“What? No. I like working construction better than being in the store with my dad all day.”

  “I’ll bet you miss your mother.”

  “Actually, I don’t.” Ross paused, as if he had something else to say. “I mean, I love her, but I left home when I started college. I should call her or text her.”

  “Let’s take a selfie to send her!” Kailee pulled her phone from her pocket.

  “Good idea. Let me use my phone.” Ross bent down so his face would be level with Kailee’s.

  He snapped a few shots. They decided which was the best, and Ross texted, Hello from Nantucket! and sent it off.

  “We should go home,” Ross said. “I’ve got to get up early for work tomorrow.”

  They headed down Broad Street, holding hands. It was twilight, a gentle darkness falling around them. Lights winked on in shop windows and restaurants. They were together, Kailee thought. This was the way love went. Work, arguments…pleasure.

  Across the street at Bookworks, a woman stood gazing in the window. It was so weird—the woman looked just like Ross’s mother. Kailee started to tell Ross, but stopped herself. It couldn’t possibly be Ross’s mother. Heather would have called if she was on the island. Plus, it would be too weird if Ross’s mother came to the island, as if she missed him too much. As if she was sneakily checking up on her baby boy.

  “Ross?” She tugged his arm, forcing him to stop walking.

  “Why are you whispering?” he asked.

  “I think that’s your mother over there.” She nodded her head in the woman’s direction.

  Ross swallowed. “Yeah, it kind of looks like her.”

  Kailee went cold all over. “Ross. Is it your mother?”

  Ross sighed. “Probably.”

  “Probably? Do you know something I don’t know? Did your mother come to the island to see you?”

  Ross stalled. “Well, no.”

  “Well, what?”

  Ross took her arm and steered her back down toward Federal Street and across to the town building where there were benches. They sat down. Across the street, there was a long line of people waiting to get ice cream at the Juice Bar.

  “Kailee, I was waiting for the right time to tell you. Mom rented a cottage here on Nantucket.”

  “Oh my God! I don’t believe this!” Kailee reared back from Ross as if he’d suddenly grown two heads.

  “Kailee, wait. Let me explain. She rented the cottage before she knew I was going to be here all summer. It has nothing to do with us and everything to do with her divorce from Dad.”

  Kailee was furious. “And you’re only telling me this now? Is this some kind of secret between the two of you? How long has she been here? Since the first of the month, right? That’s when rentals start. Damn it, Ross, why didn’t you tell me before now? Did you think you could hide it from me?”

  “I was going to tell you, Kailee. I was just waiting for the right time. I’m sorry.”

  “God, Ross, don’t you see how this makes it seem like you’re closer to her than to me?” Kailee burst into tears.

  Ross stammered, searching for words. “That’s not how it is, Kailee. I love you. I want you to…like Mom, as much as I like your parents.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me?”

  Ross sat back, folded his arms over his chest, and stared up at the sky. “Because I thought you would freak out.”

  Kailee stared at Ross. She wanted to stomp off in righteous indignation, but more than that, she wanted to be with him. She’d seen her parents argue before, then make up and laugh, all within one hour. How did people learn to do that?

  She had to learn how to do that.

  She looked down at her hands, taking those supposedly helpful deep breaths, and thought. So, Heather had rented a cottage on the island before she knew her son was going to live here. So, okay. But Ross hadn’t told her. He’d kept a secret from her. But he was afraid of upsetting her.

  And here she was, upset.

  She loved Ross so much. She wanted to be with him all their lives.

  She put her hand gently on Ross’s arm. “Ross, you were right. I did freak out. I’m sorry I’m so jealous. I hope I didn’t ruin our evening.”

  Ross turned to Kailee. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now. I’ve only known for about a week, and we’ve been so busy. Look, I’m not going to spend time with my mother, I mean not a lot of time. I’m here with you. And she’s here to think about her future. She didn’t come here because of us.”

  Kailee nodded. “And there is an us.”

