“We’ll each do three shots,” Bart says. “Chased by these beers. Then we’ll go back inside.”
“I’m in,” Allegra says.
Tequila shot #1:
Bart says, “Why are you still on Nantucket? Did you not go to college?”
“Wow,” Allegra says. “Tough questions right off the bat.”
Bart cocks an eyebrow, a trick Centaur taught him while they were still in basic training.
“I went to UMass Dartmouth last year,” Allegra says. “Flunked out. Too much partying.”
“So let me guess,” Bart says. “This wasn’t your first shot of tequila?”
In lieu of answering, Allegra takes a little bow. “Now let me ask you something.”
Bart nods.
“Why are you still on Nantucket? You’re a war hero. Doesn’t the government give you a million dollars and a mansion in Beverly Hills?”
“Hardly,” Bart says. He takes a long draft of his beer. Then he wants to belch, but he holds back, as he is in the presence of a lady. “I’m here on Nantucket for two reasons. One, my father is dying. Two, I don’t know what else to do.” He looks at Allegra. “And by the way, I’m not a war hero.”
Allegra tilts her head, and Bart sees the chopsticks securing her dark bun. “No?”
I let them take my best friend to the Pit, Bart thinks. I tried to save him, but I failed.
“Time for another shot,” he says.
Tequila shot #2:
“Tell me about your family,” Bart says.
“Well,” Allegra says, taking a ladylike sip of her beer. “I have a twin sister.”
“You mean there are two girls on Nantucket as beautiful as you?” Bart asks.
“Hope goes to Bucknell,” Allegra says. “She’s the smart one, I’m the pretty one.”
“But you’re identical?” Bart says.
“Yes,” Allegra says. “I only say that I’m the pretty one to make myself feel better. Hope is at college, and I’m working as a receptionist at my aunt and uncle’s real estate agency. Bayberry Properties, on Main Street.”
Bayberry Properties, on Main Street. Bart makes a mental note. That’s what one is supposed to do with women—notice the little things. Maybe later this week he’ll stop by to see if Allegra wants to have lunch. Maybe he’ll send flowers.
“What about your parents?” Bart asks. “That was your dad you came in with, right?”
“My parents are kind of a sore topic,” Allegra says. “Until three years ago they were normal, boring parents. We lived out on Wauwinet Road in a big house that overlooked Polpis Harbor. My father used to own his own real estate company, and my mother had this enormous garden where she raised chickens.”
“Chickens?” Bart says. His stomach lurches. He can’t talk about chickens.
“My mother was annoying at times, and my father used to complain about how much money we were costing him. But then, over the course of one summer, my mother started having an affair with our landscaper, and my father ran a prostitution ring out in Sconset. He went to jail. He just got out in July. We lost the house in Wauwinet, and now we all live in this tiny cottage in town.”
Bart nods. Affair. Prostitution ring. Jail. He knows he should be shocked, but if anyone has a family with weirder stories than Allegra, it’s Bart Quinn.
“But your parents are still together?” Bart asks. “They survived?”
“They are,” Allegra says. “They did. My mom didn’t come tonight because she’s volunteering at Academy Hill. Handing out candy.”
“My parents are still together too,” Bart says. “And my mother had an affair.” Here he shakes his head. He eyes the bottle of tequila but drinks his beer instead. “With this guy named George who came to our inn every year to play Santa Claus.”
This makes Allegra laugh. As it should. Because it’s absurd. Apparently, while Bart was away, Kelley and Mitzi separated. Mitzi moved with George to Lenox, Massachusetts. And Kelley entertained thoughts of getting back together with Margaret, his first wife. But love won out in the end—that’s what Mitzi said when she explained it all to Bart. She said she wanted to tell Bart everything so that there were no secrets in the family. But honestly, Bart feels like he wouldn’t have minded if Kelley and Mitzi had kept all of that a secret forever. Mitzi and George—ick! And it had been going on all the years that Bart was growing up, even back when Bart believed that George was Santa Claus.
“My siblings are fine,” Bart concedes. “They’re my half siblings, the children of my father and Margaret Quinn, the news anchor.”
Allegra nods like she gets it, but she may be too young to know who Margaret Quinn is. Only old people watch the news on TV.
“Patrick and Kevin are married with kids,” Bart says. He thinks about informing Allegra that Patrick has also been to jail recently, but why not save some surprises for the second date? “Ava teaches music in New York City. She’s still single, but she’s dating some guy. A professor.”
“Your sister was my music teacher in fifth grade,” Allegra says.
Bart laughs. “She was?” he says. “Too bad for you.”
Tequila shot #3:
He’s trying to decide if Allegra might be a person to whom he can confide everything. She has good listening skills, and she seems to have a fair amount of emotional depth, more than one would expect from a beautiful nineteen—year-old. Girls who look like Allegra have life unfold easily. They get what they want. They don’t hit roadblocks. Allegra seems to have a few demons of her own, although they are nothing compared with Bart’s. She’s never been out of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. She is, in essence, him before he joined the Marines.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Bart asks. Here he is, all but proposing to the girl, and he hasn’t even checked if she’s available. Girls as pretty as Allegra always have boyfriends, he reasons. But then again, if she had a boyfriend, would she have agreed to come outside with him?
“Had,” she says. “Until recently. Hunter Bloch. You know him?”
“Ugh,” Bart says. “Yes.” Hunter Bloch was two years ahead of Bart in high school. He was a hockey player and his father had money, two factors that made Bart steer clear of the guy. “Until how recently?”
“We dated for four months,” Allegra says. “I found out a couple of days ago that he was cheating on me.”
Bart whistles. “Idiot.”
Allegra executes her cute little bow again.
“Maybe his stupid mistake is my good fortune?” Bart says.
Allegra tilts her head. “Maybe.”
Is it the tequila taking control of his brain, or is she actually the most desirable woman he has ever laid eyes on? “I haven’t dated anyone since high school,” he says. “I mean, before I deployed, there were girls… one-night stands.”
Allegra says, “I would expect nothing less.”
“Then I was held prisoner for two years,” Bart says. “I watched half of my buddies…”
“Bart,” she says. She steps closer to him and takes his hand.
Kiss her, he thinks. Does he remember how? He leans in. His lips meet hers, softly, so softly.
Yes, he remembers how.
KELLEY