Seabreeze Dreams (The Salt Sisters #9)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

It was raining on the day they buried Nora’s parents.

Long sheets of silver dropped from low-slung clouds, casting everyone from the cemetery to their waiting vehicles.

Their wheels splashed through puddles, speeding them off to the awaiting wake, where they would eat sandwiches and drink too much wine and talk about what a tragedy it all was.

Nora, who at sixteen had just been orphaned by a heinous and spontaneous car accident, stood outside her aunt and uncle’s Peugeot, her brown hair slick and wet over her forehead, her heart pounding.

When she glanced behind her, she saw the gravediggers hurling mounds of soil over her parents’ caskets.

Panic and nausea stirred her stomach. It wasn’t till her Aunt Cynthia cracked the window and called out, “Darling, get in the car!” that her reverie broke and she fell into the back seat, curling her spine so that her forehead pressed against her thighs.

Nora hadn’t seen her Aunt Cynthia and Uncle Everett in many years.

Cynthia was her mother’s only sister, but for reasons unbeknownst to Nora, Cynthia and Nora’s mother hadn’t spoken often, and Nora and her parents had never been to Nantucket Island to visit the Greenaways and their four children.

Nora knew that her aunt and uncle had more money than anyone in her close-knit community in New Hampshire.

But at sixteen, money was more of an abstract concept, and as they sped off to the wake, Cynthia’s expensive perfume nearly choked Nora.

The wake was held at Gwen Matthews’s place.

Gwen was a widow who’d attended church services with Nora’s parents for the previous twenty years.

She was kind-hearted, with eyes that seemed almost lavender when the light hit them.

She was the closest person Nora had to family, and when she, her aunt, and uncle entered the wake, Nora had to bite her tongue to keep herself from hurling her bodyweight into little Gwen and sobbing till she had nothing left.

Gwen was in her eighties, with bright white hair that she always kept in a bun at the nape of her neck.

As she shook first Uncle Everett and then Aunt Cynthia’s hands, she blinked rapidly, as though she were fighting tears.

Someone came and handed Nora a plate of sandwiches, little cakes, and cookies, and she had a strange instinct to throw it so that the meats and cheeses and frosting got all over everything.

Just as she’d suspected, she kept hearing such a tragedy, such a tragedy. She couldn’t take it.

Uncle Everett and Aunt Cynthia looked far more glamorous than anyone else at the wake.

Aunt Cynthia was in all silk, and Uncle Everett wore a suit that made him look like he’d stepped out of an old movie.

They poured themselves glasses of wine and scotch and sat on the sofa, making light small talk.

Nora remained standing with her plate of food until Gwen scooped her arm around her and led her to the kitchen.

She spoke quietly, anxiously, in a way that made it difficult for Nora to understand what she was saying at first.

And then Nora heard, “Which is why we all think it’s for the best, honey. I’m too old to be any kind of guardian, and your aunt and uncle love you and want to care for you.”

Panic shot through Nora’s chest. “You’re sending me to Nantucket?”

Gwen grimaced, her eyes flashing through the kitchen, where neighborhood church ladies continued to make more sandwiches, as though the grievers splayed on Gwen’s sofas couldn’t fill themselves fast enough. Nora wondered if she’d ever eat again.

“Do you know what Nantucket looks like?” Gwen asked.

“No. We never went there.” Nora shook her head. “I don’t think my parents ever wanted me to go there.” Maybe that was a decent tactic, suggesting that her parents wanted her to stay in New Hampshire, where they’d chosen to build their lives and raise her.

But it already seemed as though the mechanisms were churning, as though the powers that be had already decided where Nora would end up.

In no uncertain terms, Gwen explained that her aunt and uncle were very wealthy and well-connected.

They could set her up at a prominent university when the time came, and they had four children, four cousins that Nora didn’t know yet.

“Don’t you want to be with your family?” Gwen asked sweetly.

