The three of them gathered around the table outside. From there, the sound of the waves rushed through the salty air, and Janine felt her shoulders loosen just the slightest bit. There was certain calmness, a sereneness to the view. For a moment, as she gazed out at the horizon, she could pretend that this wasn’t one of the strangest days of her life.
The food was delicious. Janine ate slowly, savoring each flavor that rolled over her palette.
“It’s really incredible, Elsa,” she complimented after a few bites. “I don’t think I’ve had seafood like this ever in my life.”
“Thank you. The restaurants around here make some delicious seafood dishes, but I’ve always loved making my own,” Elsa said with a smile. “But it also helps that the seafood is fresh off the boats, so the dishes taste as fresh as they can get.”
Janine sipped a bit of her chardonnay. “Have you spent much time in the city?”
“I went there on trips with my husband,” Elsa told her. “He loved it and sometimes even talked about moving there. I always told him he could go without me. The Vineyard has always been my home.”
As Elsa said it, her eyes flashed the slightest bit of sadness. Janine furrowed her brow.
“Where do you live on the island?” she asked. It was better to make small talk, maybe.
“My husband and I raised our children not far from here,” Elsa told her. “Three of them. Cole, Mallory, and Alexie. Alexie’s away at NYU, actually. Her father was so proud of her for that.”
Janine’s heart bulged slightly at the use of past-tense. She sensed a horrible story.
“But I’ve stayed here the past year or so,” Elsa continued. Her voice broke slightly. “I grew up in this house, and it seemed fitting to come here after my husband died.”
Janine pressed her lips together. The devastation hit her like a wave. “I am so sorry to hear that, Elsa. Really.”
Elsa gave a light shrug. “Cancer. Nothing you can do when it chooses you, sometimes.”
Nancy reached across the table and gripped Elsa’s hand. Her own eyes were now rimmed with tears. “We’ve had a hell of a year, haven’t we, Elsa?”
Elsa’s voice broke. “Your mom has been there for me in every way.”
“And Elsa’s been there for me,” Nancy affirmed. “We both lost so much this year.”
Janine turned her eyes toward her uneaten crab. She suddenly felt horribly exposed and strange. Yes — her best friend in the world and her husband had had an affair, and she now felt cast out from her life of luxury. But other people had problems as well, much bigger issues.
Worst of all, other people had people to lean on. Nancy Remington had Elsa; Elsa had Nancy.
Janine felt like a stranger— a daughter that didn’t exist. Now, she looked at the woman who filled her spot. And, honestly, she didn’t know how to feel about that. It was clear to her, from the look Nancy gave Elsa now, that Elsa and Nancy’s relationship was stronger than Nancy and Janine’s had ever been. She imagined them sitting at that very table, late into the night, speaking and sharing their most important thoughts and secrets.
What was this feeling? Jealousy? Anger? Whatever it was, Janine wasn’t sure what to do with it.
“And now, your mother has mentioned that you might be — well,” Elsa furrowed her brow as she dropped her eyes to the table.
“Getting divorced?” Janine interjected. Shame fell over her shoulders. “I guess so. Yes.” She swallowed another bite of crab as silence enveloped them.
Finally, she said, “That lodge is quite something. Nancy took me on a tour when I arrived earlier.”
Elsa’s eyebrows raised high on her forehead, probably at Janine’s calling her mother by her first name. After a beat, Elsa said, “Dad and Nancy and I did everything for that place. It’s our life.”
“I can see why,” Janine returned.
“I do miss it.” Elsa studied the waterline, deep in thought. “But I just don’t know how we could ever return to it. Dad was the driving force behind everything we did. His death was such a surprise. Sure, he had a few health problems, but I thought, we thought —”
“We definitely thought we had many more years together,” Nancy affirmed tenderly.
