Ross turned onto his side and pulled Kailee closer to him. “Nice everything.”

  “It looked like you especially enjoyed the party tonight.” What was she doing? She wanted to tape her mouth shut. “When you were getting to know Ann Sharpe.”

  Ross reared back sharply, shaking his head. “I wasn’t flirting.”

  “Good. Oh, Ross, I’m sorry. I know I get jealous,” Kailee said. “It’s a good thing you work with men all day.”

  Ross pulled her even closer. “Kailee, you know you never need to be jealous. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and sighed with contentment.

  * * *

  —

  The next afternoon, Heather drove up the narrow, bumpy, cobblestone lane to Lincoln Street. She found the right house—how could she miss it? It was a Cape Cod on steroids. A huge white clapboard building with lots of dormers and roses growing over everything. The long brick driveway was wide enough for two cars abreast, so she parked behind a large white Range Rover.

  For a moment she sat, reassuring herself. She’d met Stephanie Collins at coffee hour after church. Stephanie was probably fifty, a lean, weather-skinned woman with an athletic frame. She had a short, no-nonsense bob, piercing blue eyes, and a nose like a beak. She’d unashamedly grilled Heather, asking where she came from, why she was here, who she knew, chirping “I see,” after everything Heather said. When Heather mentioned she played bridge, Stephanie Collins finally smiled.

  “You’re just what I need,” she said, not bothering to ask Heather if she’d like to join her bridge club. That was assumed.

  Clearly, Stephanie was wealthy and active, born, she’d laughed, with a tennis racket in her hand. When Heather admitted she didn’t play tennis, she could see the disappointment in Stephanie’s eyes. Still, Heather could play bridge.

  She had agreed to come this afternoon, but now she felt uncomfortable. Heather had never gone to the Bahamas or skiing in the Alps, and stickers on the back of two other vehicles in the driveway indicated private boarding schools. Miribelle Hunter would be there, she remembered, so that made her more comfortable. And she had promised, and she didn’t want to leave Stephanie’s group without a fourth.

  She opened the car door and stepped out into the hot, humid day. The air was sweet with flowers, and the view from the cliff was a stunning, seemingly endless blue. And this was Stephanie’s summer home.

  Bracing herself, Heather marched to the front door and rang the doorbell.

  A young woman wearing a beige dress opened the door and ushered her into the large front hall. “This way, please,” she said.

  Heather followed her down a long hall to a screened-in porch at the back of the house. Two card tables were set up, and another table held lemonade, iced tea, and cookies. A cluster of women of varying ages were chattering away as they poured their drinks.

  “You’re here. Thank heavens!” Stephanie swooped down, wrapped a comradely arm around Heather’s shoulders, and announced, “Everyone! Introduce yourself to Heather Willette. She’s saving our bridge club!”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Heather joked.

  Laughing, the ladies came toward Heather, barely saying hello before Stephanie summoned them to their places. Miribelle remained at her table. She waved at Heather and gave an encouraging wink.

  “You’re my partner today,” Stephanie told Heather.

  “Good luck,” a younger woman with glasses told Heather. “Stephanie’s a beast.”

  Heather smiled nervously. She hadn’t played bridge in a while, but she did have a good head for numbers. And she had luck with her first hand, which she thanked heaven for because the women played with a deadly intensity. The room was quiet except for bidding and passes. At the far end of the porch, a standing fan blew the air around, its low hum the only friendly noise in the room.

  Stephanie and Heather took the first rubber.

  For the next set, everyone relaxed. They brought lemonade and cookies to the table on little flowered plates, and chatted as they sorted their cards.

  The conversation got interesting when Heather admitted that yes, she was the mother of Ross Willette, who was working for Essex Construction.

  “I’ve heard that he’s Kailee’s boyfriend,” Donna, a sharp-eyed blonde, said. “My son used to date Kailee in high school. She’s such a nice girl.”

  “That may be true,” Stephanie said, acid sharpening her tone, “but the Essexes aren’t as nice as they used to be. They’re selling out Nantucket.”

