“You ought to travel now, while you’re young,” Jade-Marie said. “Or you could live someplace like Boston. You’d have an IT job in a snap. Then you could take weekend trips to nearby cities like New York or Montreal. Or even to Nantucket.”

  “Or,” Liam said, “you could meet a new friend with a sailboat who could take you down the entire East Coast. Spend warm summer nights on the boat, sleeping under the stars.” He looked right at Penny as he spoke.

  Penny’s heart did a backflip. She was glad it was dark so no one could see her blush. She looked right back at Liam and said, “You make it sound so easy. I mean, leaving my home. My family would be hurt.”

  Jade-Marie chimed in. “Hey, they’ll have to get over it. You’re an adult. You have your own interests and talents. Your parents have three other children, right?”

  “Jade-Marie’s right. You’re lucky,” Jason said. “Your parents have other kids. I’m an only child, and my dad is so passionate about his research, he thinks it’s the single most important thing in the world. He almost hit me when I said I wanted to think about doing something different. We’re headed for a major argument after this week.”

  Jade-Marie said eagerly, “Because you want to stay on Nantucket for a while, right?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jason said, meeting her eyes. “This is the first day I’ve been here.”

  “I saw some of the island last year when I came with Dad,” Jade-Marie said. “That’s when I met you at the party at the yacht club, Liam. I didn’t have a chance to learn about your work.”

  “I work for my family’s company, Zephron. Our family is based in Florida, but we’ve got a house here,” Liam said. “I guess, over the years, I’ve seen a lot of the island.”

  “Will you show us around tomorrow?” Jade-Marie asked.

  “I’d like that,” Liam said, looking at Penny. “But now we should be heading back.”

  The group was quiet as they sailed into the harbor. Jade-Marie and Jason lay on the deck, gazing up at the stars. Penny sat with her elbows back on the rail, looking at the stars, and at Liam.

  When they were just inside the harbor, Penny said, “What is Zephron, Liam?”

  “It’s a company that makes wind turbines. My job’s involved with, no surprise, turbines in the ocean.”

  “That sounds awesome,” Jason said. “Good for you.”

  “Boring for me, actually. The paperwork is ridiculous. Our company has to have approval from the Bureau of Ocean Energy Management, which is part of the Department of the Interior. Right now, we’re trying to get approval to put up a wind farm twelve miles off Nantucket and twelve miles off the Vineyard.”

  Jade-Marie said, “Wow.”

  “We’ve got lots of resistance. Lots of hate. Fishermen say we’ll keep the fish away, birders say we’ll kill birds. And yet, it’s a source of green energy, and we need wind farms.”

  “Does that mean sometimes you’re in a suit and tie?” Penny asked, almost licking her lips.

  “It does. But I get away as often as possible. I sail by myself for a week or two. I go down to the Caribbean and crew on racing boats.” He paused and stared at Penny. “Now and then, I take a friend with me.”

  Penny said, “That must be so fun.”

  “It can be,” Liam told her.

  The boat slipped into the harbor. Liam found his mooring and dropped his painter over it, then took his phone from his pocket and signaled the launch. When it came, Jason helped the women step off Liam’s boat and onto the launch, and he followed.

  “Where are you sleeping?” Penny asked Liam.

  “On my boat, of course. I’ll be rocked like a baby in a cradle.” He gave Penny a daring look. “Want to join me?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t. I mean, my mother would be upset if she knew…” Penny took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “But maybe another night.”

  “I’ll count on it,” Liam said.

  They said their goodbyes and walked back to the hotel. Jason had a woman on each side. Penny was babbling about the warm night, the zillions of stars, the salty air, and she knew she was really talking so the other two wouldn’t tease her for liking Liam so quickly and completely.

