Driftwood Lane (Nantucket #4)(58)

“Are you lined up?”

“Lined up and ready to go.” Meridith watched Ben and Max playing with a friendly black Lab. Noelle chatted with a friend three cars up.

“Do you have plans for the tailgate picnic? I made a ton of food, and we’d love for you and the kids to join us.”

The picnic was held on the lush lawns of Sconset after the parade. “Our basket is in the trunk, but we’d love to join you.”

“Great. Look for our car when you get there, and give me a jingle if you can’t find us. I have to go, the gallery is packed!”

“We’ll see you then.” Meridith said good-bye and hung up. The children would be glad for the company. Especially Noelle, if Rita’s son was present.

She was glad they’d decided to be in the parade. She knew from the books on grief that the festival was a milestone event, and the children were using it to honor their parents. She looked at the cross and cap dangling from the mirror. She also knew the festival could trigger a resurgence of loss, and she was glad they were joining Rita and her family. The distraction could be just what they needed.

A chilly breeze blew through the window, ruffling her hair. She took a deep whiff of the flower-scented air and relaxed into the white leather seat, letting the car glide toward Sconset behind a black antique Ford.

The children had settled in their seats, the excitement of the parade draining away as Nantucket town faded in her rearview mirror.

A For Sale sign in a landscaped yard caught her attention, turning her mind back to the previous evening when she and the Goldmans had sat on the porch sipping hot chocolate after the children turned in. They’d inquired about Summer Place’s future, and Meridith had confided that she was selling.

“We’ve talked over the years about buying a bed-and-breakfast now that I’ve retired,” Mr. Goldman said.

“Summer Place is like a second home to us. Wouldn’t that be great if we could work something out?” Mrs. Goldman said.

They’d talked over an hour, and Meridith was thrilled. If the Goldmans bought it, she wouldn’t have to put the place on the market, wouldn’t have to pay a Realtor fee, and the house would go to familiar people. She thought that might help the children adjust to the idea of moving to St. Louis.

The thought of returning home brought her to Stephen. Though the topic of the children hadn’t resurfaced all week, their conversations had been stilted.

When she answered his calls, a strange sensation welled in the pit of her stomach, a sort of weighted feeling she was eager to be rid of. She needed to clear the air. But every time she considered broaching the subject, she remembered Stephen’s words. I guess you have a choice to make.

Maybe he was waiting on her. The real problem then was that there was no choice, no decision. She couldn’t abandon the children. How could she let her siblings go to foster care, possibly separated? Why couldn’t he understand that?

These thoughts had circled her mind all week, always ending in that heavy-weighted feeling and the realization that, regardless of the ring on her finger and the promise it implied, her relationship with Stephen might be over before it had hardly begun.

The car in front of her braked as they entered the town of Sconset, and Meridith pulled to the side of the road behind the long line of cars.

“There’s the Lawsons’ car.” Max pointed across the street.

Rita had seen them pull up and was waving as they exited the car. The kids ran to catch up with the Lawsons, and Meridith retrieved the cooler from the trunk.

She made her way across the street and wove between cars and people, crossing the lawn. The weight of the cooler strained her arms.

Rita’s son, Brandon, was jogging toward her, no doubt on a mission to take her load. But he was still twenty feet away when her foot hit a dip in the ground. Her ankle turned and her leg crumbled under the heavy weight of the cooler.

Jake wandered down the Sconset street. The smell of grilling burgers wafted through the air, tempting him. He scanned the crowd of people and tangle of parked cars and lawn chairs.

The kids had begged him to join them for the picnic, but it presented a challenge. What if someone mentioned his niece and nephews in front of Meridith? What if they mentioned his cycle or the fact that he usually wasn’t back from the mainland in time for the festival? What if they offered their condolences on Eva’s death?

“Hey, Jake! Come join us,” Willow called from a knot of people clustered behind a black ’72 Chevy.

Jake approached the group and shook Wyatt’s hand as his friend stood. “Sweet ride.”

“Wish it were mine,” Wyatt said. “Got plenty of food.” The smell of garlic and something sweet seconded his offer.

“And my cousin from Boston is here.” Willow winked. “She’s dying to meet you.”

Before he could decline, a tall, honey-haired woman appeared. Willow introduced them, and they chatted a moment before the cousin went to help Willow set out the food.

“Pull up a chair,” Wyatt said. “I wasn’t kidding when I said we have plenty.”

“Thanks, but I’m looking for Meridith and the kids. Have you seen them?”

Wyatt gave him a look. “They’re over that way with another family.” He leaned in close. “Dude.” He gestured at Willow’s cousin, who was fighting the wind with a checkered tablecloth.