The Identicals(73)

It’s Sunday, and the dump is crowded. It must be mostly locals, because Tabitha immediately picks up on a sense of community. People exude harried good cheer. It’s summer, they’re busy, there is money to be made, and if they do happen to have the weekend off, they want to get to the beach—but no one is too busy to lend a hand. An old gentleman with white hair and a long white beard, looking like a skinny Santa, sees Tabitha discarding the Jaws poster and offers to give her ten bucks for it.

“Oh, please,” Tabitha says. “Just take it.”

Unloading all the crap out of the back of the car feels good, the same way that flossing her teeth feels good. As Tabitha is getting ready to leave, she notices a woman wearing a mannish crew cut and a pair of really ugly boots step out of a truck that says GARDEN GODDESSES on the side. Local landscaper, Tabitha thinks. She remembers what TF told her on the phone: You have to know someone.

Okay, Tabitha thinks. Here goes.

“Excuse me,” she says. “I’m looking for a general contractor to do a gut renovation on my father’s house down island.” She squints at the sky. She can’t remember: is Billy’s house down island? She thinks down island is Oak Bluffs and Vineyard Haven, but actually that makes no sense because Chilmark and Aquinnah are south, so maybe that’s down island? “It’s in Tisbury. The house.”

The woman stares at Tabitha with undisguised contempt, and Tabitha gets it. She hates nothing more on Nantucket than being asked questions by tourists, or, even worse, brand-new residents. Tabitha always counted her impatience as a personality flaw, but now she sees it’s a trait that people on the Vineyard share. There’s a certain way things are done here, and if you don’t know what it is, then you don’t belong.

“A general contractor?” the woman says. “You have got to be kidding me. You’ll never find anyone to work for you on this island.”

“I know, right?” Tabitha says. “I called fifteen people this morning, and not one of them could do it. I had no idea it would be so difficult. I thought maybe if you had any suggestions…” But the woman gets into her truck, slams the door, and through the open window gives Tabitha the finger.

Tabitha thinks, Wow, okay. Vineyarders aren’t only impatient, they’re also mean! And vulgar! It’s only after the truck drives off in a cloud of dust that it dawns on Tabitha that the woman must have thought Tabitha was Harper. She must have been one more person whom Harper pissed off. You’ll never find anyone to work for you on this island.

I’m not Harper! Tabitha wants to shout.

She’s about to cry and thinks that Harper was probably right—they should tear down the house because they will never find anyone available and willing to fix it up. But it has such potential; she recognized that as she was clearing it out. There are wide plank heart-pine floors under the crappy carpeting—it was such a find that Tabitha hooted with delight—but the process of pulling up the carpet and the pad and bringing those floors to life is a job that’s beyond her modest DIY skills.

She feels a hand on her shoulder and turns to see the skinny Santa who took the Jaws poster.

“I happened to overhear your conversation,” he says. “My wife and I used a company called Hammer and Claw for a guesthouse we built for our kids and grandkids to use. The principal guy’s name is Phelps. Franklin Phelps.”

Tabitha nods, knowing she should be surprised—but she doesn’t feel at all surprised. Franklin’s company is called Hammer and Claw, and this is now the second time this morning he has been recommended.

Tabitha still feels stung by the charming woman from Garden Goddesses—and Tabitha would like to point out that this woman is no one’s idea of a goddess—but she gives skinny Santa a smile for the kindness of his input, as unsettling as it is. “Thank you,” she says.



Back at home, Tabitha checks the phone book. She had made it through the alphabet to Haggerty Construction, and the very next listing is Hammer and Claw. Is it a sign? Third time’s a charm? Or now that she has been warned this is Franklin’s company, should she skip down to Inkwell Beach Builders? She’s dying to talk to Franklin, which is an argument only for not calling. If she calls, it could easily end badly for her.

Her mother would, no doubt, advise Tabitha not to call. A woman should never pursue a man, in her opinion, although it’s a well-documented fact that Eleanor ruthlessly stole Billy Frost from her cousin Rhonda.

And what would Billy say? Tabitha wonders. She eyes the urn containing his ashes. Safe to assume Billy would give advice opposite to Eleanor’s. Nothing’s going to happen until you make it happen.

She’s in Billy’s house; perhaps that’s why his argument is more compelling.



Franklin answers on the first ring. “Yo.”

Yo? Tabitha thinks. That’s the way Ainsley’s friends answer the phone. It’s probably not inappropriate, then, that she suddenly feels like a sixteen-year-old trying to pass for an adult.

“Oh, hello,” she says, wondering if her acting skills are up to snuff or if she will be completely transparent. “I’m looking for a contractor for my father’s house, on Daggett Avenue. My father recently passed away, and I want to do a gut renovation so I can put the house on the market.”

“Uh-huh,” Franklin says. “How many square feet is the house? And when were you thinking of starting?”