  “Don’t you ever doubt it,” Ross said. Leaning down, he kissed her softly on the mouth.

  “Let’s go home,” Kailee said.

  five

  “Look at all this!” Miribelle cried. “Can you believe it?”

  Heather was with Miribelle Hunter in the basement of Gardner Hall next to St. Paul’s Church on Fair Street. In the middle of the room, piled on long tables, were overflowing bags and boxes. At the far end, behind a long table, stood a dress rack, and at the other end, masses of books were piled. Another table ran down the side of the room, loaded with boxes marked miscellaneous.

  “Where do you want me to start?” Heather asked.

  “Sonia Ryder’s coming in later to deal with the miscellaneous. You can sort the books. Hardback fiction, paperback fiction, hardback nonfiction, soft cover nonfiction. Put them spineside up and fill a box as full as you can. I’ll start the clothes.”

  For a while, the two women worked in silence, concentrating on their sorting. Then Miribelle held up a lacy red bra and matching thong with the store tag still attached.

  “Could you wear these?” she asked Heather.

  “Not even when I was fifteen,” Heather answered.

  They both laughed, and began chatting in a sporadic, friendly way. Miribelle was a few years older than Heather, and had a retired husband who was addicted to golf, two daughters, and three grandchildren. Miribelle wore her red hair in a pixie cut, and her green eyes sparkled when she spoke about tennis. She was quick and athletic, with a wiry build, a cross between a hummingbird and a kingfisher. I’ve been looking at too many bird books, Heather thought, smiling to herself.

  A loud thump broke their concentration.

  “Honestly,” Miribelle said. She hurried to open the door. In came a man with an upright vintage steamer trunk in his arms. “Oh, my gosh,” Miribelle cried, “Mrs. Hewson finally gave in!”

  She directed the man to a corner where the trunk was out of the way. “Look, Heather, it still has its stickers on it, Wagon-Lit, the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express, the SS France.” She opened the doors to find a tidy set of drawers and a small rod for hanging shirts.

  Heather peered over Miribelle’s back. “That’s from a completely different age.”

  “You’re right,” the man said. “It’s totally useless, and Miribelle’s been coveting it for ages. I’ll bet you fifty dollars she’s going to buy it and not even put it in the fair.”

  “Stop it,” Miribelle said. Turning to Heather, she said, “This is my brother, Miles. He lives like a monk.”

  “Not exactly a monk,” Miles corrected her, grinning.

  “Oh, stop. Miles, be nice. This is Heather Willette. She’s on the island for the summer. She’s helping me with the fair. Heather, don’t believe a word he says.”

  “Hello, Heather.” Miles shook her hand. “Are you a new summer person?”

  “I am, yes.” Was that really true? Heather imagined that her cottage didn’t really fit in with the real summer person house.

  “I hope you have a great summer,” Miles said.

  Heather froze. Was that a twinkle in his eye? It was a twinkle in his eye. Was he flirting? Or was Heather delusional?

  “Stop that, Miles,” Miribelle said. “Is that everything?”

  “I’ve got a garden bench in my truck,” Miles said. “Miribelle, come help me carry it in.”

  The Hunter siblings went off, leaving Heather alone in the room. She stood at the table of books, pretending she was concentrating on them. Really, she was trying to stabilize herself, like someone who just parachuted from a plane. When Miles Hunter had walked into the room, the sight of him had made Heather’s heart thump, and when he spoke, his voice had made her weak at the knees. He looked like his sister, red-haired, wiry, energetic, and tall, wide-shouldered, with a kind of playful charm, like a red setter always ready to jump a fence and run.

  “All right,” Heather whispered to herself. “Calm down. You’re still married. Try a bit of self-control.”

  When Miribelle and her brother returned, Heather was using a felt marker to write mysteries on the side of a box.

  “Let me carry that for you,” Miles offered. “We always stack books in the corner.”

  “Oh, thanks.” Heather moved down to another box and wrote cookbooks on all sides while Miles closed the box, swiftly tucking the flaps beneath one another. For a moment, as his arm brushed her, she forgot how to spell cookbooks.

