Winter Solstice (Winter #4)(40)

“They are,” Rachel says. “I didn’t mention it because I didn’t think his name would mean much to the Christys.”

“It wouldn’t,” Eddie says. It does, however, mean something to him. “Was Benton here a little while ago?”

Rachel shakes her head. “Not to my knowledge. I haven’t seen Benton since the party Tuesday night.”

“Oh,” Eddie says.

“Why do you ask?” Rachel says.

Eddie shakes his head. Benton wasn’t here. He was, likely, checking on one of his other estates out this way—if that was even Benton in the truck. And Grace was just out for a bike ride to get fresh air and exercise before winter descends.

Or is Eddie being naive?


Eddie and the Christys wave good-bye to Rachel—who hands Raja a white bakery box of cookies tied with ribbon—and they pile into the Cherokee.

“So,” Eddie says. “What did you think?”

Raja shocks Eddie by speaking first. “That house was something else.”

Something else: What does that mean? Eddie decides not to press. He can’t remember where they’re headed next. He checks his phone and remembers the text that came in while he was driving.

It’s from Addison Wheeler, canceling the other two houses.

Eddie blows out a stream of frustrated air. He gets the distinct feeling that nobody else in the world of Nantucket real estate is taking his buyers seriously. But Eddie takes them seriously.

“You can be honest with me,” Eddie says. “Did that feel like too much house? Could you see yourself living there? We do have other options, but I just got word from the listing broker that he’s no longer available to show us the other two houses today. So if you still want to look around, I suggest we plan a return trip for you. Maybe over Christmas Stroll weekend?”

“I’d like to put an offer in on the house we just saw,” Raja says.

Eddie’s heart sings.

“I want the inn,” Masha says.





MARGARET


She doesn’t begin the countdown until the final week. Five broadcasts left, then four, then three. She’s in denial, she supposes. Lee Kramer, head of the network, has been running around like Chicken Little since August 1, which was the day that Margaret announced she was retiring.

“But why?” Lee said. “Is it money? You’re already the highest-paid anchor in the business. You make as much as Rather did at the end.” He said this as if Margaret should be thanking him.

“Nothing to do with money,” Margaret said, although a part of her was curious to see how high she could get Lee to go. But no amount of money would make her change her mind. “I’m needed elsewhere.”

“You signed a noncompete!” Lee said.

“My kids needs me,” Margaret said. “Kelley’s cancer is back. He’s dying, Lee.”

Lee blinked. “That’s awful, Margaret. I like Kelley, hell of a guy.” Lee took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “But aren’t your kids grown?”

“My last day will be November tenth,” Margaret says. “Friday.”

“November tenth is only three months from now!” Lee said. “How can I possibly replace the most iconic news anchor the world has ever known in three short months?”

“Flattery won’t work, Lee,” Margaret said as she turned and walked out of the office.

“Does this have anything to do with politics?” Lee called after her.


Margaret’s retirement has nothing to do with politics or the polarization of America or the increasingly dire content of the news Margaret has to report. It has to do with Kelley. Their three kids are grown; they are independent, fully functioning adults. They don’t need their mother. But Kelley’s diagnosis—he’s terminal—has brought certain things into focus for Margaret. There is a long list of things she still wants to do. She wants to travel with Drake. She wants to visit her grandbabies. She wants to practice yoga, grow an herb garden; she wants to read.

For all of Margaret’s adult life, the news has been a drug. Her broadcasting career started small. She reported car accidents, fires, robberies, strikes. Her big “break”—and she is loath to call it that—came during her coverage on September 11. She was reporting on that tragic day for NY1, and something about her screen presence caught the attention of the executives at CBS. By the end of that unforgettable week, she had been offered a seat at the evening news desk, and a year later she was the sole anchor.

Since then Margaret has covered the war with Iraq, the death of Saddam Hussein, the tsunami in Southeast Asia, Hurricane Katrina, the election of not one but two new popes, the war against terror, the rise of ISIS, the election of Barack Obama, the legalization of gay marriage, the eradication of Osama bin Laden by U.S. Navy SEAL Team 6, and countless gun massacres—Sandy Hook Elementary, San Bernardino, and Aurora, Colorado. Margaret has announced the deaths of Robin Williams, Whitney Houston, Prince, Philip Seymour Hoffman, James Gandolfini, Heath Ledger, Carrie Fisher, David Bowie, and Michael Jackson. She has covered Darfur, Boko Haram, the war against Ukraine, the civil war in Syria, the earthquakes in Haiti and the Philippines.

Margaret has had a good run. She does her job faithfully to the very best of her ability each and every night. But now she’s both tired and energized: tired of being tethered to the news cycle, energized by the prospect of joining the civilian world.