  Jason and Jade-Marie weren’t thinking about Penny. They weren’t really thinking at all. They were touching. They were holding hands.

  five

  That Summer

  Sheila was well aware that her job as chambermaid at the Rose Hotel was less cool than Ariel’s as a receptionist at the real estate agency. After all, Sheila was scrubbing toilets, changing stained sheets, emptying overflowing waste baskets, and gathering up empty bottles, cans, and candy wrappers. But she was also smoothing fresh, sweetly scented sheets over beds with beveled walnut headboards carved with lovebirds and flowers. She was putting out fresh rose-shaped soaps and shampoos and clever small kits of sewing necessities. She was peeking, accidentally, of course, at what young women carried in their vanity bags. Joy or Chanel No. 5 perfume. Face cream, hand cream, body cream. Eyelash curlers, mascara, eyeliner, and expensive lipsticks in sunset colors that begged to be tried on…so she did try them on. They did wonders for her pale skin, and felt like silk on her mouth. She blotted her lips, carefully tucking the tissue into her apron pocket, before she left the room.

  Mrs. Reardon, the owner of the small hotel, could be fierce if Sheila did something wrong, but in general she was sweet, and occasionally daffy. The overabundance of roses in the curtains, carpets, vases, linens, and dishes was eye-popping and almost disturbing.

  “You do have a lot of roses around,” Sheila said during her second week, when she felt more comfortable with her older, plumper boss.

  “Ah, well, you see, I’m not as daft as I am clever,” Mrs. Reardon said. “No one ever forgets this place. You’ll hear newlyweds squealing with laughter over the rose shower curtains, and isn’t that lovely? I’ve given them something to make them smile and talk about in years to come. I don’t need a brochure.”

  It was happy people who came to stay at the Rose, and they were well-off and generous, too. They tipped lavishly, especially the newlyweds, so much so that after three weeks, Sheila took the ferry to Hyannis and bought herself a new dress and lipsticks at the mall.

  On Sundays and some especially alluring late afternoons, Sheila went out with her three friends to beach parties. The guys carried six-packs of beer in their bike panniers. Sheila and Ariel took crackers and cheese. Somewhere among the crowd was a table set up in the sand with a keg weighing down one end and Styrofoam buckets of ice holding beer and Cokes and a variety of snacks on paper plates. It was kind of what Sheila imagined heaven would be like, with all newcomers welcome, easily joining the group, swimming, flirting, laughing, and drinking. Often a guy with a guitar found a perch on a bit of driftwood and sang lusty sea shanties. People, girls mostly, danced to his music, swaying their hips, the sun turning their high-held beer bottles into glowing lanterns. Women wore short shorts and T-shirts, or a man’s unbuttoned shirt over a bikini, and lots of bangles jingling on tanned arms, long hair flying as they danced in the sea breeze. At the top of the dune, where the sand became a dirt road, piles of sneakers and flip-flops were abandoned. Everyone went barefoot in the sand, still warm from the summer day.

  During that magic season, there was sunlight until after nine o’clock, and soon the moon and stars flashed their reflections onto the sea, and someone set up a portable radio or CD player, and they milled around with one another, laughing and whooping like schoolchildren at recess. Some went off to sit on the beach and have long, confessional conversations. The dancing got personal. People paired up and kissed while they slow-danced. Often a woman would go home with a guy, and just as often a couple didn’t bother to leave the beach but walked down to the privacy of a convenient dune. Sheila had offers, but she refused. She had promised Hank she would stay true to him, and she had meant that when she said it. But Nantucket was so…seductive. As if desire were carried in the air.

  Tall, handsome Nick was always surrounded by swarms of girls. His pale skin was charmingly sunburned and he had one of those Hollywood smiles that made your heart stop just to see it. He never brought a woman back to the Sand Palace, but he often didn’t return home until morning, when he’d shower and dress for work. Sheila admitted to herself that she was slightly in awe of Nick, but that wasn’t the same as being in love. Sometimes he’d wrap an arm around her shoulders, pull her against him, kiss the top of her head, but they were only chums. Someone like him would never love someone like her.

  One sultry evening when the sticky heat of summer made Sheila’s shorts and tee cling to her, someone set up a boom box playing a soft rock station. A big, football-player kind of guy lumbered over to where Sheila stood chatting with some girls from the Midwest.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Sheila looked up at him. Cute. Maybe even sweet. His right eyebrow was sliced in the middle by a scar.