  “Replace paradise with a parking lot,” Peggy, to Heather’s right, said.

  Heather sorted through her cards intently, wondering how to respond. “I don’t think the Essexes own all of Nantucket,” she said mildly.

  Patrice, who sat on Heather’s left, agreed. “It’s not fair to blame the Essexes. They’ve been building houses on this island for decades. I know the homes are getting larger—”

  “They’re becoming castles,” Stephanie said.

  From the other table, a woman said, “Yes, and the owners live here for only a few weeks, and they have their own cooks, housekeepers, landscapers, chauffeurs. They’re putting nothing into the economy.”

  “Two hearts,” Stephanie said.

  Heather coughed. How could she concentrate on cards when her future daughter-in-law was being criticized? Just listen, she told herself.

  But the others didn’t want her to be silent. They wanted to mine for gold.

  “Do you know anything about this new house?” Donna asked Heather. “On the top of a hill overlooking the harbor? From the ferry, it looks like a hotel.”

  “No,” Heather told them. “I know nothing about the new house.”

  “But your son is working for Bob Essex, right?” a petite woman from the other table asked.

  “Yes, he is, but we don’t talk about business.” Anger heated Heather’s belly. Her hands were trembling, and that was embarrassing.

  “What’s Evelyn Essex really like?” inquired a thin older woman with a gleam in her eye. “Is she as difficult as we’ve heard?”

  Donna lowered her voice, as if in a conspiracy. “Evelyn looks so young,” she cooed. “Has she had any work done? Botox or plastic surgery?”

  Heather sat up straight and looked at Donna. “I’m sorry. I can’t say. I’ve only met her once. But her daughter, Kailee, is very nice and very smart.”

  “That family,” another woman at the other table said spitefully. “They’re a problem.”

  “Now, now,” Stephanie cooed, “let’s focus on our cards, shall we?”

  The tension in the room dissolved. Heather concentrated, but the other team won. She was exhausted when the party broke up, but she smiled and promised to return next week, even though she knew the others wanted to peck at her for all the information on the Essexes they could get.

  eight

  The rain was a quiet, steady rain, forecast to keep up into the evening. Heather had spent time in town, visiting the Whaling Museum, shopping for groceries, treating herself to a long luxurious browse through the library, deciding which mystery would be perfect for a day like this.

  She’d been here for three weeks now, and it surprised her how much she felt at home. Her lawyer back in Concord was preparing her divorce papers, and a friend of hers who was a realtor was handling the sale of the house.

  Sarah Martin, Heather’s lawyer, reported that Wall was fine with signing papers for a no-fault divorce, citing “irretrievable breakdown of the marriage,” which was legal in Massachusetts. Both Heather and Wall had to go before a judge to get approval of the separation agreement. After that, they had to wait thirty days for the “judgment nisi” to be issued, and wait ninety days for the judgment to become final. Then they would be legally divorced.

  Wall hadn’t called. Nor emailed. Heather wasn’t surprised. She was certain Wall knew in his heart that he and Heather had run out of love, as if they’d bought a package that was only half full. He was a handsome and intelligent man. She was sure he’d have women bringing him casseroles soon.

  She’d called Miles and told him she’d like to take the job.

  * * *

  —

  When she arrived home, she found Ross’s truck was parked in front of her cottage. She ran through the rain and into the house. Ross was lounging on the sofa, playing a game on his laptop.

  “Hey, Mom!”

  “Hi, darling.” Heather hung her raincoat on a hook and crossed the room to kiss the top of his head. “What’s up?”

  Ross clicked off his laptop, stood up, cleared his throat, and sat down again.

  “Oh, dear,” Heather said. “Is everything okay?”

  Ross said, all in a rush, “I want to ask Kailee to marry me.”

  “That’s wonderful, Ross. But I thought that was already decided.”

