Kailee allowed herself to become wooden, capable of nodding her head like a puppet, while inside she was hollow.

  Her father returned. Kailee went to him and hugged him, but she could tell he was exhausted beyond words, beyond feelings, just as she was.

  A doctor gave her a pill to take at night so that she would sleep. She showered, she dressed, she sat on her bed staring at the wall. She wept. She held a pillow to her mouth and screamed.

  * * *

  —

  The funeral took place four days later. It was a beautiful summer day.

  The church was packed, because Evelyn had been a true islander, even in discord, belonging to them.

  The reception was held at the Jared Coffin House, an elegant brick mansion at the end of Centre Street. Flowers bloomed on each table and mantel in massively gorgeous arrangements. The liquor flowed like the ocean during flood tide. The mourners were respectfully somber, until they’d enjoyed a drink or two, and then they smiled and softly laughed.

  Heather passed among them, a stranger to most of them, hearing the women discuss Evelyn, how beautiful she’d been, how devoted to the island, how fortunate it was Kailee had Ross by her side…and now poor Bob would be alone.

  * * *

  —

  Every now and then, Ross would cut through the crowd to find his mother, to ask how she was. She was fine, of course, she was fine.

  When the crowd thinned out, Heather discreetly took her leave. She was aware that her presence was no consolation to Kailee. Her presence was little consolation to herself at this moment. Without Evelyn, Heather’s work on ENF was ended. She knew she was too exhausted to read. She stopped at Marine Home Center and bought herself a flat-screen television. She paid the deliveryman to bring it to the cottage and set it up on the card table she pulled in front of the fireplace, facing the couch. It made the room look awkward, no feng shui here. But Heather sank down on her sofa, put her feet up on the coffee table, and watched endless episodes of British mysteries and instructional videos on painting or cooking, which provided a soft, gentle blur for her mind.

  She slept on the sofa all night, the television on mute, its tableaux providing a kind of ghostly accompaniment.

  In the morning, she showered. She was drinking coffee when her phone rang.

  “Heather, it’s Christine. How are you?”

  “I’m stunned,” Heather said. “So many changes in such a short period of time. This year has been—”

  Christine interrupted. “I’ve got more possible changes in store for you. The owner of the cottage wants to sell it. Now. The asking price is ridiculously low, because he wants it done and over.”

  “Christine, I can’t afford a house on Nantucket,” Heather said. Sugar was at her feet, waving her butt hard, so she opened the door, let her out, and watched her run to the bushes at the end of the yard.

  “I know what you’re getting for selling your Concord house,” Christine said. “I think you can do this. If you want to. I mean, you seem to be quite at home on that island, but you might find the winters hard to tolerate.”

  Christine named a price so low that Heather was shocked.

  It seemed like a direct message from Fate. She could do it. She could buy this small, funky cottage outright. It would need many renovations and improvements, and it was isolated, and so completely different from her beautiful expansive Victorian mansion in Concord. Not a touch of gingerbread anywhere.

  “I’ll do it,” Heather said, her voice shaking. “Christine, now my heart is racing. But I want this. And I can do this. Will you help me with the legal bits?”

  She could hear the smile in Christine’s voice. “Absolutely.”

  * * *

  —

  A week passed after Evelyn’s death. After Kailee’s mother’s death.

  One day, Kailee woke to the thought that she had to have some of her mother’s traits within her. And her mother would get on with things even during grief. Why hadn’t Kailee realized this before? Her mother was in her. Her mother was with her.

  Kailee ached, but she tried to do what was necessary. She worried about her father. He had gone through the necessary tasks like a sleepwalker. He’d made it through the funeral stoically, without weeping, nodding robotically to the mourners who expressed their condolences. The rest of the time, he stayed in his home office, with the door shut. When Kailee knocked and entered, she’d find him sitting there, head resting on the back of his leather desk chair, staring into space like a man lost in the world and too exhausted to go on. He didn’t emerge for meals, or to watch baseball or the news on television. He didn’t go outside.

  The owner of the house Essex Construction was building called every day from New York, wanting a progress report. He had no idea who Evelyn Essex had been, plus he didn’t care. Also, the crew needed to work, and Kailee, speaking for her father, told them to go ahead.

  Gravity came regularly, preparing meals they could microwave anytime, dealing with the flowers that were sent even though the family had requested that in lieu of flowers, a donation to ENF would be appreciated. She managed to persuade Bob to drink some water and eat some eggs and toast every morning, but she left him alone for the rest of the day.

  “He’ll be okay, darling,” Gravity told Kailee. “We all grieve in our own way. He needs to be alone.”

  Kailee needed to be with Ross. She wept in his arms for hours, remembering all the mean things she’d said to her mother when she was a teenager and all the wonderful times she’d spent with her mother when she was a child.

  “I don’t know how to go on,” Kailee said. “I don’t know how any of us will go on.”

  “We’ll find a way,” Ross promised. He was with Kailee every moment of the day and night, listening to her long meandering remembrances, reassuring her, reminding her that he loved her.

  “You’re so lucky you have your mother,” Kailee cried one afternoon.

  Ross said, “I’m so lucky I have you.”

