Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
V alerie, Esme, Rebecca, and Bethany returned to the Sutton Family House—which had been the Gardner residence during Esme and Larry’s very long and happy marriage—at five thirty that evening. It was then that Valerie was faced with a fact about herself: she was an aunt. More than that, she was a bad aunt because she’d never met any of her nieces and nephews.
Rebecca and Bethany both had three children. All of them were living together under one roof: Chad, Shelby, and Lily, the children of Rebecca and her deceased husband Fred, plus Maddie, Tommy, and Phoebe, the children of Bethany and her horrible soon-to-be ex-husband from Savannah. Valerie knew better than to bring him up.
From the back window with a glass of wine in her hand, Valerie watched her six nieces and nephews with a lump in her throat. They were throwing baseballs and catching them in the same mitts she’d once used with Joel. They were kicking soccer balls. The eldest, Lily, who planned to return to Columbia University in a few weeks, lay at a distance and read a book with her hair spread out on the grass. It was a beautiful scene of Nantucket leisure. It was like looking into the past.
Bethany and Rebecca joined her on either side. Rebecca put her head on Valerie’s shoulder and exhaled. From the kitchen came the sound of Esme preparing dinner: slicing onions and garlic. Music purred from the stereo, a song they’d all loved thirty-five years ago, “Our Song” by Elton John. A shiver ran down Valerie’s spine. It took her every bit of energy to remain glued there and not flee.
I wonder what Alex is doing right now?
Immediately, she shook that thought out. She didn’t even know if he was still on the island. She hadn't looked him up when she was there earlier in the summer. She’d gone out of her way to walk around The Rooster and avoid it. But nightmares had plagued her.
“Tell us everything,” Rebecca urged as they gathered at the kitchen table. Rebecca was prepping the chicken, and Bethany was making a salad. “How has it been in San Francisco? How did that job go?”
Valerie felt limp and useless. She took a slice of watermelon from the platter and nibbled at the edge.
“It went okay,” Valerie said finally.
Rebecca’s cheek twitched. It was clear she planned to ask more questions, as many as necessary to get to the heart of the matter with Valerie. But the truth was that everything was the matter with Valerie. Everything was always wrong. Rebecca couldn’t fix it by playing house.
“It was for the American Literary Association,” Valerie continued when the silence became too poisonous.
“Writers?” Esme was intrigued.
“Sort of. Mostly just the people who donate money and make decisions about which books are published and which rot,” Valerie said. “It was all very civilized. No writers or artists. No drama.” Until I threw the Negroni.
“Do you have photographs?” Bethany asked.
Valerie pulled up photos on her phone to show the setup before the guests arrived. Mikey was behind the bar with his hand raised, and the California sun hovered dreamily in a vibrant blue sky.
Everyone agreed the site was stunning.
“I hope the Sutton Book Club isn’t too boring for you,” Esme said. “For planning an event, I mean.”
Valerie’s cheeks burned. “Not at all. I’m excited to get started. You’ll have to tell me your vision for the event.” She tried a smile, and it strained her face. “Where’s Dad?” Maybe they already kicked him out. Perhaps I don’t have to write the book at all.
“He’s on his way over,” Esme said. “As are a few other guests.” She flashed a smile at Rebecca and Bethany, one that urged them to explain.
“Do you remember Ben?” Rebecca asked.
Valerie remembered him as one of the veterans at the veterans’ dinners Esme hosted at the Sutton Book Club. He lived with an elderly man who’d fought in World War II alongside their grandfather, Esme’s father. But Valerie already knew that Rebecca and Ben were a thing. Perhaps Rebecca had forgotten she’d told her.
Valerie tried to play along. “So it’s happening?”
Rebecca waved her hand like a teenage girl. “It’s barely happening. It’s about as slow as molasses. So much has happened to both of us. We’re just two damaged people.”
“But you’re having fun,” Bethany suggested.