  “Yeah, but it wasn’t official, and I want to make it official. I want to set a date for the wedding, and I want to give Kailee a ring, and I was hoping…”

  Heather looked down at the small diamond on her hand. “Of course, you could have my engagement ring, but I think Kailee deserves better. And because of, um, my divorce, I’m afraid it would seem like a vague kind of bad luck. But I have your grandmother’s ring in a safe in our bank at home. I don’t know if you’ve seen it. It’s old-fashioned, but splendid. A ruby surrounded by diamonds.”

  “That sounds perfect, Mom. How soon can we get it?”

  Heather cocked her head. “Is there a rush? Is Kailee pregnant?”

  “No, Mom, God. It’s just that it’s hard, living apart from her. Besides, I’m ready for my life to start. I like the work. I like Kailee’s parents. And I want to make Kailee happy.” He blushed.

  “Sweetheart.” Heather fought back tears. She knew Ross would hate for her to go what he called all gooey. “Let’s make a plan to go up to Concord on Saturday, if you can get the day off. We can pick up some summer clothes and I’ll go to the bank. Kailee can come with us if she wants.”

  “Thanks, Mom! You’re a champion.” He started for the door and turned back. “I’ll ask Kailee to join us, but don’t tell her about the ring, okay? I want it to be a surprise.”

  * * *

  —

  Kailee wore a silk dress and gold lightship basket earrings and her long hair held back by a slender headband. It was the first ever meeting of her mother’s Essex Nature Foundation, and so far, eight people had joined, some, Kailee knew, because they cared about the environment, and some because they wanted to see Evelyn’s home and garden and were willing to donate good money to do so.

  The meeting was held in the conservatory, around a round wicker table where the Essexes often ate dinner in the summer. Evelyn had chaired the meeting and would continue to until the board decided on a president. Today, Kailee took notes.

  “One last item,” Evelyn said. “I think we should consider inviting Heather Willette to join.”

  Stephanie Collins said, “I like her. But she doesn’t live here year-round.”

  “No,” Evelyn agreed. “Her winter home is in Concord, Massachusetts. She serves on the Concord branch of the Safeguard Nature Society.”

  “Well, then, she’d be perfect for us,” Roy Sanders said.

  The others around the table agreed.

  When the meeting ended, Evelyn invited the group to tour her garden. Gravity, with a starched apron over her flowery summer dress, carried around a tray, offering iced tea or iced white wine. Evelyn walked through the low wintergreen boxwood hedges dividing the gardens, naming the flowers, explaining how her vision had shaped the garden.

  * * *

  —

  After the board members had left, Kailee was surprised to see Heather arrive.

  “Hi, Kailee. Your mother invited me to stop by to see her gardens.”

  “Oh. Right. She’s still outside.” Kailee led Heather through the house to the open French doors to the garden.

  Heather paused. “I’m driving up to Concord to sort through some clothes and belongings at the house. I’d like Ross to join me—it would be only a day trip—to choose whatever he wants to keep, and I thought you might want to choose a few keepsakes, too.” Heather added, smiling, “Since you’re going to be part of the family, you might want Ross’s grandmother’s quilts, that sort of thing.”

  “That’s so nice,” Kailee said. “Um, when are you going?”

  “This Saturday.” Heather rolled her eyes. “I know, everything is happening so fast. My lawyer said it’s a seller’s market these days, people are paying over the asking price for a house in the suburbs of Boston.”

  “It’s the same way here,” Kailee said, stalling. “I, um, I haven’t talked with Ross about all this, but I’m sure we won’t need crystal or china…no one uses them anymore.”

  “But you might like our silver,” Heather suggested. “It’s sterling, with the letter ‘W’ engraved in the handle. It belonged to Wall’s parents.”

  “Wow.” Kailee rocked back on her heels. “I haven’t even thought about all that. I mean, whether I’ll take Ross’s last name. I mean, Essex is an important name on this island. Historical.”

  “But if you have a child someday, and I hope you do, will you name him or her Essex-Willette?” Heather was still smiling.

  Kailee’s spine stiffened. “I think that’s something Ross and I will decide.”