  Kailee wept harder, grateful and happy and sad and in love and in grief all at the same time.

  Ten days after her mother died, her father appeared in the kitchen where Kailee and Ross sat eating dinner.

  Kailee jumped up. “Hi, Dad. Want some fish and chips?”

  Her father shook his head. “No. Thanks. We’re going to see Sheldon Armstrong tomorrow. We have to hear the reading of the will.”

  “Mom made a will?” Kailee asked. “When she was so young?”

  “I have a will, too,” her father said. “We both made wills when you were born.”

  * * *

  —

  It didn’t seem right to wear a sleeveless summer dress to the lawyer’s office for the reading of the will. Kailee had black silk trousers and a navy-blue silk sweater. That would have to do. At the last minute, she put on the string of pearls her grandmother had given her years ago.

  She walked down the stairs slowly. She found her father sitting in the living room, wearing a dark gray suit, a navy-blue tie, and his wing-tip shoes. He was handsome, but he’d lost weight, so his face was lined and his clothes loose around him. He did not seem to notice Kailee’s presence.

  Kailee sat across from him, leaned toward him, and put her hand on his knee.

  “Dad.”

  Bob looked up.

  Kailee said, “It’s time to go.”

  Bob rose. “Yes. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  —

  When she walked into the lawyer’s office with her father, she realized once again how small their family was. Her mother’s parents had died a few years ago. Evelyn’s brother, Jim, had died in Afghanistan. Kailee’s aunt Kimberly, her husband, Ron, and their children lived on the Pacific coast. Kimberly had moved across the country years ago and never returned, not even for a brief visit.

  Sheldon Armstrong, Esq., rose from behind his desk when his secretary showed them in. He was a tall, lean, handsome man who often played golf with Kailee’s father. Today he wore a three-piece suit and tie. Kailee was glad the air-conditioning was on for his sake as well as hers.

  “Bob,” Sheldon said, extending his hand. “Kailee. This is a sad time.”

  They shook hands. Kailee and her father sat in the chairs facing Sheldon’s desk. Sheldon was going to read her mother’s will and Kailee’s stomach cramped at the thought. She had taken a mild anti-anxiety pill the doctor prescribed, but anxiety was not her problem. Grief was her problem and there was no pill for that.

  “You might not know that last month, after her first heart attack, Evelyn came to visit me to talk about her will. She gave me a letter she wanted me to read to you first.”

  “Last month?” Bob queried. “That’s odd. She didn’t tell me she’d been to see you.”

  “Evelyn made a slight change in her will. I’ll read it now.”

  Sheldon put on wire-rimmed glasses and sat up straight as he read the letter.

  “My darling Kailee and Bob,

  I love you both so very much, and I love Ross, as well. I’m proud to be part of Essex Construction, and I hope Kailee and Ross will join Bob to keep it going strong.

  But I am a Nantucket native, and I love this island, too, with a fierce and lasting love. When I was a girl, I roamed every possible inch of Nantucket. I swam off every beach, I hiked through every cranberry bog, moor, forest, meadow, and dune. I knew every street and road and house.

  How things have changed. I’m aware of the weakening of my heart. It does not frighten me. I know I have been privileged to live on such an unusual spot on the earth, here in the vast mysterious ocean. The ocean and this island are not only for human beings. This island belongs to itself. It is also a living creature.

  I won’t elaborate. You both know how much I hoped to curtail the encroachment on nature by buildings and billionaires. That’s why I created the Essex Nature Foundation. And that is why I am asking Heather Willette to be the director. To that end, I have set aside a special trust to provide a salary for her work and her business and publicity necessities. I’ve included in the letter to her an outline of how I think the foundation should work.

  I hope I’ll live many years into the future. I hope I’ll be able to help ENF grow. But my heart, so full of love for both of you and for this island, lives within my body, and it is signaling me that it is very tired.

  I’m not afraid of dying. I’m grateful to have had my life. I hope you will have lives as happy as mine has been.

  Love,

  Your wife, Evelyn

  Your mother, Evelyn”

  Kailee sat frozen. Stunned. She’d had no idea that her mother had been aware of her weakening heart. She couldn’t understand why she hadn’t spoken to her father or her about it. Her mother could have had open-heart surgery, a heart transplant, or they all could have found a way to calm her mother’s life.

  “How could Mom do this?” she whispered, torn between anger and a crushing sense of failure.

  Kailee’s father said, “Kailee, we will have more than enough money to live on, and you have money from your grandmother’s trust that will come to you when you are twenty-five. I’m glad your mother wants ENF to continue, and I’m glad she considers Heather suitable for the job.”

  It was as if her father had slapped her. “Dad, I didn’t mean money! I meant why didn’t she tell us about her heart? Why did she keep it a secret when we could have helped her? She didn’t have to die!” Kailee realized she’d raised her voice almost to a scream, and she hated herself for that, for not being composed in front of the lawyer, for being thought of as the kind of daughter who would be concerned about how much money she was getting. “I’m sorry,” she said in a softer voice. “But I don’t understand why she didn’t tell us.”

  Sheldon Armstrong waited a few beats, then said, “Would you like Laura to bring you a glass of water?”

