No Beach Like Nantucket

by Grace Palmer

  She would have to be just Sara. Her own person. Her own path. My little bull, as her dad had called her.

  “I’ve got news, too,” she announced suddenly. She felt guilty for stealing the spotlight from Holly. But then again, everyone else had gotten their turn. Now, she wanted her fifteen minutes of Benson family fame. She felt a swell of pride and defiance in her chest, burning hot. Her face was flushed with excitement.

  “What is it, Sara?” asked her mother cautiously.

  She felt all eyes on her. At the very last second, she almost changed her mind. Once she said it, there would be no going back, no putting the words back into her mouth. The thought would be out in the universe, and she’d either have to tackle the challenge she was setting herself up, or fail in the face of it. But once it was spoken, those were the only two options.

  My little bull. Gavin. Russell. Failure. Effort. The struggle, the reward. You have a gift.

  She could do this.

  “I’m opening a restaurant.”

  14

  Mae

  Oh, dear.

  A restaurant was a big deal. She knew her youngest daughter was as headstrong as they came, but was this biting off more than she could chew?

  Mae had been doubtful when Sara had first announced that she wanted to go to culinary school, nearly a decade ago. It seemed like it had somewhat come out of the blue, like Sara had just seen a magazine article that seemed interesting to her. She’d always been an impulsive thing, quick to glom onto a trend she liked and dive into the deep end head-first. There was a running joke in the family that when Sara learned how to ride a bike and drive a car, no one had ever taught her where the brakes were. She didn’t want to brake, she wanted to go go go. Sometimes, it made Mae worry an awful lot for her little girl.

  But then again, Sara was a woman, full-grown, capable of making her own decisions. And she wouldn’t take kindly to anyone telling her no. Mae had wanted to say no when Sara first brought up culinary school, but Henry had convinced her that she needed to let Sara follow her heart, as fickle as it might seem sometimes from a worried mother’s perspective. Henry saw a fire in her that Mae often mistook for volatility. Never afraid of a fight, that one, he’d say, chuckling, whenever Sara charged headlong into whatever had most recently caught her eye.

  Perhaps it was just that she and Sara were so different. Mae was cautious by nature. Henry had had to buy her nearly a half-dozen beers before she’d even talk to him that night they first met at the Harvard bar. Sara, were she in Mae’s shoes, would have charged over, grabbed him by the shirt collar, and planted a kiss right on his lips. Mae chuckled at the thought. She was a look-before-she-leapt kind of person. Sara would leap without ever checking to see if there was anywhere to land.

  Which was exactly how this felt. A restaurant. That was a big thing. It was complex, and expensive, and delicate.

  But that didn’t mean it was impossible.

  Mae could swear she felt Henry’s hand on her shoulder for just a moment, and something like his whisper in her ear. If anyone could will this thing into existence, it was Sara. She ran through walls because she never even stopped to consider whether or not they could stop her. Wasn’t that an admirable quality? Wasn’t that worth nurturing whenever she could? Yes, perhaps it was.

  They’d chitchatted about Sara’s big idea for a little while after she’d first loosed it upon them. Brent had volunteered his services to help her with any of the construction that he could. Eliza said she’d help run the books and the advertising. Mae had wanted to lend a hand of her own, but she decided first to think about how she could be most useful. She also needed a little bit of time to chew on the prospect as a whole.

  It felt like a fragile moment in her relationship with Sara. After their conflict in the kitchen on Friday night, Mae had been very wary around Sara, for fear of upsetting her further. It all stemmed from a good place in her heart—she wanted to protect her little girl from having her heart broken again. But as she was only now starting to realize, nearly three decades after she’d brought Sara into this world, living with your heart on your sleeve just meant that it was exposed sometimes. Sara lived a life of dramatic highs and depressing lows. That was her path, her role. It wasn’t such a bad thing, necessarily. Hard at times, to be sure, but not a bad thing. It wasn’t her role as Sara’s mother to make her do things differently. It was her role simply to be there when her daughter needed her.