  “Of course.” Heather frowned. “Anyway, think about joining Ross and me for the quick trip.” She slung her own laptop case over her shoulder. “I’m going out to enjoy your mother’s gardens.”

  “Thanks!” Kailee chirped, forcing a smile. As Heather walked away, Kailee picked up her laptop and purse and quickly made her way into the house and up the stairs to her room. She sat on her bed and stared at the wall.

  She knew she was being irrational. Wasn’t she? She and Ross hadn’t discussed the last-name thing yet, and as much as she wanted to be his wife, she also hated the thought of losing the name Essex. It had been Bartholomew Essex who arrived with a group of British to settle Nantucket Island. The town’s history was woven into her heritage.

  And it was true, things had changed. She was changing, but she hadn’t foreseen all the decisions she’d have to make.

  If only Heather hadn’t come here for the summer, casting her ownership of Ross like a shadow that would never fade.

  But! Kailee had such a brilliant idea she jumped up and raised her arms in a victory sign.

  What if Heather met a summer man, some nice divorced old guy who had a home in California or Texas. What if they fell in love—Heather was still attractive—and they married and lived in California or Texas. Wouldn’t that be wonderful for Heather?

  Kailee scurried back down the stairs, down the long hall leading to the conservatory, and out the French doors to the garden. She stood, smiling, gazing at the flowers, wondering if any men on the board were widowed.

  * * *

  —

  Saturday, Kailee sat in the backseat for the drive from Hyannis to Concord in Heather’s old Volvo station wagon. Ross had offered to sit in the back, but Kailee had protested.

  “Your legs are too long!” she’d said. “I’ll sit in the backseat.”

  And she had. Her tote, filled with cosmetics, money, a sweater in case it cooled off, and her phone, was on the floor near her feet. She considered checking her phone but didn’t want to seem rude, plus Ross was right here with her.

  Still, she’d felt grumpy and left out during the entire hour and a half drive. Was this her fate? To always make a stupid decision when it came to her and Ross and his mom? Kailee had never been so moody before. She felt cranky and uncomfortable and achy. Maybe she had a flu. She closed her eyes for a while, but that only made her feel carsick. Was she totally allergic to Ross’s mom?

  “Here we are,” Heather announced as she pulled into the driveway.

  Ross opened her door and helped her out, and Kailee stood there, amazed. The house was a three-story Victorian, with pristine white gingerbread woodwork adorning its wraparound porch. Two arched stained-glass windows ran down the sides of the massive beveled oak front door, and another more elaborate stained-glass window decorated one side of the house.

  “You grew up here?” Kailee asked.

  “He did,” Heather answered when Ross stayed quiet. “My grandmother left the house to me when she passed. It needed a lot of work, because she lived to ninety-nine and spent the last five years living on the first floor, and she couldn’t see how it was literally falling apart around her. Wall and I actually camped out in the library on the first floor while we renovated and repaired the other two floors. It was a labor of love. Come see.”

  Kailee kept a tight hold on Ross’s hand as they entered the house he grew up in. She thought her own home was so fabulous but this, this was breathtaking. The entrance hall was enormous, with an elegant staircase curving up to the second floor, and the entrances to the living room, library, and dining room were through wide, arched doorways. The mantels over the fireplaces were supported by elaborate, carved corbels, and in one room hung a huge oil portrait of a soldier in a blue wool army uniform with ruffled shirt front and cuffs, topped with a white wig.

  “Is that an ancestor?” Kailee asked breathlessly.

  “No, Kailee,” Heather admitted, chuckling. “I found it at an estate sale.”

  “We call him Percy,” Ross said.

  “I bought it for the frame, really,” Heather said, admiring the extravagantly carved and gilded wood.

  Kailee floated through the magical house, a home built from fairy tales, and when she saw the garden, she gasped. Beds of flowers bloomed everywhere and grass paths led between them to a small pond with a bridge arching over it. Nearby stood a wicker bench beneath the pale slender branches of a tall willow tree cascading down, swaying gently, their movement causing the water to shimmer.