  She forced herself to concentrate. She began to cull through the books and separate out the travel books.

  “Can I help?” Miles asked, and without waiting for her to answer, he taped the bottom of a box firmly, turned it over, and took the books Heather handed him.

  Honestly, Heather thought, this man gives off some kind of animal aroma, like the spoor of a horse. Did horses give off spoors? She thought “spoor” applied only to wild animals. Was Miles a wild animal?

  She needed to sit down.

  “What’s this pile of books over here?” Miles asked.

  Heather blushed. “Oh, Miribelle said I could take books home to read and bring them back in time for the fair. We’ve got six weeks.”

  Miles lifted each book carefully, studying the cover. “You like mysteries,” Miles said. “Wow, and science, too. I read Underland. Robert Macfarlane is a brilliant writer.”

  “Good to know,” Heather said, glad she could even speak. “What do you like to read?” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, but continued sorting the books.

  “Thrillers. Jack Reacher. Well, he’s the character in Lee Child’s books—”

  “Oh, I know! Isn’t Alan Ritchson perfect for the television role? He’s so big and muscular—” Heather stopped. Trying to be always politically correct was such an effort these days. What if Miles had said that Scarlett Johansson had the perfect figure for the skin-tight suit in Black Widow?

  “I agree completely. Tom Cruise wasn’t right for the part,” Miles said.

  “Okay!” Miribelle came to the book table, dusting her hands as she walked. “Time for lunch. You’ve accomplished a lot, Heather. Thanks.”

  “It was fun.” Heather picked up her stash of five books. “I hope it rains tomorrow.”

  “Want to join us for lunch?” Miles asked.

  Before Heather could respond, Miribelle slugged his arm. “Not today, Miles. We’re meeting the Eastons at the club.” She turned to Heather. “Another time.”

  “Sure.” Heather smiled as she slid her tote over her shoulder and walked to the door. “Bye.” She waved and left the room, wondering if she was more relieved or disappointed not to be able to join Miribelle and Miles for lunch.

  * * *

  —

  “I think it’s really odd,” Kailee said. She was trying to keep her voice down even though they were in the apartment over the garage and she didn’t want to fight. Although, they were fighting. Now, Heather had texted Ross and asked him to mow her lawn.

  “Odd?” Ross shook his head. “What’s odd about it? Mom asked me to bring out a mower and mow her yard.” Ross had taken off his work boots and was putting on his sneakers.

  “Her yard?” Kailee threw her hands up in the air. “How do you not see that your mother followed you here? She’s living here so she can be near her baby boy.”

  Ross sighed. “Don’t be crazy. I told you she rented her place before she knew I was going to be here. She’s been here for over a week and she hasn’t called until now, and it’s perfectly reasonable for her to call me. Who else could she call?”

  “Exactly!” Kailee said. “She doesn’t have friends here. She’s only here because of you.”

  Ross tied his laces and stood up. “Kailee, please. You and I are living in your parents’ home. We see them every day. Mom just wants some help with her yard. It will take an hour or so.”

  “She should call her landlord.”

  “She did. He’s not picking up.” Ross put his hands on Kailee’s waist and pulled her to him. “Come with me.”

  “I’m not going to yank weeds for your mother.” Kailee pulled away.

  “I didn’t mean that. Just come. Say hello. Be nice.”

  “Be nice.” Kailee folded her arms over her chest. “You don’t think I’m nice?”

  Ross shook his head and walked away. “I’m out of here. I won’t be back in time for dinner.”

  Kailee followed Ross as he clomped down the stairs to the driveway. He got into his truck, waved at Kailee. She forced a smile and waved back. She knew her you don’t think I’m nice remark had been irrational. There had been times in their relationship when Ross would have responded with a grin and said, “I think you’re very nice,” and kissed her. But they’d moved on from the sweet passion of early love to the more difficult bog of a long-term relationship with reality.