  “Hi,” Sheila said.

  “Are you Irish?” he asked. “I mean, red hair.”

  Sheila’s friends made cooing, chuckling noises like pigeons and watched, amused.

  “I’m not,” Sheila told him. “But my mother’s parents were from Ireland.”

  “I want to go there,” he said.

  “I’d like to do that, too.” Sheila held out her hand. “I’m Sheila.”

  He took her hand in his catcher’s mitt of a hand. “Robin.”

  Sheila grinned. “Robin?”

  “I know, right? Parents. I usually say Rob. But something about you.” He didn’t seem to like long sentences.

  “Where are you from, Rob?” It hurt Sheila’s neck to look up at him.

  “Pittsburgh. Let’s dance.” He pulled her against him, as Sheila glanced around, looking for somewhere to set her beer.

  “I’ve got it,” one of the Midwestern girls said, slipping the bottle from Sheila’s grasp.

  Rob wasn’t much of a dancer, and it was difficult on sand. Her head came to his chest. He pulled her closer. Sheila moved back, wanting to put some space between them, but his hand on her waist was as strong as an iron bar. She was locked against him as they swayed.

  “You’re pretty,” Rob said.

  “Thanks.” Sheila leaned her head back as far as she could, trying to see his face. “Rob, you’re kind of crushing me.”

  “Sorry,” Rob said, but he pressed himself tighter against her.

  He slid his hand down, forcing his pelvis against hers, and his erection strained between their soft cotton clothing. Sheila panicked enough to forget the languorousness of the summer evening as she began to try to figure out how to get away from him. On nights like this, the music never stopped, and Rob’s version of dancing was rubbing himself against her.

  “Rob, I’m not comfortable.” She tried to pull away.

  He kept her clasped to him.

  “Rob, let go or I’ll yell,” she said, loudly enough for others around them to notice, if they could hear anything above the music and the chatter.

  He held her tighter.

  I’ll knee him in the groin, Sheila thought. She’d never done that before, but the only other thing she could think to do was to scratch his face with her car keys—she’d learned that sometime in high school—but she didn’t have her car keys with her. She didn’t want to make a scene. They were in a crowd, so he couldn’t actually rape her, but the way he was rocking his pelvis against her was disgusting, and when she looked at his face and saw how glazed his eyes were, it was creepy, almost frightening.

  “Please, Rob, let me go,” Sheila said, more loudly.

  And then Nick was there, shoving Rob away from Sheila so hard all three of them stumbled in the sand.

  “She asked you to let her go,” Nick said.

  “Who the hell are you?” Rob yelled. “I don’t know you.” He tried to shove Nick aside.

  Sheila was aware a crowd had gathered around them to watch. She was secretly thrilled that two men were fighting because of her.

  “Get lost,” Nick said.

  “I’ll get you lost,” Rob said, and swung his hand.

  All Nick had to do was to step back. Rob fell over, facedown, in the sand.

  People laughed. Nick took Sheila’s hand. “Come on.” He pulled her away from Rob, who was struggling to rise.

  “Thank you, Nick,” Sheila said, both pleased and embarrassed.

  “No problem,” Nick replied. “The guy’s an asshole. Stay away from him.” He stopped at the edge of the crowd and looked down at Sheila. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Girls surrounded Sheila, asking if she was okay, and Sheila knew what they really wanted to know was who Nick was. Nick wandered away toward the beer table.

  “Is that your brother?” one girl asked hopefully.

  “Yeah, kind of,” Sheila said. She never could understand why Nick rescued her. He hardly noticed her when they were at the Sand Palace. He never tried to kiss her or even joke with her about being alone together. She knew he wasn’t romantically interested in her, but at least they were becoming friends, and she’d never really had a man friend before.

