.

  “This might be a record,” he said, looking at his watch. “If we leave now, we’ll actually be ten minutes early. Billy won’t know what to do with himself.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of making us late to your big day, hot shot.”

  “Perfect. As the host of the evening, I oughta be the first smiling face everyone sees as they arrive. ‘Best Handshaker in the Northeast’—that’s what they used to call me in law school.”

  “Pete, honey, I knew you back then, remember? No one in history has ever called you that.”

  He winked and laughed. “Oh, how wrong you are, sunshine.” He grabbed the car keys off the coffee table and extended his elbow to her. “Ready?”

  Holly smiled and began to nod before she caught something out of the corner of her eye. On the corner of the kitchen island sat a box of fruit punch juice pouches.

  She winced. “Oh no! I forgot to take the juice.”

  “What?”

  “The juice. To go with the cupcakes.” When Pete’s face was still blank, Holly’s eyes widened. “For Grady’s birthday. I took snacks with him to share with the other kids.”

  “Oh, darn,” Pete said with a shrug. “That’s okay. It’s a summer camp. I’m sure they’ll have something for the young’uns to drink.”

  “I don’t know. This place is a stickler. Do you not remember the handbook they gave us with all the rules?” Holly chewed on her lip. “Should we swing by and drop these off?”

  Pete looked panicked. “No. No, we shouldn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “We are going to arrive at the luncheon at the perfect time as it is.”

  “But it’s his birthday,” Holly protested.

  “And we’ll make it up to him tonight at his party. He can drink all the juice pouches by himself if he wants.”

  “That would make him sick.” She dragged her finger along the colorful cardboard box, guilt settling in her core. “He didn’t even want to go this morning. Did you hear him? He asked if he could stay home. But I convinced him to go because he’d have a party.”

  Pete grabbed Holly’s shoulders gently and pulled her towards the door, coaxing her along with gentle words. “And cupcakes are still a great party. The kids will mainline their sugar and drink their water and it will be fine. I promise.”

  “I just don’t want anyone teasing him about it.”

  “Who on Earth would do that?” Pete asked, opening the garage door and stepping backwards down the steps.

  It didn’t escape her notice that he was trying to coax her to the car. “I don’t know. One of the counselors mentioned yesterday that there had been a little something going on. Not quite bullying, I don’t think, but in that realm. She wasn’t very specific.”

  “I’m sure it has nothing to do with Grady,” Pete dismissed, unlocking the car doors with the fob. A mechanical thunk echoed around the garage. “He’s a good kid. Confident. He won’t let himself be bullied.”

  Pete pulled open the passenger door and held Holly’s hand as he helped her into the car.

  “Believe me, hon, everything will be fine. Grady will have a great time today and we’ll have a fun birthday party for the little rascal tonight. But for now, you and I are going out on the town.”

  Holly still felt guilty about sending Grady away on his birthday, but Pete was right. The kids were having fun at nature camp, Holly and Pete were going to have their first adult outing in far too long, and at the end of the day, they’d all reconvene and celebrate together at the inn with Mom.

  Aside from the juice pouches, everything had gone perfectly so far. Holly didn’t want to jinx it by worrying.

  She smiled and Pete gave her a wink before he shut her door.

  The luncheon was held in the courtyard behind the old firehouse—now Pete’s offices.

  Holly had taken lead on buying the furniture and decorations for the inside of the building, which had gone well after some initial bumps and bruises. But a professional landscaper had worked on the courtyard—and goodness, how it showed!

  The center of the space was a simple square of grass, but bundles of wildflowers grew in the flower beds along the fence. They’d exploded into blooms of every color imaginable since Holly had seen them last. And the white stone pavers set into the grass to create a square path around the perimeter gave it a royal garden vibe.

  For celebratory purposes, a large white tent stood proudly in the center, draped with tulle and a crystal chandelier hanging from the center point.

  “Pete, this looks amazing.” Holly knew Pete wanted it to be a lavish affair, but this was more than she’d ever imagined. “Do you have the budget for this?”

  Pete tossed his head back and laughed. “Ha-ha. Do you think I bother myself with the matter of money?”

  “Yes,” Holly said flatly.

  “Once you reach a certain level of success, such petty things don’t matter, Hollyday.”

  Holly raised a brow, not buying his rich man persona. She did the budget with him once per month and knew money was no petty thing at all. At least, not in their household.

  He grinned at his own joke and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Only joking. The owner of Soiree Floral is a client and offered to help with the decorating for a reduced rate.”

  That explained the centerpieces. Blue and white vases sat in the center of each table with s
oft pink peonies, red roses, white carnations, and green poms for filler. The perfect snapshot of a Nantucket summer.

  “And the food?” Holly asked, tipping her head towards the tables of food with servers in white coats bustling around them.

  “I happen to know the owner of Little Bull,” Pete said.

  “Sara helped you?”

  “I paid her full price,” he said as a matter of pride. “She is booked solid, but managed to make some things ahead of time.”

  “That was nice of her,” Holly murmured.

  If she’d known Pete was going to ask Sara for help, she would have done it. Her youngest sister could certainly handle her own, but she never seemed to know when to say “no” to helping family out. Holly hoped Sara hadn’t overextended herself.

  “Sara actually offered to make the food. I didn’t even have to ask,” Pete continued. “She heard about the luncheon and figured it would be good exposure. There are a lot of bigwigs at this thing, and a newer restaurant can always use the publicity, I suppose.”

  Holly was touched Pete thought of her sister—on his own, without so much as a suggestion from her—but she was also impressed.

  She’d never been the kind of person who found success all that attractive. It wasn’t a selling point for her, at least. She always knew there was a possibility she and Pete would amount to nothing, but so long as they had each other and their family, they could weather any storm.

  Which is why she’d been surprised to found how attractive success was on her husband. Pete had gained a newfound confidence this last year, and it looked very good on him indeed.

  The ruffled blue shirt might belong firmly in their high school days, but Holly felt a little swoony again nonetheless.

  “What kind of bigwigs?” Holly asked, sipping on her champagne. “Any movie stars?”

  “Brad Pitt RSVP’d as a maybe,” he teased.