“How was your trip?”
As they talked, Meg could just see him, probably on the back deck of the little ranch house he rented in Sudbury, his long legs stretched out as he lazed on a lounge chair. He told her he was looking at the stars, enjoying an early June night that was as mild as deep summer.
His blond hair would gleam in the starlight.
“How are you getting on with Drusilla and Anastasia?” Liam knew enough about Meg’s life to use the Disney names for her step- and half sister.
“So far, so good,” she told him. “We’re all tiptoeing around on hot coals, trying to be pleasant and not offend each other. They’re at a party now—”
“And you’re not?”
Meg tried to sound offhand, even witty. “Didn’t get asked to go along.”
“What little witches.”
Liam’s indignation on Meg’s behalf made her laugh. “It’s not
like that. I think it’s a business kind of thing for Arden, although we haven’t had a chance to talk seriously.”
“Want me to come down and give them a piece of my mind?” Liam suggested hopefully.
“Save it. But I do want you to come sometime to enjoy the island,” Meg answered gently. “Just not quite yet.”
“I miss you,” Liam told her.
Meg took a deep breath. Aiming for the voice of a sexless Girl Scout leader, she replied flippantly, “I haven’t even been gone for one day.” Before he could disarm her with any more sweetness, she rushed on, “You know I’m determined to dig into this book.”
“Good for you.” Liam hesitated. “Okay, then, well, if you ever need me …”
“I want you to come visit, and soon,” Meg promised. “I need to get settled and accomplish some work first.”
But after she said good-bye to Liam, Meg went to her desk. Rather than reading, she observed the night sky and pondered life’s mysteries. Louisa May Alcott had financially supported her philosophical but impractical father and the rest of the family. She’d worked incessantly, scribbling away by hand, not only her
Little Women
books but, under a pseudonym, a series of wild thrillers starring dangerous hypnotic villains. She never had a suitor of her own, never married.
Gales of laughter interrupted her thoughts. Arden and Jenny were home.
For a fraction of a moment, Meg considered keeping her dignity and staying in her room, but instead she went out into the hall and leaned over the railing, looking down at the two women bent over with laughter. “You must have had a good time.”
“We got stopped by a policeman on—on—on—” Jenny sputtered.
“On
what
?” Meg demanded, so curious she hurried down the stairs.
“A
bicycle
!” Arden burst out. “He was ten years old!”
Meg arched an eyebrow. “You were arrested by a ten-year-old policeman on a bike?”
Jenny leaned against the wall in the front hall, pulling off her sparkling sandals. “It’s a new arrangement here in the summer, bike cops to help with all the traffic violations.”
Arden added, “He wasn’t really ten, he just looked it.” She wandered into the kitchen. “I’ve got to drink some water.”
“God, me, too.” Jenny followed.
“Are you drunk?” Meg demanded, entering the kitchen.
“Jeez, Meg, don’t be such a prig,” Jenny carped.
“We’re not drunk,” Arden informed Meg in a nicer tone of voice. “We hardly drank at all.”
“Then why did you get arrested?”
“We didn’t say
arrested
,” Jenny corrected her. “We got stopped. I didn’t have my lights on.”
“So you
were
drunk!” Meg argued.
“No,” Jenny said with patience. “It was just turning dark. This nature thing called twilight? It stays light here late in the summer. We’d only gone one block when the child in black biker shorts and yellow shirt with
POLICE
on it stopped us. He just reminded me to turn on my headlights. We were very law abiding and respectful, okay?”
“But then,” Arden added, “we had to watch him pedal away over the cobblestones. It’s extremely hard to appear dignified and tough when your butt’s bouncing on a bike.”
“So did you make some contacts?” Meg asked Arden.
Arden waggled her eyebrows. “I’ll say.”
“Arden, I’m warning you, don’t trust that guy,” Jenny reminded her.
“
What
guy?” Meg demanded.
Arden smiled smugly. “His name is Tim Robinson,” she told Meg. “He’s a computer techie and a dreamboat.”
“He’s an idiot,” Jenny snorted.
“I’ve got a date with him next Saturday,” Arden told Meg. “Wait till you check him out.”
“You’d be much better off going out with Palmer White,” Jenny told Arden. “I thought you went to the party to make contacts, not to hit on good-looking morons.”