  “No, thank you,” Kailee said.

  “Kailee,” the lawyer said, “your mother left me with a sealed letter for you, and one for you, Bob. Also, she told me, in confidence, that if she had to live as an invalid, she wouldn’t want to live. Your mother was an active woman, I know.” He cleared his throat. “Now. For the rest of the will.”

  Kailee sat listening to Sheldon Armstrong drone on and on while she forced herself to take deep breaths. To appear serene.

  And as she did, she sensed her mother’s presence, like the sigh of a wave, or the faint call of a mourning dove, or the whisper of the sand as it slipped through her fingers.

  The knowledge of her mother’s love was all around her, as if Kailee were the island and her mother the ocean. She understood why her mother had named Heather to head ENF instead of Kailee, because Kailee had always wanted to work for her father, to run the business.

  She wished her mother could have lived long enough to see her grandchild born, but maybe, somehow, after all, she would know.

  The lawyer’s phone buzzed, breaking into her thoughts.

  “Yes,” Sheldon Armstrong said. “Send him in.”

  Who would barge in on a private reading of a will, Kailee wondered, surprised.

  Ross came into the room. He wore a jacket and tie and his good shoes. He was nervous.

  To Kailee’s surprise, her father rose and shook Ross’s hand. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Of course,” Ross said. He flashed a look at Kailee that told her Ross had no idea why he was invited to this meeting.

  Kailee’s father indicated that Ross should sit in the chair next to Kailee’s. He adjusted his own chair so that he was facing them.

  “So.” Bob put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. For a moment, he stalled, dipping his head down to hide his face. He recovered, sat straight, and said, “I’ve been thinking a lot over the past week. I’ve made some decisions. I’m going to continue as president of Essex Construction. You, Kailee, are now my VP in charge of accounts and technology, and you, Ross, are my VP in charge of construction. I have spoken with both George March and Dean about these plans.”

  Kailee was speechless, but Ross nodded and said, “Understood.”

  “Also,” Bob continued, and his voice was choked with emotion, “the first task that you have, Kailee, is to join USGBC. U.S. Green Building Council. Their mission is to advance green building for a more stable environment. This organization is exactly what I think Evelyn would want us to join.”

  “This sounds like such a good idea, Dad.” Kailee tried to hold back tears.

  Bob held up his hand. “There’s more. Kailee, I want you to work with Heather in distributing Evelyn’s plants. Not only the ones in her conservatory, but all the plants in her garden. I’m hoping we all can buy a plot of land and move the plants there. Make a garden.” He choked up, cleared his throat, continued. “A garden in your mother’s name, free for anyone to visit.”

  Kailee said, “What a wonderful idea.” She reached for Ross’s hand, and he took it, he held her cold hand in his large, warm, reliable hand. She was weeping, quietly, and she had never loved her father more.

  twenty-five

  After Evelyn’s death, Heather decided to keep to herself. She took Sugar on long walks on the beach, she read and watched TV, although she was watching more television than ever before because it required so little effort. She knew Ross was very much occupied with helping Kailee and Bob, so she didn’t tell him about the opportunity she had to buy the cottage.

  She wanted to buy the cottage. It suited her. It matched her in some way. It was simple rather than complicated, obviously plain and practical rather than designed and ornamented, enclosed by the unruly forest rather than showing off its beautiful gingerbread curlicues. It was her refuge.

  But she worried that Kailee would be unhappy with Heather living permanently on-island. She understood the ambivalence the young woman had about her because Wall’s parents had been difficult, demanding. In her later life, Wall’s mother, Estelle, had developed debilitating arthritis, and while Wall was in his store and Ross at high school and later college, Heather had been the one who helped Estelle with her many chores and errands. Estelle always said, “Thank you,” but in such a tone of voice it was clear that she meant, You are fortunate to be serving me, you lowly peasant.

  Heather’s own parents had been obsessed with traveling. Their means of connection after Heather married was a succession of postcards from various countries, even after everyone used iPhones and email. Heather suspected they communicated that way so that Heather couldn’t track them down to ask them for something. They had been good parents, loving parents, but when Heather married Wall—who her parents liked—their interest in Heather and their support of her stopped, as if Heather’s warranty had run out.

  Heather understood. She’d never been baby-crazy. If she had been, she would have tried harder to have another child, or she would have adopted, or helped in a day care center. The older she got, the more privacy she needed. The older she got, the more she valued sitting on the porch, watching the light change as the sun moved.

  Maybe she was turning into a lizard.

  Nine days after the funeral, she was surprised by a call from Bob Essex, asking her to join them at the Pleasant Street house to discuss some matters that might be of interest to her.

  By then, it was the last week of July. The island was still congested with Range Rovers, Mercedes SUVs, the Wave town bus, UPS, USPS, FedEx, and Cape Cod Express, not to mention what seemed like several thousand people biking blithely, carelessly, around the town, darting in front of cars as if the cars were invisible, and pedestrians were still around, too, looking down at their phones as they strolled in front of traffic, as if they considered themselves something beautiful for everyone else to see, rather like Heather’s former mother-in-law.