Nantucket Gala (A Nantucket Sunset #12)

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

June 1985

Nantucket Island

I t was the morning before the Nantucket Gala, and Sophia was taking her sweet time. Francis had left early, something about a jog and a meeting with another cinematographer. It seemed Francis was always meeting with cinematographers, script supervisors, or costume department heads. But Sophia felt as though she floated on cloud nine. Nothing could bother her. At ten that morning, a knock on the door brought in a breakfast feast: a beautiful omelet, a crepe with Nutella, and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. When they’d asked if she wanted champagne with her juice, she’d declined. Never in her life had she refused that. But everything was different now.

Now, with breakfast displayed before her in bed and her head swimming with excitement, Sophia leaned over, grabbed the phone from the bedside table, and called The Copperfield House. The minute Greta answered, Sophia regretted the call. From the other end came the sounds of children crying.

“Darling, good morning! How are you?” Greta sounded strained, like she was juggling too many things at once.

“I’m just fine. Better than fine. In fact, I would love to see you today before the gala if you have time.”

Greta hesitated. Sophia tried to make out which of those beautiful Copperfield children was crying.

“I’m sorry about that,” Greta said. “Quentin woke up really sick, and Alana can’t stand it when I give him more attention than her.” Greta said this slightly softer than everything else. Sophia guessed she’d escaped into another room. The sound of a door opening and closing was proof of that. “But sure! I’d love to see you today. This afternoon, maybe? Oh, but you’ll have to come here. I can’t leave until the babysitter gets here. Hopefully, that’ll be around seven. Maybe eight.”

Sophia fixed her smile. “I’ll come to you, Greta. Of course I will.”

Sophia finished her breakfast, got out of bed, and changed into a beautiful white sundress—the sort of thing she’d worn on her honeymoon. She felt youthful and athletic and alive, so wonderfully alive. Just before she left, she twisted in the mirror and tried to make out a change at her waist. But she looked the same as ever.

It’ll happen soon enough , she reminded herself.

In the hotel’s foyer, Sophia was surprised to find her husband having a coffee with another director, one who’d come to Nantucket for the gala. Francis popped up and kissed Sophia on the cheek. Sophia thought she might melt with love.

She considered what would happen if she told him right now.

Without hesitating, if she said My darling, I’m pregnant .

But she wasn’t ready to tell him. Not before the gala. She didn’t want to make him nervous. She didn’t want to distract him from the mission at hand—to generate enough funds for the film.

A Brutal Horizon was just as much their baby as the little one she was growing.

“Where are you off to so quickly?” Francis asked.

Sophia blushed and twirled her curly hair. “I’m going to meet Greta.”

“I hope she won’t have all those kids with her?” Francis asked.

Sophia’s stomach twisted. “They’re wonderful children, aren’t they, Francis?”

“Sure. There are just so many of them,” he said.

It was Sophia’s turn to be an actress. She planted her smile and kissed him, hurrying away from the hotel and back toward The Copperfield House. The walk was only about a mile and a half, which was really nothing, but it gave Sophia plenty of time to stew about Francis. How did he really feel about children? Why hadn’t he had children with any of his ex-wives?

Now that I’m pregnant, what if he leaves me?

By the time Sophia reached The Copperfield House, she’d worked herself into a nervous state. She sat on the front porch swing and shifted in the breeze. From within came the sounds of the children playing, and shortly afterward, Alana and Julia burst out of the house and asked Sophia why she was crying.

“Mom!” Julia called. “Sophia is here!”

Greta came outside next. Her face was lined and fatigued, and her eyes were busy with worry.

“Honey, are you all right?” she asked.

Sophia was suddenly embarrassed. The last thing she wanted was for Greta to consider Sophia another burden.

But suddenly, Sophia fell into Greta’s arms and burst into tears.

Greta was good at handling this. She held her tightly and massaged her back.

I wonder if I’ll be half as good of a mom as she is , Sophia thought.

“Let’s get you a cup of tea,” Greta urged. “Come on.”

Sophia followed Greta inside. Alana and Julia were hot on their heels, curious about the strange Hollywood woman and her tears. But soon, Greta sent them to play upstairs, asking them to check on Quentin.