  That was how she landed on the perfect idea for how she could contribute. Eliza had gotten a call from Oliver, saying Winter had woken up from her mid-morning nap and wanted her mother, so she’d said her goodbyes and gone home. Brent needed to go take Henrietta for a run, so he departed as well. Sara and Mae stayed behind to clean up. Mae washed, Sara dried. They worked in silence for a little bit, until the last dishes were done and put away. Then, Mae turned and rested her hand on top of Sara’s.

  “I want you to know that I support you,” she said, staring into Sara’s eyes. “In anything. Whatever you do, forever. You and I haven’t always seen eye-to-eye—”

  “That’s an understatement,” Sara murmured with a soft smile.

  “Yes, maybe it is. But you’re a beautiful, proud, intelligent woman, and I’m honored to be your mother. And, if you let me, I’d be honored to be your partner, too.”

  “My partner?” Sara said, wrinkling her nose. “What does that mean?”

  Mae chose her next words carefully. “Your father left some money behind. An insurance policy. I haven’t wanted to say anything about it—I haven’t wanted to think about it at all, actually. But I’m thinking that now might be a great opportunity to put it to some good use. This is family business, after all. I know that he would love to see his money at work to help you achieve your dreams.”

  “Oh, Mom!” Sara cried. Mae saw that she had tears pricking the corners of her eyes. They embraced. “I’m sorry, Momma,” she whimpered, pressing her face into Mae’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I love you.”

  “I love you too, honey,” Mae said, squeezing her daughter tight. She kept her eyes shut so that her own tears didn’t spill out. It felt like they’d connected for the first time in a long time. Mae hadn’t had many moments like this over the years with her daughter, and that only made this one more special.

  Eventually, the women separated, but Sara kept her grip on her mother. “I can do this,” she said, wiping the last of her tearstains from her face.

  “I know you can,” Mae said firmly. She wanted to tell Sara with her words, her tone, her body language, her whole heart, that she believed in her. “I never, ever doubted you.” Whether that was true or not didn’t matter. What mattered was that she meant it now. And she did.

  Mae tended to a few small chores after breakfast, but Sundays were generally slow around the inn, especially since almost all the guests had checked out earlier that morning to head back to their lives on the mainland. Her phone rang a little while later.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “Hi, love, how are you?” It was Toni.

  “Oh hello!” Mae said in delight. She’d been close with her sister-in-law ever since they met, and they’d grown even closer in the wake of losing Henry. They talked once every week or two, whenever Toni found time and cell-phone reception in her travels around the world to give home a ring. “I’m wonderful. How are you? What’s the latest exotic locale?”

  “That’s great to hear. Argentina, at the moment. The wine is to die for.”

  Mae giggled. “I can only imagine. Save some for us, won’t you?”

  “No promises. It’s just too good!”

  “Well, I suppose I can’t blame you. How are you getting along?”

  “I’m good,” Toni answered. “Great, actually. I don’t want to be rude, but the reception here has been god-awful, so I wanted to just fill you in on something before the call cuts out.”

  Mae frowned and took a seat on the edge of the couch. “Oh, of course! What’s going on? Is everythi
ng all right?”

  “Yes, I’m totally fine, nothing like that. The problem is actually that everything is more than all right, if that makes any sense at all. It probably doesn’t. It’s just … the world is so big, Mae! I spent almost my whole life in Nantucket, and I think now that I might’ve been missing out. Every time I think about coming home, I get this awful knot in my chest. So I decided something.”

  “I must admit, I’m a little bit confused.”

  “I’m sure. Sorry, I’m explaining this terribly. Let me cut to the chase: I’m not coming back to Nantucket.” The words hit Mae like a blow to the chest, but Toni wasn’t finished yet. “I’m not coming home, and … I’m selling the inn.”

  Mae fell back in her seat. “You’re … selling it?”