Rebecca laughed gently. “Yes. I suppose you could say that.” She looked at Bethany thoughtfully. “But it’s your turn to share who your guest is.”
Valerie felt just as she had when she was little. Rebecca and Bethany were her older sisters. They knew each other better, and they shared secrets. Theirs was an intimate relationship. Valerie had been grouped with Joel instead. That’s our tomboy, Val, with her twin brother. Everyone had thought they were twins. It wasn’t true, no matter how much Valerie had wanted people to believe it.
“Do you remember Rod?” Bethany asked.
Rod was Bethany’s high school boyfriend. He’d worshipped her until she’d run off to Manhattan to take a medical internship. The story was that Bethany freaked out while there, got very depressed, and broke things off with Rod. Rod might have taken her back immediately, but he’d made a mistake and gotten someone pregnant shortly thereafter. It was dramatic. And now the world had his darling daughter, Renee.
But now that things were over between Bethany and her husband, Rod swooped back in.
“You must think it’s crazy,” Bethany suggested. “I mean, we haven’t known each other since high school.”
“But that sort of thing happens all the time,” Esme reported. “You remember the Copperfield girls? Julia and Alana married their high school sweethearts after returning to Nantucket.”
Rebecca wagged her eyebrows. “Have you heard anything from Zach lately?”
Valerie wanted to roll her eyes into the back of her head. Zach was her high school boyfriend, a guy who’d written bad poetry, played guitar, and said things like, “Kurt Cobain was the last vital voice in music.” Valerie had broken things off and moved to Seattle shortly after graduation. Strangely, he frequently contacted her, wrote her letters, and ensured she was all right. Because he wasn’t a Sutton, Valerie let him in. He was the one who’d told her about Larry’s death. He was the reason Valerie had brought Esme to San Francisco in the spring.
“He’s married,” Valerie said. “Happily married, I believe.”
“Oh,” Rebecca said. She was deflated. She wanted to wrap everything up in a neat bow.
“I don’t have to marry Zach to be happy,” Valerie said. “I don’t have to marry anyone at all.”
An image flashed through her mind of herself and Alex in Vegas. She could see their reflection in Elvis’s sunglasses. She could feel her heart in her throat.
Esme scraped onions into a saucepan and asked offhandedly, “Do you remember Alex? Alex Garland? He was always around when you were a kid.”
Valerie’s stomach sloshed, and she thought she was going to throw up. “Um. Yes?” Her voice was a string.
Did she find out? Is she teasing me? Did Alex tell his parents after all?
“I saw him at the grocery store a few months back,” Esme said, speaking down into the sizzling onions. “He looked like he wanted to run away from me. Poor guy. You know, he was living out in California, too?”
Valerie made a soft noise in her throat and leafed through her purse to find her phone. She needed a distraction.
“Joel’s best friend, right?” Rebecca asked.
“Yes. The two of them were inseparable,” Esme remembered. “And Valerie was always their third wheel.”
“I resent that,” Valerie shot. “They demanded I hang out with them.”
Esme laughed gently, but her shoulders sagged. Proof it made her sad.
“What was he doing in California?” Bethany asked.
“He said he was working in the entertainment business,” Esme went on. “I didn’t know exactly what that meant. But then I heard he filmed a few weddings this summer. He must be a filmmaker of some kind.”
“It’s so hard to make it out there,” Rebecca said.
Valerie closed her eyes and considered saying, Nobody worked harder than Alex. Nobody wanted it more than Alex. It wasn’t his fault that he failed.
“It’s not always a question of talent,” Bethany agreed. “I thank my lucky stars I’m a doctor. People always need doctors. I can’t imagine being in a field that was so…”
Rebecca gave Bethany a teasing smile. “Like the restaurant field? Like event planning? We know we’re not as important as you, Beth.”
Esme waved a kitchen towel through the air. “Don’t you dare pick a fight, Rebecca.”
Bethany rolled her eyes over to Valerie, who remained quiet. “Were you and Alex friendly in high school?”