“His fever has me worried sick,” Greta muttered to the kettle.

Sophia sat at the kitchen table and wrung her hands.

Greta turned and looked at Sophia. A moment of silence passed.

“I’m sorry to come over here like this,” Sophia said.

“You don’t have to apologize for a thing.”

“It’s just that I didn’t expect it,” Sophia said. “I didn’t plan for it.”

The kettle began to whistle. Greta hurried to pour two mugs and then sat at the table.

Sophia placed both hands on the table and admitted the truth. “I’m pregnant. I just found out yesterday. The doctor told me I’m only about four weeks along. But Greta, I never dreamed this would happen to me.”

Greta was suddenly on her feet. Her arms traced Sophia’s shoulders, and she hugged her close.

“This is fantastic news, Sophia!” Greta cried. “A baby is always a good thing.”

Sophia’s heart pumped. She tried to echo Greta’s excitement. She tried to feel how she’d felt just that morning.

But instead, everything else tumbled from her mouth.

“I really don’t know what to think. We’re about to start filming The Brutal Horizon . Everything is clicking into place. If I tell Francis I’m pregnant, what will happen?”

Greta waved her hand. “Francis can run off and make his movies, and you can return to Los Angeles and take care of yourself and the baby.”

Sophia’s stomach spasmed. She couldn’t tell Greta the truth—that she’d been the one to write The Brutal Horizon . Maybe she was frightened that Greta wouldn’t believe her.

“I like being there when he makes the films,” Sophia said instead. “I get really involved.”

“Then go with him! You still have months and months before anyone will even know,” Greta said.

Sophia’s heart swelled. Could she have everything at once?

“I just worry,” Sophia said hesitantly. “I worry that Francis doesn’t want a baby. I worry that everything will change.”

“Men are always a little iffy on babies until they’re born,” Greta said. “Bernard didn’t know what to make of my first pregnancy. But now he dotes on Quentin more than any of our other children. His first baby! His first and only son!” She shook her head and smiled.

Sophia bit her lip. All she wanted was to tell Greta what was really on her mind. Now that she was pregnant, he could take her script and run off and make movies without her.

Now that she was pregnant, he was free to have any affair he pleased.

Now that he’d hired that beautiful actress Natalie, he was free to love her however he pleased.

Oh, but wasn’t it Sophia’s fault he hired her?

Why did she push it!?

Why did she try to help?

“What’s really on your mind, Sophia?” Greta asked. It was almost as though she could read Sophia’s mind.

Sophia tugged at her own hair. “Have you seen the pretty actress Francis hired for The Brutal Horizon ?”

Greta shook her head.

“She and I were in acting classes together in Los Angeles,” Sophia said timidly. “When she told me she wanted to try out for Francis’s next film, I told her to go for it. I never imagined she’d actually get the part.”

“It’s great that she got the part!” Greta said.

Sophia thought she was going to burst into tears.

She remembered when she’d first got the bit part in a Francis Bianchi film. She’d thought her life was finally going to begin!

But what if her story was over? What if, now that she was pregnant, Natalie was waiting on stage right to steal her glory?

Natalie can’t write like me , Sophia thought.

But nobody would ever know that Sophia had written A Cataclysm , A Sacred Fig , and The Brutal Horizon .

She’d let Francis take the credit.

She’d let him do whatever he liked.

But just now, Greta’s face was so sunshine-y and warm that Sophia could do nothing but smile.

“You have a fairy-tale life, Miss Sophia,” Greta assured her, pouring her a glass of sparkling water. “Don’t overthink it. Soak up the beauty of it.”

Sophia tried. She really did. In fact, all afternoon, as she roamed through the beaches and along the harbor, she thought, This is my fairy tale life! This is all I’ve ever wanted!

But she couldn’t help but feel that something was very wrong.

Maybe the first clue was her final thought before she returned to the hotel to prepare for the gala.

If he divorced her, or if he left her, or if he even cheated on her—he wouldn’t get another creative word out of her. His career would be doomed.

And then she thought, Goodness, where did that come from?