Sadie is the sister, Tabitha realizes. Sadie, not Charlotte. But what is the Upper Crust? She feels like she should know, but she’s drawing a blank. She really only cares about Franklin. She plugs 10 Grovedale Road into her phone. A blue dot appears in Maps, and she climbs into her car.
There is no traffic in the middle of the night, so Tabitha finds herself sitting in front of Franklin’s house ten minutes later. The windows are dark, but Franklin’s truck is in the driveway, and seeing his truck makes Tabitha thrum with nervous energy. He’s here. Isn’t it enough just to know where he is, finally?
No. Tabitha gets out of her car and strides up the walk. She rings the doorbell.
She hears him stirring inside, and her nerves shriek. She wants to run. The door opens.
Franklin sees her. Immediately his mouth is on hers, and he’s pulling her inside, slamming the door shut. He picks her up and carries her over to the moss-green velvet sofa, where he had been sleeping. He lays Tabitha down on the sofa, then tears her ninety-dollar T-shirt in half, cups her breast, and feeds it to himself as though it’s food and he’s starving.
Afterward, Tabitha cries. She bleats and howls—no holding back. Every bad thought, every worry, every jealousy, every insecurity comes pouring out. Franklin wipes her tears away with his hands first, then with the napkins that are next to the uneaten take-out dinner from Sharky’s on the coffee table.
“Why?” she says. “Did my sister call you and tell you to stop? Did Harper call?”
“No,” he says. “The problem is my sister. Sadie.”
Franklin’s sister, Sadie, is the wife of Dr. Reed Zimmer. Franklin’s sister, Sadie, is the woman who slapped Tabitha and threw champagne in her face. These are the extenuating circumstances.
Franklin sits on the edge of the sofa, holding his head in his hands. “I can’t work for you anymore,” he says. “And I can’t see you.”
“What?” Tabitha says.
“She’s my sister,” Franklin says. “And Harper is your sister. Your twin sister.”
“Exactly,” Tabitha says. “Harper is my sister. She’s not me. We aren’t the same, Franklin. You know this. I’m not Harper.”
“I do know that,” Franklin says. “And I like Harper, regardless of what she’s done. But my sister is a mess. She can’t handle this development. She… and my parents… my parents…”
“You’re a grown man,” Tabitha says. “Surely you don’t still cater to what your parents think?” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Tabitha pictures Eleanor. Eleanor has ruled Tabitha’s every thought and deed for the past thirty-nine years, short of the last few weeks.
“I’m sorry, Tabitha,” Franklin says. “It’s just bad luck. And I wasn’t honest. I should have explained who I was the night I met you at the Ritz. But back then, I didn’t think it would matter.”
“You thought I was a one-night stand,” Tabitha says. “A throwaway.”
“Isn’t that what you thought?” Franklin says. “Be honest. I barely knew you. It was for fun.”
“A drunken fling,” Tabitha says. Isn’t that what she thought? She certainly hadn’t intended to end up this emotionally vested.
“I didn’t know I was going to fall in love with you,” Franklin says.
“Are you?” Tabitha says. “In love with me?”
Franklin nods into his hands. “I think I am,” he whispers. Then he raises his head and gazes into her eyes to deliver the parting blow. “But it doesn’t matter. Sadie is my family.”
HARPER
They take the inter-island ferry: Harper, Ainsley, and Fish. Caylee and Meghan will mind the shop. This is going to be a short trip, one night, which they will spend in Harper’s duplex.
Harper says to Ainsley, “I’m sure you’re anxious to see your mother, but I don’t think I’ll be able to control my temper around her.”
Ainsley says, “That’s okay. I’ll see Tabitha—I mean, my mother—when she comes back to Nantucket, whenever that is.”
“Thank you,” Harper says. She places a protective hand on her abdomen. She is verklempt about Tabitha renovating the house. She understands exactly what happened: Tabitha heard about the party at the store from Meghan, and she figured that then gave her the right to do whatever she wanted. There was no way the opportunity to avenge was going to get past Tabitha; she has never let an affront go unanswered. Never! In many ways, Harper and Tabitha are like the Hayley Mills characters in The Parent Trap—one cuts the other’s dress during the dance; the other sets an elaborate trap of honey and string. But what Tabitha did is more than a prank. It concerns Harper’s livelihood, her survival. Harper needs the money from the proceeds of the sale. Tabitha has no idea how badly Harper needs it.
It’s disorienting to visit the Vineyard in the manner of the lowliest of tourists: the day-tripper. The ferry pulls into Oak Bluffs, and Harper is presented with a vista that is as familiar to her as her own kneecaps, yet she sees it with new eyes: the green expanse of Ocean Park, the jaunty colors of the gingerbread houses in the Methodist campground. Harper could take Ainsley on the Flying Horses carousel right now; they could have dinner at the Red Cat. But those things wouldn’t make the Vineyard feel like home.
What makes the Vineyard feel like home for Harper is the people. First of all, obviously, Billy. But Billy is dead.
From there it gets even more difficult: Drew, Reed, Brendan.
Five of the gingerbread cottages in front of them are owned by the Truman-Snyder family—Drew’s mother and his aunties, who made Harper the pot of lobster stew. Right now, Drew will be in his cruiser—maybe on Main Street in Edgartown, maybe issuing a parking ticket out in Katama, maybe sitting with his radar gun in the elementary school parking lot. He is so handsome, so well built, so well intentioned. He must hate Harper’s guts, and for good reason. She used him as a distraction from Reed.
Reed is… well, if he’s on the Vineyard, he’s doing a good job of hiding. Harper might be able to ask people she knows—Rooster? Franklin Phelps? Greenie?—if they’ve seen him or heard from him, if they know where he is. I need to talk to him, Harper would say. It’s important. But she will leave it at that.
Brendan Donegal. Brendan should be sitting by the koi pond at Mytoi or walking on East Beach skipping stones, but now Brendan, too, is dead. Harper takes a deep breath, then winds Fish’s leash around her wrist as she disembarks from the ferry. Fish pulls her along; he knows they’re home. Ainsley is right behind them. Ainsley has aged about fifteen years in the last twenty-four hours, Harper figures. That’s what handling a tragedy does to a person.
They are renting a car from A-A Island Auto Rental, on the wharf. It’s a short trip, but Harper can’t be dependent on cabdrivers who may or may not know their way around by now. They pile into a generic gunmetal-gray Jeep. Nobody will recognize her.
“Are you hungry?” Harper asks Ainsley.