  Toni was babbling. “I know this must come as a dreadful shock, and I can’t thank you enough for all the work you’ve done in keeping it going. But I found someone who’s willing to take it over—a hospitality entrepreneur; he owns some hotels scattered around the northeast and when I mentioned Nantucket, his eyes just lit up and he made such a generous offer that I just can’t say no …”

  Mae hardly heard the rest of what her sister-in-law said. Selling the inn … After a morning of good news from her children, this was the last thing she wanted to hear. It was horrible news, actually. Mae hadn’t ever expected to end up quite where her life had taken her over the last year, but she had fallen in love with the inn and everything about it. She liked being useful and welcoming. She liked meeting guests and cooking food for them. She liked being an ambassador for Nantucket and showing people the island that had stolen her heart from the day she first arrived. Without the inn in her world, who knew where she would be? Trapped in her own memories back on Howard Street, probably. Feeling useless and unwanted. That sounded like a nightmare.

  But what could she do? She’d just pledged Henry’s life insurance payout to Sara for her restaurant, and even if she hadn’t, it wouldn’t be enough money to cover the cost of the inn. The boom of Nantucket real estate over the last two dozen years meant that property was wildly expensive.

  She needed a plan. What that would look like, she wasn’t sure. But until she had a plan, she was going to keep this to herself. She would have to take some time to think.

  Dominic came into the room a few minutes after Mae hung up the phone with Toni. He’d been on a long walk along the beach and looked tanned and content. “Good morning!” he said brightly. He must’ve seen something in her face, because his smile turned into a frown. “Is everything okay?”

  She forced herself to smile. “Everything is wonderful.” Hopefully, sooner rather than later, she would actually mean that.

  She just had to figure out how.

  Part II

  Two Weeks Later

  15

  Mae

  Friday evening.

  It had been almost two weeks since Mae’s roller coaster of a Sunday morning. She still wasn’t quite sure where her head was. There were so many things to take in—Brent was working! Eliza was leaving! Holly was moving! Sara was starting a restaurant! And then there was the bombshell of all bombshells: Toni was selling the inn. It was too much for one person to take in. But for some reason, Mae—who had never been much good at keeping secrets—found herself not wanting to talk to anybody about it. Even now, with two of her best friends standing next to her, she kept trying to find reasons to delay telling them about Toni’s news.

  Debra, Lola, and Mae were volunteering at a silent auction fundraiser held by the Nantucket Safe Harbor for Animals. It was an annual event, and the ladies were always involved. In the past, Mae had shouldered more of a leadership role—helping to wrangle donations from various businesses and to drum up excitement amongst the island’s residents—but this year, she had taken a back seat. With the inn and her granddaughter to attend to, there simply weren’t enough hours in the day to devote the proper time and attention to the silent auction. Still, she wouldn’t miss it for the world, so she made sure that Debra and Lola signed her up to help moderate the event and assist their guests as needed.

  Right now, the three ladies were manning the drinks station, passing out punch to attendees as they wandered from auction item to auction item. It gave them plenty of time to chat. Debra was talking about some upcoming changes to the middle school curriculum that she wasn’t pleased with. As a school counselor and psychologist, she was heavily involved with the local public education system. Mae was only half listening, though, as Debra told them about how disconnected and out of touch the state bureaucracy was when it came to ramming curriculum adjustments down the throats of Nantucket teachers. Really, her mind was still on the phone call with Toni.

  She’d run through it a million times over the last five days. It still didn’t quite seem real. Toni had poured blood, sweat, and tears—not to mention quite a lot of money—into the Sweet Island Inn. She’d transformed it from a ramshackle house that would’ve likely been bulldozed if it had remained on the market, into a beautiful and thriving business that drew rave reviews from anyone who stayed there. It seemed like such a shame to just let that go. A new owner wouldn’t be able to provide the same level of loving care that Toni—and then, in turn, Mae—had shown the property.

  And yet, Mae couldn’t blame her. If Nantucket was truly the home of painful memories for Toni, then maybe staying abroad and continuing to explore the world actually was the best thing for Toni. Mae cared deeply for her sister-in-law. She knew that Toni needed to mourn in her own way, just like Mae needed to mourn in hers. But what should happen when those ways were diametrically opposed?

