Golden Girl(73)

“Not yet,” JP says. “I’ve been too busy at the Cone. But I’m taking a day off next week, I’ll do it then.”

Savannah brings the Waterford flutes out of the good china and crystal cabinet (which is a beaten and battered pie safe that Savannah’s mother believed might fool potential burglars) and pours each of them champagne. She raises her glass. “To Vivi, number two on the list, number one in our hearts.”

JP clinks Savannah’s glass and drinks. “I don’t know,” he says. “You’re putting a positive spin on this, but all I can think is that wherever Vivi is right now, she’s pissed off.”





Vivi




“Number two?” she says. “I died and I still came in second?”

“Satan’s Weekend sounds like the work of someone below,” Martha says, chuckling. “Way below.”

“Yes, Darla Kay Bolt,” Vivi says. “I knew her at Bread Loaf. She was my roommate!”

“What are the chances?” Martha says. “The two of you battling it out years later.”

“I’m glad you find this so entertaining,” Vivi says. “You do realize that was my last opportunity to make it to the top? I should have used one of my nudges.”

“I think we both know you didn’t want to get to number one that way,” Martha says.

Vivi silently concedes. She wanted to be first fair and square. Now that will never, ever happen.

“If there’s one thing you learn up here,” Martha says, “it’s never say never. In the past few years, I’ve seen things happen in the world, in our country, and in individual lives that I would have said simply weren’t possible. And I was proved wrong.”

“So you’re saying I can still get to number one?” Vivi says. “How? You have to do it in your first week. It just doesn’t happen otherwise.”

“Please, Vivian, stop with the hyperbole,” Martha says. “I don’t care for it.” She strokes the scarf trailing down her shoulder like it’s the tail of a beloved cat. “Just keep the faith.”





Willa




Brett Caspian arrives on Nantucket on the 10:30 ferry on Friday, July 23, and Willa, who has taken the day off work, is waiting to pick him up. He’s returning to Hyannis on the 2:15, so they will have just shy of four hours to visit. Four hours seemed like the right amount of time—Willa can’t believe she offered to let the man stay in her house; he’s a complete stranger, and if he ends up being a sociopath or a serial killer, she’s in trouble. She hasn’t told anyone that Brett Caspian is coming other than Rip, and he expressed less than no interest in the fact that Willa is meeting with an old friend of Vivi’s from high school.

“I hope he’s legit,” Rip said that morning as he wolfed down a banana slathered with peanut butter and Willa stared into her herbal tea, willing herself not to throw up at the smell. “If not, call 911, because I’ll be buried.”

Rip has ten claims on his desk, the most confounding of which is Marissa Lopresti’s Jeep. Marissa’s mother, Candace, wants to put the loss through insurance, even though there was no accident. Marissa drove the Jeep into the Bathtub out at Eel Point willfully because she was so upset about Leo breaking up with her the night before Vivi died. Rip can’t make that into an accident—he’s spent weeks trying to negotiate with the provider—but Candace is threatening to pull her business if he doesn’t. “The woman is such a…bully. She says she’s going to write a letter to the editor about our crappy customer service. How is it our fault that Marissa acted out a scene from Risky Business? And it was all pointless anyway! They were back together two weeks later.”

Willa pushes away her inevitable feelings of guilt. She should be paying closer attention to both Leo and Carson. She’s been keeping her distance from her brother and her sister and her father and Savannah because she doesn’t want them to know that she’s pregnant and she doesn’t want to tell them about Brett Caspian’s visit.

The pregnancy is her right to keep secret. But her visit with Brett Caspian feels a little clandestine. Willa wants to talk to him alone. He’ll be able to shed some light on what Vivi was like growing up—and, sorry, but Willa doesn’t want to share that with anyone.

Willa has no idea what Brett Caspian looks like and yet she picks him out right away. He descends the ramp of the Hy-Line carrying a backpack and a guitar case. He’s wearing a light denim shirt and darker jeans, a brown belt with a heavy silver buckle, and black high-top Chuck Taylors. If Carson were here, she would make a Justin Timberlake joke about the denim-on-denim look. Willa agrees it’s awful; Brett stands out among the day-trippers in their snappy polo shirts and bright sundresses. But there’s also a romantic aura about him. He drove all the way to Hyannis from Tennessee to visit the daughter of the girl he once loved.

Willa catches his eye and waves, and he comes striding over. He has longish dark hair peppered with gray and his face crinkles up when he smiles. Willa can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses but she knows instinctively that he’s the type that Vivi always found handsome. He is every bit the aging rebel—part James Dean, part Steven Tyler. This stands in stark contrast to the preppy, square-jawed look of Willa’s father, JP.