Valerie’s heart thumped. “I honestly don’t remember.”
But that wasn’t true. During their marriage, She and Alex discussed how they’d ignored one another in high school because the sight of each other’s faces had filled them with such profound sorrow that they’d struggled to get through the day. Joel died at the age of ten. He left them stranded in lives they couldn’t make sense of.
“I hate that we wasted all that time,” Alex had said.
But Valerie had said, “We needed space. Maybe without it, we never would have been able to come together again.”
A message popped up on Valerie’s phone. It was from Saul.
SAUL: How is my favorite new writer doing?
SAUL: I can’t wait to read the first chapter when it’s ready.
Valerie had agreed to send the first chapter by the end of the week to give Saul a sense of her writing style and her vision for the project. Valerie blinked back tears and shoved her phone back in her purse.
“Are you all right, honey?” Esme asked.
“I’m fine. Just work stuff.”
“I hope we aren’t dragging you away from anything too important?” Rebecca asked.
“No. It’s okay.” It’s research.
Just then the front door screamed open. Next came the sound of Ben’s and Doug’s voices, hollering their greeting. Rebecca disappeared to say hello, then returned wheeling Doug’s chair in to sidle up beside Valerie. He looked brighter and fitter than he had when Valerie last saw him, and Valerie remembered that her father had been instrumental in repairing Doug and Ben’s house and ballooning their lackluster bank accounts. He’s probably getting enough food. He’s probably getting enough rest.
“The California sister,” Doug said with a smile that told you just how cute he’d been as a young soldier in World War II. “How was your flight?”
Valerie remembered the thrashing turbulence, smiled, and said, “It was comfortable. It’s good to be home.” She was so excellent at lying. They should give her an award.
Not long after that, Rod appeared with a bouquet. He pressed his lips to Bethany’s cheek, and her face flashed with pink. Esme hollered across the porch to the far sands to say that the kids needed to come back inside and clean up for dinner. Valerie hurried to set the outdoor table, grateful for the benediction of the warm sun on her shoulders.
She heard her father's voice when she was out there, adjusting the forks and knives. Her heart turned to ice. Through the kitchen window, she watched Victor kiss her mother on the cheek and shake Rod’s hand. He picked up a piece of baguette, which Bethany had sliced dutifully, and ate it, nodding and smiling at everyone. Maddie whisked past, and Victor ruffled her hair just as he’d once ruffled Valerie’s and Joel’s. Valerie closed her eyes. She was shot through with pain.
He’s using you. He’s using all of you.
Victor spotted Valerie through the window and hurried to join her outside. Like Doug, Victor looked far more well-rested, sun-tanned, and vitamin-filled than the last time Valerie had seen him. He’d basked in the light and love of Esme and flourished.
Victor realized very soon that Valerie refused to smile at him. His own lips fell.
“Welcome back, Val,” he said. He clutched the top of one of the veranda dining chairs and looked at her.
“Hey. Thanks.” Valerie remained stiff and on the other side of the table. She still had a few forks and knives in her hand, and she squeezed them so hard that the tines poked her skin.
“It means a lot to us that you want to help plan the fundraiser,” Victor said.
Valerie raised her shoulders. “I want to keep the Sutton Book Club alive.”
“It’s a force for good in the world,” Victor said.
Valerie imagined Victor in front of his laptop, typing: I am a force for good in the world. I have brought my family back together again. She thought she was going to throw up. She finished putting the knives and forks beside their plates. Her father watched her. The dense tension over the tabletop pulsated. Valerie forced her chin up and glared at her father. Maybe she could warn him right here, right now. She could tell him stop writing your book. And then she wouldn’t have to write hers. But could she really keep that secret from her family forever? Didn’t Esme, Rebecca, and Bethany deserve to know that Victor had never returned for their benefit? He’d only wanted to cleanse his once-great name.
He’s going to use all of us and then go on a book tour. He’s going to abandon us all over again.
