Golden Girl(56)

JP is running his hand up and down Savannah’s back in a way that seems meant to be comforting. Savannah’s breath is shuddering; she must have just finished a good cry. She lifts her face to JP’s. Their mouths are inches apart. Their eyes lock.

Kiss her! Vivi thinks.

Or will that be weird?

Well, it will be no weirder than Vivi’s novel The Angle of Light, about two characters who found each other after their respective spouses died. JP and Savannah have lost the same person—her!—so their bond would be even stronger. They don’t have to fight over Vivi’s attention anymore; there’s nothing coming between them.

Literally nothing. They’re hip to hip.

Kiss her! Vivi thinks again.

JP says, “Are you going to be okay? I should probably go home.”

Savannah seems to snap back to her pragmatic self. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry I got so emotional. It’s just…you’re the only person who gets it.”

“I know,” JP says. He wipes a tear from Savannah’s cheek. “Let’s do this again next week. And actually eat something.”

Savannah laughs. “How about a week from today? Friday-Night Sad-Sack Supper Club.”

“You got it.” JP releases Savannah and takes a step back.

“How is everything with Amy?” Savannah asks.

“Confusing,” JP says. He sighs. “I’m going to end things. Ask her to move out.”

“Whoa,” Savannah says.

Whoa! Vivi thinks.

“Amy was a mistake,” JP says.

“A ten-year mistake?” Savannah says. “Come on, JP. You must have feelings for her.”

“I did,” JP says. “Or I thought I did. When I met her, she was young, pretty, sweet, earnest, adoring. I was dazzled by the way she saw me. She made me feel important, and Vivi made me feel like a loser. So I started things with Amy because I wanted to feel good all the time. And I did, for years—but there were problems too. She drove a wedge between me and the kids.”

Yes, Vivi thinks. So much time has passed that Vivi has let go of most of her resentment toward Amy. Amy was young and impressionable that first summer when she worked for JP, and he took advantage of her. She’s invested ten years in him without any promise of a commitment. Surely she wants a ring? But she’s settled for nothing, and now JP is tossing her out.

“She was always jealous of Vivi. She was so busy being jealous of Vivi that she never fully became her own person. Back in September, I bought her an engagement ring, but every time I looked at it, I panicked, so I returned it to the jeweler in Boston. I’ve lost whatever feelings I had for Amy, something I’ve willfully ignored for the past year or two, but now that Vivi’s gone, I need to be honest with myself. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days with Amy Van Pelt.”

“What did she think about you coming over here?” Savannah asks. “She couldn’t have been too happy.”

“She’s out with her friend Lorna,” JP says. “She put on a vampy dress. I think she was trying to make me jealous, and maybe five years ago, or even last year, I would have been jealous. But now I just hope that when she goes out, she meets someone else.”

“Wow,” Savannah says.

“What about you?” JP asks. “Are you seeing anyone? Coach of an NBA team? CEO of Colgate-Palmolive? Head of surgery at Mass General?”

“No one right now,” Savannah says. “There was the crown prince of a minor European nation, but we called it quits.”

JP laughs and Savannah wheels him toward the hallway. “Go home, JP.” At the front door, there’s another hug, and Vivi thinks, Kiss her! It’s not too late! If you’re breaking up with Amy anyway, just kiss her!

They separate and JP disappears out the door, down the friendship stairs, and into the dark night. Savannah closes the door behind him, then leans against it and smiles.

She likes him! Vivi thinks. Maybe?

“You could have used one of your nudges, you know.” Suddenly, Martha is sitting on the green velvet chaise with an Hermès scarf wrapped around her entire head like she’s a fortune-teller. “It would have worked. They were close.”

“I’m the novelist here,” Vivi says. “Let’s give it another couple of chapters.”





Willa




Summer in Wee Bit starts to take on a rhythm, a routine, and this keeps Willa from falling into a yawning hole of despair. Willa wakes up early every morning and takes her herbal tea to the back deck where she watches the sun turn the sky a pearlescent pink. She doesn’t eat anything; she can’t, her morning sickness hovers around her like a green miasma. She welcomes it. Has she ever been this sick before? She thinks not. She’s constantly on the lookout for ways that this pregnancy is different.

Some days she drives to work, and other days, she bikes the six miles into town. The ride is picturesque, bucolic—over the simple bridge that spans the neck of Madaket Harbor, through the hamlet of Madaket, along the famed twenty-seven curves that lead past the creek and the turtling pond until she’s cruising the final mile to the flagpole at Caton Circle, which marks the top of Main Street. Willa wants to avoid the cobblestones in her condition, so she bikes the long way around—New Lane to West Chester (which is, if anyone is interested in Nantucket’s history, the oldest street on the island) to North Beach to the back door of the Whaling Museum.