  What was she afraid of? Maybe, that with the divorce, Heather expected Ross to be his mother’s emotional-support person.

  Still, Ross was right. She should go out there and be nice. After all, Heather was going to be her mother-in-law and Kailee would have to deal with her all of her life. Heather’s life.

  If she went out and said hello, Ross would be so happy.

  Kailee brushed her hair, redid her lipstick, found her car keys, and drove out to the rutted dirt road off Milestone Road.

  Ross had driven his blue Chevy pickup. It was parked in front of his mother’s yard. He’d taken the mower out and was standing in the door of the house, talking with his mom.

  Heather was pretty, Kailee had to admit that. Not beautiful or chic like Kailee’s mother, but attractive. The house Heather had rented was definitely not pretty. And really, the yard was a jungle.

  “Kailee!” Heather waved from the door.

  Ross turned and saw Kailee, and his smile was more than enough reward for her presence.

  “This place is so cute!” Kailee lied.

  “Come in and have some iced tea,” Heather said. “We’ll let Ross get to work.”

  Kailee’s heart thumped. You’re not the boss of Ross, she secretly argued, and immediately gave herself a mental slap for the childish thought.

  “Let me give you a tour,” Heather said, laughing. “It’s safe to say this is not the typical Nantucket summer cottage.”

  “It is small,” Kailee said, “but cozy. I love the quilt on the couch.” And the scented candles on the mantel, she thought, and the vase of real flowers, probably from Stop & Shop, but still colorful. Far from posh, but not pathetic.

  In the kitchen, Heather took out a pitcher and poured them each a glass of iced tea. Outside, the lawn mower roared as Ross worked.

  “I think the living room will be the quietest place,” Heather said, leading the way.

  “Wow! You have a lot of books.” Kailee sorted through them. “You have a wide range here, serious books and mysteries.”

  “I’m an addicted reader,” Heather said, settling into an armchair. “What do you like to read?”

  Kailee shrugged. “Really, I don’t know. Mostly stuff for college, you know. Plus, I’m not really a reader. Unless it’s spreadsheets, invoices, payroll. I work in my father’s headquarters. Also, I’m helping my mother start her foundation. I’m building the website for her.”

  “How wonderful. Tell me about the foundation.”

  Kailee leaned forward. “It’s the Essex Nature Foundation and it’s an offshoot of our construction company to show we care about the island. It will have three parts: fundraising, volunteer fieldwork, and education.” Kailee took a sip of iced tea. It was comfortable here, with windows open all over the house and fresh air filling the rooms. She slipped off her sandals and curled up on the sofa. “Do you mind?” she asked.

  Heather laughed. “Of course not. That’s how I often sit.”

  “I’m helping Mom prepare a letter to send out to about a dozen key people she wants on the board. You know, they say for people on benevolent boards, the three W’s are important: wealth, wisdom, and work. But really, wealth is what we need with the organization just starting out.”

  “I understand. I’m on the board of the Safeguard Nature Society,” Heather said. “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

  Kailee’s heart stopped a moment. She forced a smile. “Thanks, I will. But you’re only here for the summer, right?”

  “Right. Although, it’s so wonderful here.” She gazed at Kailee. “Have you ever dreamed of doing anything else?”

  Well, that’s insulting, Kailee thought.

  Heather sensed Kailee’s reaction. “I mean when you were a child. Ross always wanted to drive big trucks. From the time he was three, he was obsessed with them. Then he joined the middle school swim team and practiced like a maniac and his father and I knew Ross was hoping to go to the Olympics. He was brokenhearted when his school team lost in the state competition.”

  “Aw, poor Ross.” Kailee smiled, thinking about her lost dream. “I wanted to be a ballet dancer when I was really young. In middle school, I wanted to be an actress or a model. So did half of my friends.”

  “You would be a fabulous model,” Heather said.

  “Thanks. But somewhere along the way, I realized I wanted to stay on Nantucket. I really love it here.”