The Identicals(55)

“The good news is that Mary Jo’s son and daughter-in-law have finally intervened. They’re moving her to a retirement community in Maryland, closer to them.”

“Thank God,” Ainsley says.

“So you get to hire someone new!” Meghan says.

“Or we can just do it ourselves,” Harper says.

Meghan groans again. “You can’t possibly do it yourselves,” she says. “You’ll lose your mind—I guarantee it. Place an ad and find someone with retail expertise. It doesn’t have to be in fashion. Someone responsible but relaxed, firm but friendly. That’s what this store needs to become—relaxed and friendly. A place where you’re welcomed and remembered and talked to pleasantly, even if you do come in wearing culottes with Skechers. It’s up to you guys to change the reputation of the Eleanor Roxie-Frost boutique on Nantucket. Before it goes under.”

“Under?” Harper says.

“Sales stink,” Meghan says. “That’s another thing Tabitha seems to have her head in the sand about. This store has been losing money for years.”

For the first time in practically ever, Harper feels a pang of sympathy for her mother and sister. In so many ways, they are their own worst enemies. It looks like it’s up to her and Ainsley to rescue the store. She can just picture Tabitha and Eleanor shuddering at this thought.

“I’ll give it a shot,” she says.



It’s nearly the end of school. Ainsley has only one half day left, which she is already pressuring Harper to let her skip.

“Don’t you like the last day?” Harper asks. “Don’t you all sign one another’s yearbooks?”

Ainsley looks at her feet. She’s wearing a pair of fancy flip-flops decorated with faux jewels—red, turquoise, yellow. The baubles look like gumballs. Harper was excited to see that Tabitha carries more flip-flops like this—Mystique sandals—in the boutique. Harper is going to get a tortoise-shell pair and wear them all summer long.

“Ainsley?”

“What?” Ainsley says. Each day after school she has been more somber and withdrawn than the day before. There have been no rides home with Emma or other friends. Just now, in the shop, she was the most lively she’s been since her trip to the principal’s office. “The half day is pointless. It has something to do with state mandates. No one is going to be teaching. I’d rather be at the boutique.”

“Let me think about it,” Harper says. She squints as she steps out of the cool, fragrant boutique onto the bright, busy street. She misses Edgartown, the Vineyard in general, Reed.

Reed is gone? Harper has done a gut check every day since Rooster told her this. Does she believe Reed has left the Vineyard, and, if so, where did he go? Is he looking for Harper? If he were looking for Harper, where would he go? Where would he think she’d gone?

The circular reasoning addles her.

He would never guess Nantucket. He knows Tabitha lives here, and he knows Harper and Tabitha don’t speak. Furthermore, Vineyarders don’t go to Nantucket and vice versa. It’s like some weird law: you pick one island or the other.

Harper likes caring for Ainsley because it limits the time she has to dwell on such things. “Let’s get ice cream.”

“Pharmacy,” Ainsley says. “Not the Juice Bar. Kids from school will be at the Juice Bar.”

“Pharmacy it is, then,” Harper says.



A bell jingles as they walk in the door of the Nantucket Pharmacy. It’s that kind of charming, old-fashioned place. There’s a Formica lunch counter with vinyl-and-chrome stools. Ainsley and Harper take seats. There’s a man in a shirt and tie sitting at the end of the counter eating a thick tuna-salad sandwich on pumpernickel bread.

“Hey, you!” Ainsley says.

“Hey, Trouble!” The man rises from his seat, and Harper realizes it’s Ramsay, whom she had lunch with the week before. He scoops up Ainsley and hugs her tightly. Ainsley rests her head on Ramsay’s chest and locks her arms behind his back. They are slow to part, and when they do, Harper sees that Ainsley’s eyes are misty.

She comes right out and confesses. “I got suspended.” Then she starts to cry.

Ramsay gathers her up again, shushes her, plants a kiss in the part of her hair. “I see growth,” he says. “Because six months ago, you would have treated getting suspended like no big deal, maybe even like a badge of honor. Now at least you know better.”

“Hello, Ramsay,” Harper says.

Ramsay releases Ainsley and extends a hand to Harper. “It’s still eerie to me,” he says. “You two look exactly alike.”

Ainsley wipes her face with a paper napkin, leans across the counter, and orders a chocolate frappé. “What would you like?” Ainsley asks Harper.

Harper eyes Ramsay’s plate. “Bag of chips,” she says. “I prefer salty to sweet.”

“That would have been a dead giveaway,” Ramsay says. “Tabitha loves her sweets.”

“When she eats,” Ainsley says.

“When she eats,” Ramsay concedes.

A yellow bag of Lay’s appears in Harper’s hands. “Don’t let us keep you from your lunch,” she says. She checks the clock; it’s four thirty. “Or your dinner.”