  * * *

  —

  Sometimes, Ariel or Nick would be invited by someone they worked with at the real estate agency or Fanshaw’s to a party at a summer person’s house and all four of them would go. Maybe they’d have to listen to a brief fundraising speech, but the food and wine were always what Nick called top-notch. If they were lucky, it rained, and then the party was in the house. Sheila got to gaze at fine oil paintings, weird sculptures, furniture covered in silk, tables covered in silver-framed pictures of laughing families on the beach, or on their yacht, or the tennis court. Almost always, the guests at these parties were older and gave Sheila and the others a fake dismissive smile as they sauntered past. Sheila didn’t mind. She felt as if she were in an extremely exclusive museum, at a onetime-only showing.

  Once Wyatt approached her when they were in someone’s game room. Ping-pong table, pool table, a table set with marble chess pieces, a sofa in front of a screen with video games.

  Sheila was leaning against the pool table, sipping her cocktail.

  “What do you think?” Wyatt asked.

  “I have no words,” Sheila said.

  “And they’re here only two weeks of the year.”

  “I can’t imagine living in a place like this.”

  “You never know,” Wyatt said. “You’re pretty. You could snag a rich guy.”

  “Snag a rich guy? Because I’m pretty? Wow, thanks for such a charming thought!” Sheila’s face flamed.

  She started to walk off, but Wyatt caught her arm. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  Sheila yanked her arm away and walked down a hallway until she found a bathroom. She went inside, locked the door, and sat on the edge of the bathtub. Pulling a pristine white washcloth off the rack, she held it against her face, ashamed. Maybe Wyatt didn’t mean to insult her, but he did.

  Someone knocked on the door. Sheila held her breath.

  “Sheila? It’s Ariel. Let me in.”

  Oh, no. Ariel had seen Sheila walk away, biting her lips to keep from crying. Sheila knew that if she didn’t let Ariel in, the whole insulting scene would seem even worse than it was. When she rose and opened the door, Ariel quickly entered, shutting it immediately. They sat side by side on the edge of the tub.

  “Wyatt told me he was a jerk.”

  “Wyatt told you?” Sheila’s heart plummeted. How humiliating that he and Ariel had talked about her.

  “Sheila, get over yourself. Guys are idiots. I’m surprised he didn’t say you’d catch a guy because you have big boobs.”

  “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” Sheila said scornfully.

  Ariel took a moment. “It’s easier because I don’t have big boobs, I guess. I wish I did.”

  Sheila was shocked. She didn’t think Ariel was teasing her. “I can’t believe you’d wish for anything but to be yourself.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Ariel replied softly.

  “What?” Sheila was curious. “What could you possibly want?”

  “Truthfully? I’d like to be a writer, but there are so many good writers out there, it’s nearly impossible to get published.” She looked down at her hands. “Anyway, that’s me. What do you want to be?”

  “Just something normal,” Sheila said. “A wife. A mother. I’ll marry Hank. We’ll have a nice house and several kids.”

  “Really.” Ariel slid down to the floor, facing Sheila. “That’s all you want for your entire life? Don’t you want some excitement, some crazy fling, something special, just this summer?”

  Sheila couldn’t meet Ariel’s eyes when she admitted softly, “I don’t want to lose Hank. He’s all I have.”

  “Sheila! Don’t be such a coward. You don’t have to tell Hank or anyone what you do this summer. This is your life. Probably the only time you have left to be wild, to make some delicious memories for the rest of your life.”

  “I suppose…” Sheila bit the end of a fingernail. Someone like Ariel couldn’t understand.

  At that moment, a guy pounded on the door. “What are you doing in there, making out?”

  Ariel rolled her eyes. “Hang on!” She stood, held out her hand, and pulled Sheila up. “You know, Sheila, you have gorgeous eyes. You need to use mascara and eyeliner. And your lipstick is the wrong color for you. We’ll experiment the next rainy day.”

  “That’s so nice of you,” Sheila said.

  Ariel kept hold of Sheila’s hand. “Listen, I need you to know. I was jealous when I saw Wyatt talking to you at the pool table.”

  Sheila was astonished. “Jealous of me?”

  “I really like Wyatt. I mean I really like him.”