  The truth was that the inn really had become Mae’s way to mourn, to grieve, and—bit by bit as the days went by—to find new meaning and purpose in her life. Without that, she foresaw a sad, empty future. What would selling the inn mean for her? For her guests? For Dominic most of all? Wasn’t the inn his home, too? In a weird way, yes, it was. Mae still wasn’t ready to delve into that hornet’s nest of emotions. She inevitably landed on the same thoughts every time she thought about him: he was a nice man, a good man, and she was glad he was in her life. With everything else as chaotic as it had become, she just didn’t want to go any further than that. Fortunately, he seemed content to just share her company and write his book.

  “Earth to Mae?” said Lola. “You’re in space, lady.”

  “Sorry.” Mae blushed. “You’re right. My head is all over the place today.”

  “Is something on your mind?” Debra asked.

  “No, no, nothing like that.” Truth be told, Mae didn’t want to talk about any of the things on her mind with her friends right now. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them to confide in, or that she had some ulterior motive for keeping things secret. She just felt like she had to crack this particular nut on her own.

  “I suspect a little fibbing is taking place,” Lola fake-whispered to Debra.

  “You might be on to something, detective,” Debra murmured back.

  “Enough, you two.” Mae laughed. “I will not be interrogated without a lawyer present!”

  The three women all chuckled as they continued handing out drinks. When the next wave of auction attendees had passed, Lola turned back to her. “I don’t want to press you too hard, Mae.” She laid her hand on top of Mae’s. “But we’re here for you if you need us. You know that, of course. But it’s just good to remind each other sometimes.”

  Mae smiled. Lola was right. It was easy to forget every now and then that she had good friends around her. People who loved her and cared about her. Maybe unloading some of these problems was a good idea. She still couldn’t figure out why she was so darn reluctant to do so.

  Fortunately, she didn’t have to puzzle over it for much longer. Because just then, who should walk up and ask for a glass of punch but the one and only Dominic O’Kelley.

  “Good evening, ladies,” he said in that rolling Irish brogue.

  “Well, if it isn’t Mr. O’Kelley!”
Debra said merrily. “How are you, darling?”

  Dominic nodded and smiled. “In good health and good spirits, thank you. And yourself?”

  “Well, it’s always nice to be in the presence of a famous novelist.”

  He blushed and bowed slightly. “Not so famous, I promise you. Middling at best, and for that I am thankful.”

  Mae watched the whole proceeding ruefully. She knew Debra was just trying to get a rise out of him, not actually flirting or anything like that. She was probably trying to get a little bit of a rise out of Mae herself, too, now that she thought about it. Neither Debra nor Lola had come out and said much of anything—as a matter of fact, with the exception of the always-blunt Sara, no one had commented directly on what might or might not be blossoming between Mae and Dominic—but Mae knew that both of her friends suspected that there was something there. The two of them loved poking fun at Dominic, if only to hear him demure in his melodious voice and exotic turns of phrase. Mae was perfectly content to hang back and let them banter with him.

  But Dominic wasn’t quite so content. He turned to her, and Mae could swear that his smile grew a few degrees warmer. She felt the flush rising in her cheeks. “Good evening, Mae,” he said softly.

  “Hello, Dominic.” She felt like a shy girl at the dance, batting her eyelashes and trying to disappear from the sight of the handsome boy asking her for a turn.

  He swept a hand around the room. “Have any of the items on auction caught your eye?” he asked.

  “Oh, the flowers from Soiree Floral downtown are magnificent. But I never bid,” she added. “I have rotten luck when it comes to things like that.”

  His eyes flashed behind his glasses. He had dressed up for the occasion, Mae noticed, in a dark green button-down shirt and gray slacks. He looked exactly like what he did—bookish, intelligent, handsome, polite. Like a gentleman. There was also something distinctly Irish about him. Mae could never quite put her finger on it, but his homeland radiated from him like a strong cologne. “Perhaps tonight is your lucky night, then,” he said.