After dinner, Janine helped wash the plates, pots and pans. Elsa then led her to her bedroom, on the second floor, with a large window that overlooked the water and an ensuite bathroom. It was still only late afternoon, but Janine confessed she was exhausted and wanted to take a few hours to herself. Elsa looked hesitant, as though she wanted to say something to make up for the awkwardness between them.
Finally, she mustered, “Your mother is really something special. She’s been my saving grace.”
Janine gave a slight shrug. Before she knew it, she blurted out, “It’s pretty difficult for me to imagine that, to be honest.”
Elsa’s eyes grew shadowed. She studied Janine’s face for a long moment, then stepped back into the hallway. She seemed to want to say a million things but didn’t know where to start.
“Let me know if you need anything at all or if you want to borrow the car or anything. Our home is your home for as long as you want it. Nancy has said this over and over again since you agreed to come.”
Janine’s heartfelt wounded. How desperately she wanted to explain herself — and all the bad blood she and Nancy had together. But Elsa was just a stranger and there was no way she would understand. Besides, it didn’t concern her.
“Thank you,” she said instead as she slowly closed the door.
Once alone, Janine called her eldest daughter. Maggie answered on the second ring, and her voice was high-pitched, as though she prepared for the worst.
“Hi, Mom. Did you meet her? How is everything?”
Janine sat at the edge of her bed and blinked out toward the ocean. “Everything is good and yes, honey, I did.”
“And? What’s she like now?”
Janine hardly had the words due to her own confusion. “I don’t know. It’s like she walked out of a Martha Stewart catalog. She kind of looks like my mother talks like my mother, but she also looks like a very rich Martha’s Vineyard housewife and acts like one too.”
“Huh. Well. She did marry that guy.”
“But can a single marriage change your entire personality?”
“I don’t know.” Maggie sounded doubtful. “You don’t sound happy.”
“I think I’m just really confused,” Janine answered. “Maybe I made a mistake, coming here. Nancy and I haven’t gotten along in decades. There’s so much pain between us. I’m not sure how we can overcome it. And I’m dealing with my own issues right now.”
Maggie held the silence for a long time. Finally, she exhaled and said, “Mom, imagine if you and I had a rift between us. You would do anything to fix it. Maybe that’s what Nancy is doing now. I know I would do anything in my power to heal my relationship with my daughter if I had one. You have to give her a chance, Mom. I’m sure she loves you so much and regrets the past. Plus, this will keep your mind off, Dad. You need to focus on you right now.”
Janine’s heart lifted. “Maggie, don’t be silly. We would never have a rift between us. And when did you become so wise?”
Maggie breathed in the other end of the phone as a sign of resignation.
“All right, honey. Everything you’ve said makes so much sense. I’m just going to take it one day at a time. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
“I love you, Mom,” Maggie said. “Oh, and Mom?”
“Yes.”
“You’re the strongest woman I know. Never forget that. You got this.”
Chapter Ten
Janine had insomnia quite frequently. This was a very common ailment in New York City with the stress and the traffic and the constant feeling of existential dread, which people seemed to wear along with their designer jewelry. Janine had a prescription for sleeping pills, but Jack had told her he didn’t like the way they made her so groggy in the mornings, and they’d caused her to sleepw
alk a few times and whisper in her sleep. Of course, he’d always had his back-up bedroom to leave her alone in her anxious thoughts, going in and out of slumber.
At around five-thirty in the morning, as the soft light of the morning streamed through the window, Janine gave up on getting back to dreamland. She placed her feet on the hardwood and stretched her arms over her head. Her eyes flirted with her cell phone, there on the nightstand, and her brain itched for her to search up the various gossip sites and see if anyone had reported her abandonment of the city. Seeing Henry, the documentary filmmaker had put a jolt in her plans, as she’d wanted to be completely invisible to her old life, as though she no longer existed.
Janine had unpacked and hung all her garments in the closet. This was something she’d grown accustomed to doing, regardless of how long she planned to stay in a place, as it made her feel more grounded. She’d considered the fact that maybe since she and her mother had had to move around so much when she’d been a kid, this unpacking was a direct assault against her memories. It was a way to say, No, I will stay around, thank you very much—a way to exert control.
