“Not in every way,” Ava says. There are things she misses about Nathaniel—like the way he whistles Mozart when he sands wood, and his clear green eyes, and his irreverent sense of humor. Ava’s relationship with Scott is solid and good and proper. They talk about school; they volunteer together; every day it feels like they’re building something that’s going to last. Ava feels safe with Scott. With Nathaniel, it always felt like she was dangling by her ankles outside a ten-story window. Did Nathaniel love her, did he not love her? The not-knowing, the never-being-sure was agony. It made Ava jealous and needy. It turned her into a person even she didn’t like to hang out with.
“I want you to give me another chance,” Nathaniel says. “I know you think people don’t change…”
“People don’t change,” Ava says. “We are who we are, and then we keep becoming more and more ourselves.”
“I know you think that,” Nathaniel says. “I do listen when you talk. But I’m telling you, these last nine months on the Vineyard changed me. Or, okay, let’s say they didn’t change me—but I figured some shit out. And the number one thing I realized is that I want to be with you.” He reached over and gently removed Ava’s mitten until he was holding her small, cold hand. “I want to marry you, Ava.”
Tears drop down her cheeks. She can’t believe this is happening. And then, before she can figure out what to say, her phone starts to buzz. Scott: of course it’s Scott, calling from the hospital. She should answer, but she absolutely cannot talk to Scott while she’s sitting in Nathaniel’s truck at the end of Hinckley Lane. She lets the call go.
She reclaims her hand and puts her mitten back on. These mittens were hand-knit for her by Mildred, one of the residents at Our Island Home. The best thing about the past year has been the joy she’s found in playing for the elders, listening to them sing Bobby Darin and Cole Porter—and all the Rodgers and Hammerstein show tunes. Mildred’s favorite is “Whatever Lola Wants,” from Damn Yankees; she requests it every week. Ava loves that she and Scott volunteer together. Scott is vocal about his devotion. Ava never has to wonder.
She isn’t going to trade that in. There are things about Nathaniel that she misses… okay, let’s be painfully honest, there is some essential part of Nathaniel that she will always be hopelessly in love with.
“I’m confused,” she admits. “I need you to take me home.”
He nods, then turns the key and starts the engine. She’s surprised that he’s giving up so easily. She thought he might try to kiss her. She wants him to try to kiss her, she realizes—and how awful is that?
She wonders briefly if Roxanne is okay. She meant to listen for the sound of the Med Flight chopper, but being with Nathaniel distracted her. She doesn’t think Scott left a message, which is unusual. She wonders if maybe he’s angry with her. She worries that he somehow knows she’s with Nathaniel right now. Is that possible? If he does know she’s with Nathaniel, he will not be happy, but Ava will tell him Nathaniel needed some closure—and Scott will be understanding.
He is that good of a guy.
Nathaniel pulls up to the back of the Winter Street Inn and puts the truck in park. “I’d like to see you tomorrow night,” he says.
“I’m busy tomorrow night,” she says. “Black-tie thingy at the Whaling Museum.”
“You’re going with Scott?” he asks.
She nods.
He stares out the windshield at the lit window of Bart’s bedroom. The door to Bart’s bedroom is always kept open and the light always on—Kelley insists on this, as some kind of symbol—and there have been plenty of times when Ava has gone in and sat on Bart’s bed and tried to feel from the energy in the room whether Bart is alive or dead. She always gets the sense that he is alive—but this might just be wishful thinking. She wants to share this with Nathaniel, except it would open a whole other can of worms.
He says, “I’d really like to kiss you good night. Can I kiss you good night?”
Every atom of her body is saying yes, and she even leans toward him a little, but then she thinks of Scott—who is, no doubt, still wearing the poufy tulle light-up Christmas tree sweater that he bought solely to please her.
“I have to go,” she says, and she hops out of the truck, then hurries through the back door into the house.
She has never felt so torn in all her life. She needs to talk to her mother.
MARGARET
Many years earlier, at a CBS network retreat held at a farm in Millbrook, New York—back when Margaret had time for things like team-building and brainstorming—the facilitator asked everyone to pick two words to describe themselves.
Margaret chose unflappable and busy.
Busy certainly still applies.
Unflappable, not so much. And especially not tonight when she walks into the Winter Street Inn with one goal on her mind—to hold her precious granddaughter—and finds Drake and Mitzi together on the leather sofa.
Exactly how together, she can’t quite tell.
She thinks: Drake? He told her he couldn’t make it up this weekend. He had surgery scheduled and a mountain of paperwork. He was going to let paperwork trump the christening of Margaret’s granddaughter. Drake has no children, essentially has no understanding of family, his father died in front of him at a Yankees game, heart attack. A man in the crowd, a doctor, performed CPR for half an hour trying to save him. Drake decided then and there he wanted to go into medicine. But he has no sense of family. How would Drake know how much it meant to Margaret to have him there? He’s not in love with her. Love is too messy for Dr. Drake Carroll.
And yet—here he is. On the sofa with Mitzi. Margaret realizes that Mitzi must be on Nantucket for the baptism. Did Kelley invite her? No, he looks almost as surprised as Margaret to find Drake and Mitzi sitting together on the sofa in front of the fire.
Margaret shuts the front door, trying to summon the consummate professional who has broadcast the results of six presidential elections. If she can handle announcing the name of the future leader of the free world, then she can handle this.
“What exactly is going on here?” she asks. She sounds like a schoolmarm.
Drake is at a loss for words and Mitzi starts bawling.
Kelley says, “Mitzi, what are you doing here? I thought we agreed…”
“I know!” she says. “I couldn’t help myself. I just miss him so much.”
Margaret softens. Poor Mitzi. If Patrick or Kevin had been taken prisoner in Afghanistan, how would Margaret function? Would she be able to face the nation every night and deliver the news? Certainly not. She’d take a leave of absence. She would, like Mitzi, be a basket case.
Drake holds his perfect surgeon’s hands in the air in a gesture of innocence. He looks at Margaret beseechingly. Drake is here. He put whatever was on his plate aside to show up to surprise me. She softens further.
Kelley says, “Mitzi, can I see you in the dining room, please?”
Mitzi stands. “Thank you again,” she says to Drake.
“My pleasure,” Drake says.
Mitzi follows Kelley into the dining room—where, apparently, the lashings are to be administered.
Drake collects Margaret in his arms. He whispers in her ear, “I didn’t know who that was. I was working, and she walked right in, plopped down next to me on the sofa, and started crying.”
“It’s okay,” Margaret says. “I understand. She’s like that.”
Drake then lays a kiss on Margaret that makes her wobble in her heels. Wow, the man can kiss! He slices through to the center of her with… well, with surgical precision.
She’s in the middle of some kind of ecstasy when she hears Kevin’s voice. “Hey, Mom!”
She and Drake separate—reluctantly.
“Darling,” she says. She kisses her son on the cheek; it’s been a few days since he’s shaved. “How is everything going?” Isabelle appears behind him. She looks exhausted.
“Margaret,” she says, and they kiss on both cheeks. “Can I bring you some gougères?”
Drake says, “I’m taking Margaret to dinner at 56 Union.”