Reed wakes up to a round of applause coming from inside the boat. He blinks his eyes and sits up straight as Nantucket comes into focus. Lighthouse, jetty, big houses along the harbor—it’s not so different from the Vineyard, he thinks. He should be fine.
When they dock, he hangs back to let everyone else get off first. If Franklin hangs back as well, then Reed will know he’s only there to keep tabs on him. And how will Reed explain this trip? It’s folly, really. He received a visit from Harper’s twin sister, Tabitha, which almost ended disastrously—but Tabitha admitted her identity in the nick of time and ran from the house. Reed thought that if Tabitha is on the Vineyard, then Harper might be on Nantucket, with their mother.
Reed had scoured the woods behind Aunt Dot’s house for his phone. He found it, but it was cold and dead, ruined by moisture. He rode his bike to the library to use a computer and found one Frost listed in the white pages on Nantucket—an Eleanor Roxie-Frost. Is that Harper’s mother’s name? Yes, he thinks so.
Franklin is lucky enough to get a taxi right away. It’s actually offered to him by the parents of one of the teenyboppers in his audience. It’s only when Franklin gets into the taxi that he realizes he has no idea where he’s going. He checks his phone and sees he has a missed call from Tabitha. It must have come in while he was playing. He nearly calls her back, but then he thinks how much better it will be if he just shows up to surprise her.
He leans over the seat. The cabdriver is a middle-aged guy wearing a “Free Brady” T-shirt.
“Do you by any chance know where the Frosts live?” Franklin asks.
The driver nods. “Sure do.”
NANTUCKET
Eleanor and Flossie are enjoying their last happy hour together, with Ainsley for company. Eleanor sent Felipa to 167 to get the bluefish paté, the guacamole, and two pounds of shrimp cocktail. Eleanor wants to send Flossie off in style. They’re ordering in from the Lobster Trap tonight—surf and turf!
Eleanor raises a glass. “Flossie, I don’t know what I ever would have done without you.”
Flossie clinks her glass against Eleanor’s. “Probably inspired Felipa to murder you in your sleep.”
The doorbell rings. Eleanor looks at Ainsley. “Maybe it’s your mother, back already. Go see, please, darling.”
Ainsley rises, and Flossie says, “I can’t believe you make your own daughters ring the bell. Honestly, Ellie, you need to loosen up.”
Eleanor disagrees. She’s about to inform Flossie that she is loose enough as it is, thank you very much, when Ainsley walks onto the porch escorting a very handsome gentleman holding a guitar.
He bows in front of Eleanor as though she’s a queen. Eleanor loves this man already! But who is he? And why the guitar? Eleanor fears this is a singing telegram or a male stripper, something orchestrated by Flossie on her last day in order to loosen Eleanor up.
“I’m Franklin Phelps,” the gentleman says. “I’ve come in search of Tabitha.”
“Tabitha?” Eleanor says. Here is the suitor, then! The brother of the woman married to Billy’s doctor. Eleanor remembers herself and holds out her hand. “Franklin, I’m Eleanor Roxie-Frost, Tabitha’s mother.”
“And I’m Flossie,” Flossie says, offering her hand. She wants right in on the action, Eleanor sees. Typical Flossie! She can’t leave a good-looking male alone. “I’m Tabitha’s aunt.”
“Nice to meet you both,” Franklin says.
“I told him Mom’s not here,” Ainsley says. “She’s on the Vineyard.”
“Comedy of errors,” Franklin says. “I just came from the Vineyard.”
“She’ll be right back,” Eleanor says. “By morning, anyway. You might as well sit tight right here. I’ll have Felipa make up the guest room.”
“I couldn’t impose,” Franklin says.
“I want you to impose!” Eleanor says.
“Me, too!” Flossie says.
Eleanor turns to Flossie, trying not to let her impatience with her flirtatious younger sister show. “Can we offer Franklin a drink, Flossie?”
“We can!” Flossie says. “What’s your poison, Franklin?”
“A beer would be wonderful,” Franklin says. “Or a whiskey, if you don’t have beer.”
“Whiskey it is,” Eleanor says. She waves Flossie away to fetch the drink. “Please sit, Franklin. And then tell us what it is you do for a living. Are you a professional musician?”
“I play the guitar for fun,” Franklin says. He settles in the armchair opposite Eleanor and places the guitar case at his feet. “By trade I’m a carpenter. I have my own construction business. I’m helping Tabitha and Harper renovate Billy’s house.”
Eleanor claps her hands. “Well, when you’re finished with that, you can renovate my house,” she says. She casts her eyes around. What could use a spruce-up? Surely there must be something.
Flossie returns with Franklin’s drink. “The house is perfect as it is, Ellie,” Flossie says. She winks at Franklin. “That’s just Eleanor’s way of saying she likes you.”
Eleanor is embarrassed by this statement, although she does indeed like this gentleman—he’s adorable! Eleanor didn’t think she would ever like anyone as much as she liked Ramsay Striker, but she’s pleased to see she was wrong about that.
The doorbell rings again.
“Grand Central Station,” Flossie mutters.
Ainsley stands up. “Maybe that’s Mom.”
But the person Ainsley brings into the glassed-in porch next is another gentleman caller. This one is bespectacled and a bit more buttoned-up: khaki pants, custom-tailored shirt (Eleanor knows bespoke when she sees it), and suede Gucci loafers. Ainsley looks like she’s popped a whole habanero pepper unwittingly into her mouth. She’s pink, and her eyes are bulging.
Cute Franklin gets to his feet. “Reed?”
The new caller turns to Eleanor. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Dr. Reed Zimmer. I’m looking for Harper.”
“Harper?” Eleanor says. She gasps. “Are you the father, then?”
“Father?” Franklin says.
The doctor blanches. “Father?” he says.
“The father,” Flossie says in clarification. “Of Harper’s baby. She’s pregnant, you know.”
It’s clear from the misty look that comes over the doctor’s face that he doesn’t know. Leave it to Flossie to let the cat out of the bag, Eleanor thinks. The moment of everyone’s speechless shock gives Eleanor a chance to compare and contrast the two gentlemen before her. Franklin, with his darling mussed hair and his flip-flops, seems like he would be more Harper’s type. And this Dr. Zimmer, with his glasses and his bespoke shirt, seems like he would be more Tabitha’s type. But apparently it’s the other way around.
There is nothing more mysterious, confounding, and unknowable, Eleanor thinks, than the desires of the human heart.
“Flossie,” she says. “Can’t you see the man needs a drink?” To the doctor, Eleanor says, “Please sit down. And try the bluefish paté. It’s wonderful.”
EPILOGUE: FISH