And what about Jennifer’s self-respect? If anyone should be apologizing and asking for a fresh start, it should be Grayson Coker!
With this thought, Jennifer falls fast asleep… and awakens when Paddy pulls into the parking lot at the Hyannis airport.
“We’re here,” Patrick says. “How was your nap?”
It’s probably best that Jennifer didn’t tell Patrick about Grayson Coker, because then the entire trip to Nantucket would be ruined. Instead everything unfolds seamlessly. Patrick and Jennifer have only five minutes to wait before their Cape Air flight to Nantucket boards. They are the only two people on the flight aside from the pilot, and the day is crisp and clear. The flight across the blue glass of Nantucket Sound is like a magic carpet ride.
Jennifer will wait and tell Patrick later. She will tell him on their way home.
Jennifer and Patrick take a taxi to the inn, where a bottle of Jennifer’s favorite chardonnay is chilling in the fridge. Jennifer and Patrick repair to their room upstairs to enjoy some much-needed alone time. Afterward they shower and get dressed, then go back down to the kitchen, where they forage for some unhealthy, nonorganic snacks. Jennifer comes up with a box of Bremner wafers, a hunk of Brie, and a can of Spanish peanuts. Bingo! As she lays out the feast, the kitchen fills with Quinns: Bart first, then Ava, then Kevin and Isabelle.
Jennifer is reminded of just how fortunate she is. She’s an only child, and since her father’s death, her “family” has consisted of just her and her mother, Beverly. But she and Patrick have been together for so long that Jennifer truly feels like Patrick’s family is her family, and she realizes that they feel the same way about her.
This bubble of happiness is all but popped when Jennifer goes upstairs to put on her makeup but Patrick stays downstairs because Mitzi wants to “chat” with him “real quick” before they head out to the VFW.
When Patrick comes back to the room, he looks like he’s about to cry.
“What?” Jennifer says. “Is it your father?” She agrees that Kelley looks very sick, but everyone’s expectations have been adjusted. Hospice has been called. Kelley has a month left, maybe two if they’re lucky.
“It’s Mitzi,” Patrick says. “She’s going to sell the inn.”
Jennifer nods slowly. On the one hand, she thinks selling the inn is a good idea. It’s too much for Mitzi to handle alone, and Kevin and Isabelle now have their business to run and their children to raise. Bart could help if he were at all interested, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. On the other hand, the idea of selling the inn worries Jennifer. At some point over the summer when Kelley’s health took a turn for the worse, Mitzi talked to Jennifer about what she might do next, if the unthinkable happened and Kelley didn’t get better.
“I’d love to do what you do,” Mitzi said. “Become an interior designer. Maybe we can go into business together.”
Jennifer murmured some vague encouragements in response, but she would never, ever, ever go into business with Mitzi. She thought about how kitschy-country charming Mitzi’s taste is. She thought about the Byers’ Choice carolers Mitzi sets out at Christmas. She tried not to shudder.
“It might not be a bad idea,” Jennifer says to Patrick.
“What?” Patrick says. He’s genuinely agitated; the tips of his ears are turning red. “Do you know what that would mean? It would mean we would have no place to stay here on Nantucket. We would no longer be Nantucketers.”
“Oh,” Jennifer says. “Won’t Mitzi buy something else?”
“She says she hasn’t decided,” Patrick says. “But she also said she might buy a condo in Sherburne Commons.”
“Sherburne Commons?” Jennifer says. “But she’s only… what? Forty-nine? Fifty?”
“Whatever she buys won’t be big enough for all of us to come visit,” Patrick says. “And Kevin and Isabelle don’t have room for us.”
“So we’ll rent,” Jennifer says.
Patrick sits on the edge of the bed and drops his head into his hands. “We should have bought when we had the chance.”
Jennifer decides not to point out that when they “had the chance” was back when their accounts were fat with illegally gotten funds. “Please,” she says. “Let’s not ruin tonight by fretting about money. You need to get your business up and running, then we can worry about Nantucket.”
“I don’t expect you to understand,” Patrick says. “I’m losing my father and I’m losing my home.”
Jennifer is glad she didn’t break her news to Patrick on the way here—but is it going to be any easier on the way home? She blithely suggested they could rent, but without the penthouse project, they’ll never be able to afford it.
She needs another project—and fast. A big client. Who are the five people in Boston richer than Grayson Coker? she wonders.
She takes a deep breath. “Stand up,” she says. “People are waiting for us.”
As they’re driving out to the VFW, Jennifer’s phone pings. She checks the display, expecting it to be a report from the babysitter, but she sees it’s a text from Norah Vale. Kevin is driving, Patrick is sitting shotgun, and Isabelle is seated next to Jennifer in the backseat. Jennifer feels a wave of guilt that she is receiving a message from Kevin’s ex-wife. Why is she the only person among the Quinns who is still tethered to Norah?
Well, she knows why. The drugs.
The drugs, even the flicker of the possibility of drugs in Jennifer’s future, are too much to resist. Maybe if she stays away from the oxy… maybe if she just sticks to the Ativan… then at least she will be able to sleep.
She opens the text. It says: I’m assuming you’re on island for Bart’s party? Any chance you can meet me tomorrow for coffee? I’d really like to talk to you about something.
Jennifer knows she should delete the message. Or not respond. She should definitely not respond with two glasses of wine sitting on top of her anxiety.
Jennifer gives Isabelle a sidelong glance, then she types back: I may have some time early tomorrow. Where for coffee?
Her phone pings a second later: Hub at 8:30?
Okay, Jennifer responds. See you then.
BART
He knows his mother won’t like it, but oh well. He lifts a bottle of Patrón and two Coronas from the bar and leads Allegra Pancik out the side door of the VFW, where there is, conveniently, a small porch with a table and two chairs overlooking the scrub pines of the state forest.
“But it’s your party,” Allegra says.
“We’ll be back before anyone misses us,” Bart says. “My presence isn’t really required. This is a party my mother threw to make herself feel better.”
“Parents,” Allegra says.
Bart isn’t sure what happened, but when he saw Allegra Pancik all dolled up like a geisha, he thought: My siblings are right. I do need a girlfriend.
And.
There.
She.
Is.
She was a freshman at Nantucket High School when he was a senior. So maybe he still has upperclassman allure? She’s not too young for him. At nineteen, she’s an adult, although not old enough to drink.
Legally.