Janine didn’t have much in the way of “casual clothing.” She flipped through her dresses, her pant-suits before she discovered a pair of designer jeans, which she tugged up over her hips. She then added a sweater, which had been knitted in Belgium, and glanced at herself in the mirror. Her face was barren of makeup, and big craters swirled beneath her eyes. If her New York friends saw her like this, they might use the words “having a nervous breakdown” to describe her.
Downstairs, Janine found that a coffee pot had been brewed, but nobody sat in any traditional coffee-drinking locations to sip it. She poured herself a mug and stepped out onto the porch. The sea breeze fluttered through her hair and cooled her cheeks, and she closed her eyes somberly and listened to the gentle rush of the waves. She was reminded of all the artists of the 19th century, who’d been sent to “the seaside” to mend their health. Maybe this was meant for her.
When she finished her cup of coffee, Janine felt vibrant, like a renewed sense of energy swept over her. She stepped off the porch and wandered down to the sand, where she slipped out of her shoes and rolled up her jeans. The water was chilly but not frigid, and it frothed around her ankles. She continued to walk, her feet in the water, and she lost herself in the meditative nature of it all, the sea and the cawing birds and the boats, far out in the distance, as they made their somber journeys elsewhere.
Janine returned to the house around seven in the morning. The thought of indoors was ridiculous to her when the air tasted so fresh and tart, but she walked inside anyway to search for a book upstairs. When she returned to the veranda, she slid into the cushioned porch swing and dug into the words hungrily. When was the last time she’d given herself time and space to read?
But very quickly, her focus ran dry.
It wasn’t for lack of trying. Inside the house, a door slammed, and she heard Elsa’s voice. “Good morning.” The words didn’t sound welcoming; they were flat, and they seemed to build a boundary.
The response of, “Hey,” wasn’t so kind, either. Janine didn’t recognize the voice. She sat straight upright, her book still on her lap.
“Didn’t expect you so early,” Elsa said. “I’ll pour you some coffee.”
“Thanks.”
The voices carried into the kitchen, just on the other side of the nearest window to Janine. There was the sound of the coffee being poured; then, Elsa asked the other woman, “Are you still vegan? I only have cow milk.”
“Black is fine.”
“You’re making sure all your levels are okay with that vegan stuff, aren’t you? I worry you won’t get all the right nutrients,” Elsa returned.
“Millions of people are vegan, Elsa. And I told you. I only do the vegan thing a few times a week.”
“Which days?”
“Elsa, stop nagging,” the other woman said. She then cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “So, have you met her. Nancy’s daughter?”
There was silence. Janine could practically feel Elsa’s nod.
“And? How is she?” the other woman asked.
Elsa paused for a long time before she answered. “She just seems sad.”
“Huh. Well. Join the club, I guess,” the other woman remarked dryly.
“Carmella, come on.”
Ah. So this woman was Carmella, Elsa’s sister and Nancy’s second step-daughter. The one who hadn’t shown up the previous night and the one Nancy had alluded was a bit emotional, a bit different.
“What do you mean, come on? Every time I walk in this house, I feel like I’m walking into a funeral home,” Carmella returned.
“Nancy and I are helping each other get through,” Elsa said tentatively.
“And how much longer will it take for you to get through?” Carmella asked. “I need to get my acupuncture practice up and running again. I’m going crazy.”
“We need to hire a new overall wellness specialist,” Elsa returned. “You know that.”
“And you haven’t interviewed a single person for the job,” Carmella pointed out. “And meanwhile, the lodge is just empty. What do you think Dad would think of that?”
“Like you honestly care what Dad would think,” Elsa bristled.
Again, silence. Janine had never had a sister, although she did remember the few spats she’d had with Maxine (non-blood related, yet ever a sister, until recently). It had always seemed like, because they’d known one another so well, they’d known precisely what to say to dig the knife in.