In a flash, Arden flicked from lighthearted to cranky. “Well, you know what, Jenny? If I’d been able to spend some time here every summer when I was a teenager instead of your mother imposing The Exile, I could have had my fill of good-looking morons. But I missed out then and I’m all in now.”
“Arden, stop it,” Jenny said, her voice soft. “It’s not my fault my mother kicked you two out. That’s unfair.”
“I don’t think so,” Arden responded. She stormed out of the room and up the stairs. Her bedroom door slammed.
“We have got to talk about this,” Jenny said. “Or it will fester.”
“I know,” Meg agreed. She sat down at the table, thinking Jenny would join her.
“We have to do it with the three of us together,” Jenny said. “Maybe tomorrow.” She left the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “Turn off the lights when you’re done, okay?”
After a moment, Meg turned off the lights and went upstairs to her room.
The next morning, Jenny returned from her early-morning run to find Arden and Meg sitting at the kitchen table.
“Hey!” Jenny let the screen door slam and stood panting away
with a big smile on her face. Running shot good endorphins through her. “What are you two doing here on this excellent day, still in your PJ’s?”
Arden gave Jenny a sullen glare. “Jenny. It. Is. Eight. O’clock.”
Meg added, “On a Saturday morning. But you know, I guess that since Arden and I have been working our butts off for the past few months to pay the rent instead of lounging around in our father’s house working whenever we feel like it, Arden and I deserve a little Saturday laziness.”
“You guys.” Jenny threw herself into a kitchen chair, folded her arms on the table, and scowled, her happy mood vanished. “Give me a break here. The past is over and done. We all want a slice of the sale of this house. The only way we’re going to get it is to do what our father stipulated. We’ve got to be here for three months, together. No way out. Why can’t we three act like civilized adults and behave with a little courtesy toward each other?”
“Easy for you to say,” Arden grumbled. “You are the winner and still champion of our father’s affections, even though you aren’t even his blood.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” Jenny replied.
Her voice quiet but firm, Meg asked, “Do you expect us to forget that you got us kicked out of this house?”
Jenny shook her head in frustration. “But
I
didn’t. It was my mother who made you two leave because one of you stole her emerald necklace.”
Arden shoved back her chair and stood up, all one hundred ten pounds quivering. “I did
not
steal your mother’s damned necklace!”
Meg shook her head stubbornly. “I didn’t, either.”
Jenny shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Her endorphins were fading, but she still felt the results of a great run on a sunny
day by the ocean. “Let’s start again, please. Let’s agree that none of us stole it, okay? Let’s forget about that.”
“Forget about it?” Meg’s fighting spirit rose. “That would be fine with you, wouldn’t it, Jenny? You got to spend every summer of your life here in this fabulous house on an island with golden beaches and gorgeous boys, while Arden and I were in exile. You’ve been living rent-free in Dad’s house for at least the past ten years, while Arden and I have had to work to pay our rent. And you would like us to forget about it? I don’t think so.”
“What do you expect me to do?” Jenny demanded. “Turn back time?”
Arden and Meg were silent, arms folded over their chests. Arden wore pink silk boxer short pajamas that brought out the red accents in her auburn hair. Meg was wrapped in a cotton robe like Joseph’s Technicolor coat and her glorious strawberry-blonde hair was loose.
“You guys are stunning,” Jenny observed quietly. “You both have Dad’s red hair.”
Arden rolled her eyes.
Through the screen door came the trill of a bird. Impulsively, Meg shifted in her chair. “I want to walk on the beach.”
“Wait,” Arden told her. “Jenny’s right. Let’s finish this first. We can’t turn back the clock. We have to live here for three months. We don’t need the atmosphere to be toxic.”
“True.” Encouraged by Arden’s words, Jenny proposed, “I think we should make a list of rules.”
“Oh, Jenny, grow up. We’re adults. Let’s just agree to be civil to each other, as if we’re, oh, I don’t know, three strangers renting the house for the summer. We can be helpful, we can even have fun, we can let go of the past.”
“For three months,” Meg specified.
“For three months,” Arden agreed. She looked at Jenny. “And I don’t want to hear anything about Tim Robinson, okay?”
Jenny bit back a few choice words. “Okay.”
Meg shifted in her chair, rewrapping her colorful robe around her. “I was just thinking. You know what? None of the three of us has been married yet, and we’re all in our thirties.”