Rebecca, Rod, Bethany, Ben, and Doug clambered outside a split second later, destroying their awkwardness. Victor soon launched into a conversation with Ben about a redesign Ben hoped to make on the house he shared with Rebecca.
Soon after, Valerie’s six nieces and nephews joined them with scrubbed hands and scabbed knees. Lily, the oldest, grabbed a seat next to Valerie and glanced her way frequently, her eyes burning with curiosity. Finally, she burst with, “One of my best friends at Columbia is from San Francisco. I went there last summer.”
Valerie was surprised to sense that Lily was nervous around her. Am I intimidating? Am I interesting to these kids?
“What did you think?” Valerie asked.
“It was beautiful,” Lily said, spooning salad onto her plate. “We went hiking in John Muir Woods, and I couldn’t believe how enormous those trees were.” She glanced across the table at her mother and extended her arms on either side. “There’s no way you can wrap your arms around these trees. They’re hundreds upon hundreds of years old.”
Valerie and Alex had kissed in Muir Woods. They’d kissed in just about every forest across California. But we’ve never even met as adults out East.
Chad, the jock of Rebecca’s family, sat across from Valerie and filled his plate with more meat and potatoes than anyone else. Valerie sympathized. He was probably growing like a bean and hungry every aching moment. Esme had explained on the car ride from the airport that both Shelby and Chad would be starting school in Nantucket in a few weeks. Valerie wondered what they felt about that. Such abrupt change after their father’s death couldn’t have been easy. They had friends in Maine. They had a life.
Was Rebecca being selfish? Were all parents inherently selfish when it came down to it? Was that why Victor left?
“We should make a toast before we get started,” Victor said, raising a glass of red so that it glinted with the sunlight. “Valerie is home to join us during our whirlwind Sutton summer. Cheers to being back together again.”
“Cheers to that, and to the Sutton Book Club,” Bethany agreed.
“And to your successful surgery the other day,” Rebecca said, raising her glass.
Bethany smiled and sipped her wine. The kids clinked their glasses of soda and water and dove in.
“Surgery?” Valerie asked.
“I was called into the hospital late at night,” Bethany said. “The guy was only thirty-seven years old but needed emergency minor surgery. It was his heart and nothing he could have known about. Genetic.” Bethany raised her eyebrows and filled her fork with potatoes. “The technology around minor heart surgery is so different than it was when I first started. The guy is already up and walking.”
Valerie was genuinely impressed with her sister’s mastery over the human body. It seemed to her that Bethany could carry the world in the palm of her hand and still manage to cook dinner with the other.
Dinner was generous and flavorful: barbecue chicken, potatoes, mushrooms, spinach. Esme had even made key lime pie for dessert, which was one of Valerie’s favorites. Valerie allowed herself an hour of pleasure, of falling into the conversations that peppered around the table. She listened to Shelby talk about meeting a few members of the Nantucket swim team. She listened to Chad complain that the basketball team wasn’t as good as the one back in Maine. She laughed tentatively when Victor suggested that it meant that Chad would be the best on the team. She thanked Rebecca for refilling her wine and asked Maddie, Tommy, and Phoebe questions about their new life in Nantucket after growing up in Savannah. She sensed in them a wariness. They missed their father. They missed their big house and their things.
“It’s all still a mess,” Bethany admitted a few hours later. The table outside was cleared, the dishes were clean and put away, and a smattering of stars appeared in the night sky overhead. Several of the children were asleep upstairs, even Shelby, although Chad remained up and texting and Lily was watching Netflix on her laptop. “They’re too young to know everything about their father. They know that we’re staying here, I have the new job; they know their lives are different now. But I can’t begin to imagine how it’s going to affect them.”
Sitting next to her at the table, Rebecca rubbed her temples and said, “Chad and Shelby keep telling me how fine they are. But how fine can they be so soon after Fred?” She closed her eyes. “I haven’t mentioned anything about Ben, but he’s been around so often. I’m sure they suspect something.”