“Come on, Elsa. You don’t have the trademark for being sad about Dad’s death,” Carmella returned icily.
“My husband died too, you know.”
This time, Carmella didn’t respond. Janine’s eyes grew watery as she realized she’d forgotten to blink.
Finally, Elsa spoke again. “I swear, Carmella. Your lack of empathy is really astounding, sometimes. It feels like Karen never really left.”
Carmella cackled at that. “You love bringing that up, don’t you?”
It was strange to witness this from the other side of the window. Janine felt as though she was at the top of a mountain, peering down at a vast valley of family drama. It was never easy to comprehend the weight of other people’s stories.
There was a soft sob. It sounded like it came from Elsa, although Janine couldn’t be sure.
“Off to a great start today, aren’t we, Carmella?” Elsa breathed, between cries.
Carmella grumbled. Clearly, she wasn’t the kind of woman to cry. After a long pause, she said, “Here. Mop yourself up.”
Janine could imagine her bringing a packet of Kleenex from her purse. She could imagine Elsa taking one. Then, there was the soft blowing of her nose.
Finally, Carmella heaved a sigh. “If you don’t want to start back up the Lodge for now, then fine. I have a number of acupuncture clients who need appointments; therefore, I’ll use my space. Otherwise, they might find another acupuncturist.” She paused again. “You don’t want me to lose my clients, do you?”
“Of course not,” Elsa whispered.
“Fine. Okay. Pass this news along to Nancy, will you?”
“Okay.”
Then, there was the sound of Carmella’s heels making a clacking sound as she walked out of the kitchen and back toward the front door. Janine shivered and then busied herself with a heavy prayer in the hopes that Elsa wouldn’t pick this moment to head out onto the veranda and discover her. Thankfully, she didn’t.
Who was Karen? Why didn’t Carmella seem to care as much about the death of their father as Elsa? What was this strange rift between sisters?
Suddenly, something caught Janine’s attention, and she whipped around to find a horse, moving slowly toward her, down the beach. Atop the black beauty was her mother, Nancy, wearing a riding cap and a beautiful burgundy riding cape. Janine had never seen her mother on horseback before. Slowly, she stood and lifted her hand in greeting.
Her mother turned the horse evenly toward her, and her grin widened as she approached.
Janine felt like a huge sap as her mother approached. She was strangely reminded of being a little kid, maybe four or five, and spotting her mother as she entered preschool to pick her up for the day. It had been the best moment of the day, every single day, during a very, very finite portion of Janine’s life.
Nancy slid off the horse with ease and wrapped the reins around her fingers as she approached the porch.
“Look at you,” Janine said as she placed her hands on the porch railing.
“I like to get a ride in early in the morning,” Nancy told her.
Again, there was this bubble of awkwardness between them, as though they would never find ways to tell each other exactly what lurked on their minds.
“Jack and I used to ride in California,” Janine said suddenly as the memory passed through her. “Jack was really seasoned, and he showed me some techniques.”
“Maybe we can go together sometime,” Nancy offered. “We have four horses. It was one of Neal’s passions.”
“These men in our lives and their love of horses,” Janine said, her voice breaking.
Beneath the surface, there was the memory of a time when Janine and Nancy hadn’t seen the likes of a horse in years when the idea of riding a horse would have been preposterous. Beyond that, neither Jack nor Neal was in their lives at the moment. It was just them.
“I’ll take him back to the stables,” Nancy said after a pause. “Then maybe some breakfast and a surprise.”
“A surprise?” Janine arched her eyebrow.
Nancy nodded. “I like to do that, now. Surprise people.”
When Nancy disappeared, Janine returned to the kitchen, which was now void of Elsa and Carmella. She brewed another pot of coffee as her thoughts raced. Fear laced through her as she realized that she would maybe have to spend the next few hours with Nancy and Nancy alone. The previous day, Elsa had been a buffer.
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