The Identicals(25)

They find Eleanor sidled up to the bar at Coop DeVille, where she has ordered a glass of champagne (Tabitha assumes that at this establishment, it’s prosecco) and is telling the buxom young bartender, Carmen, that she is Billy Frost’s widow.

“I knew Billy well,” Carmen says. “He came in here all the time. That was his usual stool over there.” She points to an empty stool at the far end of the bar, farthest from the dock and closest to the TV.

“Well, then,” Eleanor says. “That is where I shall sit.”

Ainsley nudges Tabitha. “Grammie is drunk.”

Apparently so, Tabitha thinks. Her mother holds her liquor better than anyone Tabitha has ever known, but champagne has always been her Achilles’ heel. She loves it, but it gets her blotto. Tabitha only saw her drink one glass, maybe two, at the reception, but Eleanor is sneaky and may have consumed as many as four or five glasses, making this her sixth glass.

“Mother, we have to go,” Tabitha says. “The ferry is leaving.”

“You have twelve minutes,” Carmen says. But even so, she writes out a tab. Five dollars.

Cheap prosecco, Tabitha thinks.



Eleanor continues to drink on the boat. The Hy-Line has upped its food and beverage game over the past couple of years. All the soups and sandwiches are made from scratch, and one can even get a decent-looking cheese-and-fruit platter as well as good wine by the glass or bottle.

“They serve Veuve Clicquot!” Eleanor announces from her place in line.

“Mother, please don’t,” Tabitha says. She nudges Ainsley. “Can you encourage your grandmother to drink water?”

“I’m not doing your dirty work for you, Tabitha,” Ainsley says. “I hate you.”

“You hate me? Really?”

“You think because Grammie ruined your life that now it’s your job to ruin my life,” Ainsley says. “Aunt Harper was smart. She went with Gramps. I’m thinking about going to live with Dad for the summer.”

Tabitha nearly says, He doesn’t want you. But that is cruel, primarily because it’s true. Wyatt has remarried, sired three sons, ages ten, seven, and four, and lives with his wife, Becky, in a gracious home overlooking Craigville Beach, on the Cape. Becky has a problem with Ainsley. She hates her for no apparent reason other than petty jealousy. She doesn’t want Ainsley around the boys, and Wyatt does little in the way of championing his daughter. When he has painting jobs on Nantucket, he will take Ainsley to lunch or dinner. But he never invites Ainsley to the Cape, not even for the weekend.

“Okay,” Tabitha says neutrally.

Eleanor sits down next to Tabitha, sips her champagne, then starts to cry. “Your father is gone,” she says. “He’s dead.”

Ainsley leans forward. “Did you love him, Grammie?” She seems genuinely interested.

“With all my heart,” Eleanor says. “I met your grandfather on December 22, 1967. He was my cousin Rhonda’s date to my parents’ annual Christmas party at the country club. Rhonda showed up stoned, and my parents made her leave.” Eleanor closes her eyes, and Ainsley can feel her transporting herself to another time, back when people went to parties in horse-drawn carriages. “Your grandfather stayed, and we danced all night.”

“That sounds romantic,” Ainsley says.

“And you know who else I love?” Eleanor says. “Your aunt Harper. I’ve missed her desperately.”

“Really?” Ainsley says, delighted.

“No,” Tabitha says. “That’s the champagne talking.”

Eleanor reaches across Tabitha to lay a hand on Ainsley’s knee. “Here’s the secret to all human relationships,” she says. “We humans want what we don’t have. Harper went with Billy, and I’ve longed for her ever since.”

“Mother!” Tabitha says. “That is simply not true.”

“You aren’t privy to the secrets of my innermost heart,” Eleanor says.

“Aunt Harper is so cool,” Ainsley says. “But I’m not talking about how she dresses, obviously.”

Eleanor nods. “Her ensemble today was a travesty. I’m going to send her some inventory tomorrow.” She turns to Tabitha. “What size are you, dear?”

“I’m a size four, Mother,” Tabitha says. “You know I’m a size four.”

“I’m going to send Harper twos,” Eleanor says. “She looked a little thinner than you.”

“It’s just that she acts cool,” Ainsley says. “She’s chill. By which I mean the opposite of uptight.”

Tabitha can’t believe she’s hearing this. Eleanor has been pining for Harper ever since Harper left with Billy? That is revisionist history at its most interesting. Tabitha knows for a fact that Harper used to go visit Eleanor regularly in Boston, although she probably hasn’t been since the ghastly drug bust. But still, it’s hardly as though they’ve been kept from each other. The champagne is turning Eleanor into something from Lady Sings the Blues. And Ainsley thinks Harper is chill? Harper is cool? Did Ainsley miss the part of the reception when the wife of Harper’s lover—who also happened to be Billy’s doctor—slapped Tabitha across the face, mistakenly believing it was Harper? Is it cool to be called a tramp? It’s possible that Ainsley doesn’t realize the quagmire Harper got herself into three years ago, delivering three pounds of cocaine to a landscaping client. Harper should rightly have gone to prison. They should be going to visit her at Framingham instead of Martha’s Vineyard. Would that be chill? Ainsley may not realize that her aunt now delivers packages for a living. She didn’t get hired by UPS or FedEx because she had no decent references, so instead she works for a local operation called Rooster Express. Billy had shown Tabitha a picture of Harper on his phone: Harper was wearing a red collared shirt and a baseball cap emblazoned with an offensively grinning bird. The job is not chill. It is not cool. Harper’s life is a shit show. If Tabitha is the only person here who can see that, then fine.