“Well, duh, Meg,” Arden snorted. “Why do you guess that is?”
“I know.” Jenny jumped in before the others could say it. “You were both too busy working to meet men. So it’s my fault.” She sat back in her chair, satisfied.
Arden squinted at Jenny. “Actually, for me, it’s true. I’ve been too busy working to settle down!”
Meg asked, “But what about you, Jenny?”
“I was kind of with a guy for the past two years.” She gave the thought a moment’s regret, then shrugged. “But, you know, I’ve been working, too. Maybe Dad paid my college tuition, but I had my nose to the grindstone making those grades. Understanding computer code and algorithms isn’t that easy, either—”
“Enough.” Arden put her hands to her head. “You’re hurting my brain. Fine, we believe you. You’ve worked hard.”
“Who was the guy you were with for two years?” Meg asked.
Jenny paused. “Bjorn,” she said.
“Bjorn?” Meg echoed.
“He’s Swedish. Once you see him, you’ll know why I went with him for two years. He’s like California Ken except he lived here. He’s crazy about Nantucket. Crazy about swimming, surfing when he can. He worked as a bartender at High Winds. Everyone knows him. He’s a truly sweet guy.”
“Why did you break up?” Meg asked.
Jenny pulled her shoulders up to her ears. “The truth? Bjorn’s
adorable, like a yellow lab puppy. But he’s … maybe not the brightest guy in the world.”
“Well, not everyone can talk about algorithms,” Arden pointed out.
“I realize that. We’re just on different planes, we have fun doing different things—listen, why doesn’t one of you go out with him and you’ll see what I mean.”
Arden grinned. “You take him, Meg. I’ve got Tim Robinson.”
Jenny snorted.
Meg said, “I can arrange my own love life, thank you very much. And Bjorn doesn’t sound like my type, anyway.” She stood up, gathering her flashy wrapper around her. “You two might not be aware that I’m working on an important—no, a
significant
book.” Meg coiled her finger in a long fiery red curl, and her blue-green eyes grew luminous. “Do you know that Louisa May Alcott paid for May’s art lessons, made her gowns, took May with her to Europe to study art, and when May’s painting was accepted by the Paris Salon, May wrote in her journal …” Meg paused before quoting the passage verbatim: “ ‘Who would have imagined such good fortune and so strong proof that Lu does not monopolize the Alcott talent. Ha! Ha! Sister, this is the first feather plucked from your cap!’ ”
The kitchen was quiet.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jenny said at last, gawking at her sister like she was a nutcase. “I’ve got work to do, too.” She left the room and jogged upstairs.
Monday morning, Arden pulled on white capris, a black tee, and black sandals. She slung a straw bag over her shoulder and set out to renew her acquaintance with the town.
The big brick edifice of the Jared Coffin House rose on the corner of Centre and Broad Streets, a touchstone for Arden. From here she could turn left and stroll past Bookworks, the Brotherhood—yum, cheeseburgers!—and down to the Whaling Museum, or turn right and walk down Centre Street, past all sorts of glorious boutiques. She turned right. She window-shopped, thinking about what she needed to buy for a casual summer.
Main Street was charming, as always, with brick sidewalks edging the cobblestone street and more stores filled with enticing goods. She walked down to the water, today rippled by a light wind, back up to Easy Street, and over to the library. She renewed her library card, checked out a mystery, then returned to the fresh air and sunshine.
She needed sunblock. She needed a new swimsuit. She needed a sun hat.
Two hours later, happily lugging several bags from various shops, she collapsed, exhausted, at a table at the Boarding House’s patio. After ordering a salad, she leaned back in her chair and surrendered to the pleasure of people watching.
How soon would she be able to gracefully contact Genevieve Beaudreau about the possibility of appearing on
Simplify This
? Even though Palmer White had warned her that Genevieve wouldn’t ever want any advice about her summer house, the kitchen could definitely use an update. She took her notebook out of her bag and jotted down some ideas.
“May I join you?”
Arden looked up. Palmer White stood by her table, tall, confident, splendidly dressed in white ducks and a blue polo shirt.
She hesitated. She needed to get to know people on this island, and he probably knew a lot of people she’d like to meet.
“All right,” she answered indifferently.