Bethany and Rebecca eyed one another, seeming to have an entire silent conversation in the air between them. Valerie crossed her arms over her chest and dreamed up ways to escape. In the kitchen were Victor and Esme, chatting over glasses of wine. He looked at her the way men in love looked at the women they adored. Valerie didn’t know how to believe it.
“We should talk about the event!” Rebecca changed the subject fluidly.
“Yes!” Bethany grabbed a notebook from a corner table on the veranda and flung it open to reveal a messy list. “These are the ideas we have so far. But we’re happy to scrap anything you don’t like. You’re the expert, Val. We want to build your vision.”
Bethany, Esme, and Rebecca had selected the first week of September for the fundraising event. It was one week after Saul’s event would announce both Victor’s and Valerie’s memoirs. Valerie wondered if the Sutton Book Club fundraiser would happen after such startling news. She imagined her mother canceling the entire thing and hiding herself away.
Victor and Esme joined the three Sutton sisters at the outdoor table a few minutes later.
“You’re free September seventh?” Rebecca asked Victor.
Valerie searched Victor’s face for hesitance. He knows that’s a week after the publishing event. But Victor was an incredible actor. He’d refined his skills over decades of fame as a lying family psychologist. He’d refined his skills while cheating on his wife with his secretary.
“I’m free as a bird,” Victor said, touching Esme’s shoulder. “Put me to work, Val.”
Valerie had planned what felt like hundreds of fundraising events. It required so little thought. She set up a list of to-dos, assigned tasks to each of her family members, and helped them brainstorm what kind of food they wanted, what kind of games could be played, and how they wanted to organize the space for the comfort of guests. Valerie suggested that they give out prizes or even have a sort of “gambling” system that boosted the fun of the event. When people were having a good time, they were more cavalier about giving money. That was rule number one of fundraising events.
Esme clasped her hands together and gazed at Valerie. Moonlight glinted in her eyes. “We couldn’t have done this without you. I’m so thrilled you’re home.”
“She speaks for all of us,” Victor said.
Valerie fixed her face.
Rebecca, Bethany, Esme, and Victor continued to chat about logistics, and Valerie excused herself to the bedroom she’d been assigned. Coincidentally, it was the same bedroom she’d had growing up. Valerie sat at the edge of the twin-sized bed as her legs shook and her knees banged together. She could hear her father’s laughter outside.
Valerie pulled up a blank document and filled her lungs with air.
In the document, she wrote the first line of what would surely be her top-selling memoir. The memoir that would obliterate Victor Sutton’s name forever. The memoir that would prove to the world just how evil he was.
She wrote, We were Nantucket’s happiest family until we weren’t.
Valerie read and reread the line, then wrinkled her nose and closed the laptop. For the first time since she’d sent the ghostwriter away, she wondered if she could actually hack this. She had to get it right.
And then, for the hundredth time in her life, Valerie pulled up the YouTube video for Blue Days, pressed play, and curled herself around the screen. It pulled her directly into her life six years ago: into smitten mornings of toast and kisses and the California sunlight spilling over white sheets as Alex slept soundly. Into a time before everything exploded in her face.
“ Blue Days is a work of art,” she’d told him repeatedly. “People will see it and understand what a once-in-a-lifetime artist you are. They’re going to change their minds about cinema.”
But what had actually happened was far different and far sadder.
From downstairs on the veranda came her father’s boisterous laughter. He’s never suffered a day in his life.
Blue Days began with a near drowning. The main character, played by a handsome actor Valerie had never really gotten along with named Rowan, surged through waves along the California coast and scrambled for air. It was supposed to be a metaphor for Alex’s drug addiction. And in watching it now, so far away from the California life they’d shared but only a few miles from wherever he lived here in Nantucket, Valerie felt tears spring to her eyes. I wanted to take care of you. I wanted to save you.