“Allegedly.” Evan smirks. “How so?”
“He sneezed or farted near the property or something,” Bess says with another sigh. “Anyway, I’m not here to quibble over the details and I fully recognize the ridiculousness of the situation. But your dad is very obstinate and peevish…”
“He’s peevish?”
“Yes. Very much so. Hear me out. Cissy and Chappy, they have their little repartee, their back-and-forth.”
“That they do.…”
“Their saucy insults and middle fingers.” Bess lifts one, as if to demonstrate.
“Bess Codman, you’re cute as ever.”
“But it’s a dance,” she says, ignoring Evan and speaking as fast as her mouth will carry her. “And the more he antagonizes her, the more she digs in. I’m trying to compel Cissy to leave Cliff House. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s about to fall into the ocean.”
“All of Nantucket has noticed. I heard Vanity Fair is writing an article about it.”
“Fantastic. And my grandmother weeps from the heavens,” Bess says. “Anyway, here’s the problem. I want Cis to leave but the more your father keeps sticking in her craw, the more she’s going to stick around here.”
“Cissy has a lot of craws.”
“Yes, she’s a real craw machine. Swear to God, Evan, if your dad was simply nice to her, if he treated her with a crumb of kindness or respect, she’d get bored and leave. Isn’t that what everyone wants? Cissy would be out of Chappy’s hair and I wouldn’t need to organize a funeral. As much as Cissy torments your dad, he doesn’t want her dead. I don’t think so anyway.”
“No,” Evan says. “He would not want that at all.”
“Can you just convince him to, I don’t know, step away from the fight? At least until I get her out of the house? Please?”
“All right, Bess,” Evan says, eyes softening, the playful spark falling right out of them. “I don’t know that he’ll take advice from me but I can sure as hell try.”
“Thank you.” She exhales. “That’s all I ask.”
As they stand stiff and silent, Bess notices the reflection of her sweatpants in the oven door. A sudden wave of dizziness overtakes her. What must she look like? Evan saw her in that very kitchen, in those very pants, a thousand years ago, back when Bess had the youth to make it seem like a casual outfit choice instead of the very definition of “giving up.”
“So, I’d better—”
“It’s been awhile, Bess,” Evan says, his voice like velvet. “How long?”
“Four years,” she answers with a sharp nod, as if confirming to herself.
“Since your wedding, then? Am I right?”
Bess nods again but won’t catch his eyes.
“Four years,” Evan says. “That’s quite awhile. Guess you didn’t miss this place.”
“Are you kidding?” She looks up. “I’ve missed it with every speck of my being. Sconset is a dream. The ocean. The sand. The wild roses and honeysuckle and bayberries on the dunes. There’s nowhere like it in the world.”
“Wow,” Evan says with a dry laugh. “They say Sconset is a place folks get sentimental about but I didn’t think that’d apply to Dr. Bess Codman.”
“Don’t even start with the ‘doctor’ stuff.”
“I have to say, you weren’t so enamored with the lilacs and bayberries when Cissy dragged you back here to finish up high school with all of us barbaric islanders.”
“Yes, poor me.” Bess rolls her eyes. “Don’t let my teenage surliness fool you. It’s what I wanted.”
“Uh, I thought it wasn’t your choice? If I recall, you were kicked out of boarding school.”
“Was I?” she says with a jokey shrug. “I don’t quite remember it that way. Well, it’s been real, but I’ll let you go.”
Bess pushes off from the counter, as if she needs the extra momentum to get out of that house.
“Thanks, Evan,” she says. “For not being a total jerk about this. Okay. See you later.”
She turns to go.
“We had fun, didn’t we?” Evan calls from where he stands, fixed against the cupboards.
Bess pauses and then peers over her shoulder.
“We did,” she says. “On the other hand, Nantucket can screw with your memories.”
“Listen, do you have anywhere to be?”
“Me?” Bess spins back around to face him. “Right now? This morning?”
“This very minute.”
“Aside from dragging my mother from her home? The answer is no, I have exactly nowhere else to be.”
Well, she has somewhere to be, but it would involve a flight to California.
“Wanna come to my jobsite?” He tilts his head toward the door. “I have a construction gig down the way.”
“You want me to visit your work?” Bess scrunches her forehead. “Doesn’t that seem a little…?”
“Calm down, Danielle Steele. I’m not going to put the moves on you. I may be dense about a lot of things, but I never make the same mistake twice.”
“Gosh thanks,” Bess mumbles. “You’ve made me positively weak-kneed.”
“Do you want to go or not? I think it’s a place you’d like to see.”
“Sure. Like I said, I don’t have anything else to do, other than stare off a cliff and reflect on my own mortality.”
“Perfect.” Evan claps a hand on her shoulder. “Trust me, you’ll get a kick out of this. And it should stir up a few memories.”
“Oh Lord. Memories. Well, make sure they’re only the good ones. The bad ones I plan to leave out on the bluff.”
13
Monday Morning
They stand on a concrete slab beneath the outline of a not-quite-a-house.
“This place is supposed to ring a bell?” Bess says, and knocks on a frame. “A house so new it’s not even built yet?”
Though Bess pretends otherwise, she understands exactly where they are.
This plot of land once contained a fishing shack called Hussey House, a chunk of abandoned heaven that served as center stage for all manner of teen naughtiness. Hussey was one of Nantucket’s original founders, but whether the family ever owned the property or the name simply seemed fitting for the stuff kids got up to there, Bess never knew.
“Elisabeth Codman,” Evan says. “You don’t recognize it? Damn. That hurts. I thought I’d left at least some kind of mark on your formative years.”
Some kind of mark. That’s one way to put it.
“Fine,” Bess says, and walks to the edge of the foundation. “I remembered it on sight. How could I not? Codfish Park. You bastardized my last name as a result. Lizzy Codfish. What a gal.”
She grips the sides of a doorway and leans out over a twelve-foot retaining wall.
“Be careful,” Evan says. “You’re a couple stories off the ground. We built up the pad to keep the house out of the flood zone. Can’t screw with Mother Nature on an island outpost like this.”
“Ha! You don’t say.”
Bess pushes herself back into the home, gaze still fixed on the beach across the road. With that view, and Evan’s voice behind her, the years crash back onto her with the force of a nor’easter. Bess closes her eyes and pictures the people and the parties. She can smell the driftwood bonfires; see their flames dancing in purple and in gold. And Bess can still feel Evan, his arms wrapped around her waist.
Bess’s eyes begin to sting.