Surfside Sisters(47)
And she was heartbroken that Tommy had Isabelle. That was the loss that struck most deeply.
Isabelle was still talking. “I hope you can forgive me someday, Keely. You know I thought deeply about this. You and I always meant to be brave and strong, choosing what we love, doing what is right for us, and the hell with what other people think. You always knew I would choose Tommy and I have. I know about you, too. I know you want to be a writer more than you want anything else, certainly more than you want to be with Tommy. So all I can say is that if we hurt you, I’m sorry.” Isabelle’s voice changed again, and Keely could clearly hear how Isabelle was grinning. “Sorry, not sorry, as they say.”
Isabelle’s smugness infuriated Keely. “Got it. Well, I’m done. Goodbye, Isabelle.”
Keely collapsed on her bed and curled up in a fetal ball. This must be what people feel like when they’re shot, she thought. It was like a hurricane, a lightning bolt. In a matter of minutes, everything in her life had changed.
She wanted to talk with her mother. Instead, she opened her laptop and went to Isabelle’s page on Facebook. She had already added a post announcing triumphantly that she and Tommy were back together and as soon as they got back to the island, they’d look for an engagement ring. She’d posted a selfie, too. Tommy was there, shoulders straight, his smile bright enough to light a firecracker. Isabelle looked completely blissed out with her arms around him.
Keely’s thoughts jangled. Her heart skipped a few beats. She tried to sort through her emotions.
To be completely true to herself, Keely had to admit that she wasn’t absolutely heartbroken by Tommy’s desertion. And she understood Isabelle’s actions. But it stung. It felt wrong, unfair.
And it seemed like one more barrier between her and Isabelle. It was an error, a jagged break between them. As girls, she and Isabelle had dreamed of their weddings. They’d planned to be each other’s maid of honor. As things were now, whenever Isabelle and Tommy got married, Keely wouldn’t even be a bridesmaid. She might not even be invited!
* * *
—
Isabelle and Tommy got back to the island the same day the weekly issue of the town newspaper came out. Keely read it as she sat on the sofa in the late afternoon. Under the heading MARRIAGE INTENTIONS was a write-up of Isabelle and Tommy’s engagement with another spectacular photo.
“Mom,” Keely said, “I feel like I’m going mad.”
“I don’t blame you one bit,” Eloise said. “This is a turbulent time for you.” She sat on the sofa next to Keely and hugged her tightly. “You’ve been in spots like this before. When you had to quit college your junior year and come home to help me. When Isabelle got sent to that writers’ colony…remember your distress? But you sucked it up and moved on and now look at you. You wrote a novel. You sold it! You paid off your ancient mother’s mortgage. You have a wonderful life ahead of you.”
Keely sniffed. “Thanks, Mom. You’re right. I know that. I just don’t know what to do. I wanted to throw a big party to celebrate my book contract. But Isabelle’s parents are throwing a huge engagement announcement party at the White Elephant for Isabelle and Tommy. I can’t compete with that, and I don’t want to try.”
“Why don’t you do what you always do when you’re upset?” Eloise asked.
“What’s that?”
“Go in your room and work on a novel.”
Keely burst out laughing. She dried her tears. She went into her room. She wrote.
* * *
—
Working on her second book, Poor Girl, kept her sane. She rearranged her room to make more space for her piles of paper and discarded pages and Post-it notes. She went for a long run every morning, wrote for most of the day, and collapsed with a book in the evening. Autumn arrived, with cooler, dryer air, and puffy clouds rolling across the sky. Keely took her mother with her for several days to New York when Keely had her author photo taken. Juan sent her the edited manuscript of Rich Girl, and as Keely read it, she was relieved and grateful for the opportunity to change and improve the book. Write what you know, everyone said. She had done that, using the emotions from her life to sharpen her writing.
She thought of Isabelle every day. She considered calling Isabelle, but decided Isabelle should call her. After all, Keely hadn’t done anything wrong by having a book accepted for publication. Keely thought—hoped—they’d run into each other in the grocery store or the library, but that didn’t happen.
Keely stalked her on Facebook, where Isabelle posted daily some adorable photo of her and Tommy. Apparently Isabelle was busy decorating their apartment, too busy to call Keely, or to text, or to send an email congratulating Keely on her book contract. Just as Keely was too busy to send an email congratulating Isabelle on her engagement.
But she missed Isabelle so much. Janine told her that she’d gotten an invitation card. Isabelle and Tommy would be married on December 2. Keely didn’t get one.
Christmas came. Isabelle posted on Facebook a picture of a new Sea Hunt fishing boat tied up to the pier in Madaket. The caption read, “Thanks, Dad!” The boat had to cost over fifty thousand dollars. Tommy had christened it Isabelle. In the photo, Tommy was at the console of the boat, and Isabelle stood behind him, arms around him, head resting against his broad back, smiling like a child on Christmas.