“I’m sixteen,” Nora said. “I’m almost an adult.” She wanted to tell her that she could stay at the house she’d shared with her parents, that she could cook and clean, attend school, and pave her own way. But Gwen shook her head sadly. Nora wasn’t old enough.

Nora took no more than two hours to pack her things.

When she got down to it, most of her belongings were worth nothing to her: books she’d already read, notebooks she’d already scribbled through, clothes she’d already begun to hate.

She brought two suitcases to the living room, then waited in the front room of the house where she’d been raised, watching out the window for her aunt and uncle’s car.

As she waited, she tried not to think about the fact that this was the last time she’d ever sit in this house.

She tried not to think about how, not two weeks ago, she and her mother and father had collapsed on that very sofa, cackling, deciding what they wanted for dinner while plotting out the events of the approaching summer.

Nora ached with the memory of their last day, when they’d told her that they were going into the city to watch a play, but that they’d be back before midnight.

She wondered what they’d been talking about in the car when the accident happened.

She wondered what they might have told her about the play and whether they’d liked it. These were things she’d never know.

There was an abyss of sorrow in her heart.

That afternoon, Nora took her first flight ever.

It was a private plane out of a nearby local airport, a plane that, apparently, belonged to her Uncle Everett and Aunt Cynthia.

Nora settled into her seat nervously, crossing and uncrossing her ankles.

Aunt Cynthia ordered a glass of champagne, and Uncle Everett got another glass of scotch, which was apparently his thing.

When the flight attendant came over to ask Nora what she wanted, she considered ordering wine for herself, just to see if she could get away with it.

But she heard her mother’s voice in her head, Honey, stay accountable for yourself.

So, she ordered a Coke and drank it too fast, till the bubbles made her stomach ache.

The plane landed on Nantucket Island right before nightfall.

Nora had done nothing on the plane save for looking out the window, watching that little rock in the Atlantic grow bigger and bigger until it was all there was on either side.

Once outside, she inhaled the salty air and zipped her coat to her chin.

She was led to another fancy sports car, one that she could identify from the jaguar animal on the back, then driven to the edge of the island to a house that seemed more mansion than family home.

There was a gate out front, sweeping dunes, and long flushes of green grass.

Their swimming pool glinted turquoise, even in the twilight.

Inside, Aunt Cynthia led Nora upstairs to her bedroom, which was much larger than the one she’d had since she was a baby, with a king-sized bed and a large window that looked out over the ocean.

Aunt Cynthia, who didn’t look anything like Nora’s mother, no matter how much Nora looked for it in her face, stood by Nora’s bedroom door, watching her inspect the space.

She said, “We’re going to have dinner in about an hour.

You’ll meet the children before then.” Her voice was darker than it had been in New Hampshire, proof, maybe, that she was tired, or that she didn’t know how to talk to Nora when they were alone.

“We usually dress well for dinner,” Aunt Cynthia continued.

“I imagine there will be something for you in the closet. I don’t think anything you’ve brought will work. ”

Nora was caught off guard. But before she could say anything, Aunt Cynthia disappeared, closing the door behind her.

Nora crept to the walk-in closet, where she found more than twenty black and navy dresses, all made of fine materials like silk and cashmere.

There were also stockings and shining black shoes, all of which were in Nora’s size.

It occurred to her that her aunt had assessed her size and had called Nantucket to have everything arranged.

Were their “fancy” dinners together so important?

Nora considered putting on her pajamas and lying in bed for the rest of the day.

But the fact was, she’d eaten so little since her parents’ death, and she felt hollow and weak. She needed to eat.

During the ten minutes before dinner, Nora was introduced to the four Greenaway children in the fancy living room with the grand piano, the priceless paintings, and the bright green plants with enormous, jungle-like leaves.

Nora felt on display and itchy in her new black dress.

Aunt Cynthia was there, but Uncle Everett was not, and there was no explanation as to where he was or when he would join.