Jennifer smiles—she does have a file at home filled with creative playroom ideas—and at the same time, she’s trying to calculate: thirty-five thousand times twelve. It’s four hundred twenty grand, which is nearly what she lost by giving up Grayson Coker. Plus endorsements. Plus business rolling in, more business than she can handle.
But she has to tell the world she was addicted to pills. The struggle is real, she imagines herself saying into the camera. And it is constant. Could she bring herself to be that honest?
“I need to think about it,” Jennifer says.
“We have some time,” Danko says. “Can you give us an answer before Thanksgiving?”
“Yes,” Jennifer says. “I’ll let you know by the Friday before Thanksgiving. The seventeenth.”
They all stand up, and Norah gives Jennifer a sisterly squeeze. “Just so you know, I don’t get a finder’s fee or anything. When Danko told me about this project, I automatically thought of you. You would be so great on TV.”
“Real-life rehab,” Jennifer says wryly. “That’s me.”
She shakes hands with Danko, who gives her an encouraging smile. “You’d be perfect,” he says. He holds up his hands. “But no pressure. Stay in touch.”
“I will,” Jennifer says as he and Norah walk away.
She sits back down on the bench for a second and picks up her cup of coffee, which she has all but ignored. It’s then that she sees the blond woman with the baby carriage across the street staring her down.
It takes Jennifer a second to realize who the woman is, and another second for her to register the appropriate amount of horror. It’s Isabelle, out for a walk with the baby. Isabelle must have seen Jennifer talking to Norah Vale. Isabelle must have seen Jennifer hugging Norah Vale.
This is bad. For so many reasons.
“Isabelle!” Jennifer calls out. “Isabelle!” She waves at her sister-in-law, but Isabelle pretends not to notice. She turns the carriage around and walks away.
EDDIE
He tries not to let his hopes deflate when he sees the Christys step off the ferry. Masha—for Eddie can think of Marcia Christy only as Masha—told Eddie to look for a woman with yellow hair and a purple coat. Eddie assumed he would be looking for a blond. But in fact, the very first person off the boat is a woman in a puffy purple parka, and she has yellow hair. Yellow, the color of marshmallow Peeps.
“Masha?” Eddie says.
She immediately envelops Eddie in a puffy purple hug. She’s wearing a sharp-smelling perfume, reminiscent of the cheap drugstore brands Eddie’s sister, Barbie, used to wear in high school.
Eddie will not judge Masha. Masha has won Powerball. Masha has more money than 90 percent of the folks who come to Nantucket looking to buy.
“Eddie,” Masha says. “Please meet my husband, Raja.”
“Nice to meet you, Raja,” Eddie says, extending a hand. He doesn’t bother correcting his pronunciation, and neither Masha nor Raja seems to mind or notice. Raja is magnificently ordinary—white, pudgy, balding, bespectacled. He’s wearing a plaid shirt, flat-front Dockers, a red Windbreaker, some comfortable-looking loafers—Hush Puppies, maybe.
Raja’s handshake is a baggie of warm pudding. No surprises there.
“Welcome to Nantucket, both of you,” Eddie says. “My car is parked in the lot. We have six properties to look at, so we’d better get cracking.”
Masha lets out a whoop. “I like you already, Eddie. Ha! I’m a poet and I didn’t know it.”
“Right this way,” Eddie says.
Masha is a talker. Between the parking lot and the top of Main Street, Eddie learns the following: Masha is a hairdresser, grew up in Lynn, Massachusetts, and attended Empire Beauty School in Malden. Raja is also from Lynn. Both Masha and Raja attended Lynn Classical, but Raja was three years ahead, plus he was one of the smarties in the chess club, and Masha—as you can probably guess, Eddie—was a cheerleader who hung out with the real popular kids. Raja is an engineer with National Grid, and for fun he plays chess online. They have a West Highland terrier named Jack, who is “basically our child,” Masha says. Jack went with Masha to buy the Powerball ticket from Lanzilli’s, and three of the numbers Masha picked were the components of Jack’s birthday. So Jack is really the person responsible for the Christys’ good fortune, Masha says.
“Jack isn’t a person.” Raja speaks up from the back.
Masha swats Eddie’s arm. “That’s an engineer for you,” she says. “Hung up on details.”
Eddie laughs, then hopes that Raja doesn’t think Eddie is laughing at his expense.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Masha says. “I never shut up. It’s true. I’m a chatty Kathy. Raja is a man of few words, so I talk for both of us.”
Eddie can hold his own with pretty much anyone, but after being in the car with Masha for five minutes, he needs a break. He pulls onto Winter Street.
“I just have to make a quick stop,” Eddie says. “Drop off a listing sheet for some other clients who are putting their house on the market. Won’t take a minute.” He double-parks in front of the inn and slowly approaches the front door, savoring the moment of quiet. Eddie uses the knocker, and a few seconds later Bart Quinn opens the door. He’s holding a large bouquet of flowers.
“Hi?” Bart says.
“Bart, hi. Eddie Pancik,” Eddie says. He holds out the plain white envelope that contains the listing sheet. “Would you give this to your mother, please? Only your mother. It’s something she specifically requested.”
Bart takes the envelope, but he seems to be studying Eddie. “Eddie Pancik? You’re Allegra’s father, right?”
“Guilty as charged,” Eddie says.
“Is she at work right now?” Bart asks.
“As far as I know,” Eddie says.
“Great,” Bart says. “These flowers are for her, actually. I’m going to surprise her.”
“Well!” Eddie says. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled. And you’ll give that envelope to your mom? Put it in her hands?”
“You bet,” Bart says. “Thanks for stopping by, Mr. Pancik.”
Eddie heads back to the car, buoyed by the interaction. Bart Quinn is a polite young man, a war hero, and thoughtful! What woman doesn’t want to get flowers? Eddie should bring Grace flowers tonight, for no reason other than that he loves and appreciates her. If it goes well with the Christys, he’ll get the flowers; otherwise, he can’t really justify the expense.
Eddie hasn’t mentioned anything to Grace about seeing Benton Coe. He has given it thought and has decided it’s best if Grace doesn’t know that Eddie knows that Benton has returned. He’s going to watch for changes in Grace’s behavior; you’d better bet he’s going to watch!
When he climbs back into the car, Masha is holding the second copy of the Winter Street Inn listing sheet.
“I want it,” Masha says.
“Excuse me?” Eddie says.
“This inn, it’s for sale, right? And I want to buy it. I’ve always wanted to run an inn. Haven’t I always wanted to run an inn, Raja?”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Raja says.
“Probably because you tune out ninety percent of what I say.” Masha turns to Eddie. “If I’m not talking about dinner, he doesn’t hear me.”
“You’ve never once said you wanted to run an inn,” Raja says.
“Maybe I never said it because I never thought it was possible,” Masha says. “But now, with the money, anything is possible.” She swats Eddie’s arm again. “For us, a couple of kids from Lynn.”
Eddie says, “Running an inn is a lot of work. More than you probably realize.”
“I’m no stranger to hard work,” Masha says. “And I like meeting new people.”
“Well, we have some other exciting properties for you to look at,” Eddie says.
“I want the inn,” Masha says.
“Honey,” Raja says.
“Can’t we look at the inn?” Masha says. “You said it’s on the market.”