Fate & Waves (The Salt Sisters #10)

Chapter 1

Two weeks after Arietta and Fred’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, they found themselves in Athens, Greece, sunning on a stone veranda overlooking the entirety of that ancient city. An orange sun hung lazily in the sky, bathing them in light.

Arietta slid her fingers through her husband’s, filling her lungs with hot air. “I can’t believe we’re here,” she whispered.

Fred cocked his head and delivered his delicious smile, one that yanked her back through time—twenty-five years and beyond—to the summer on Nantucket Island when they’d first met one another.

It felt like last week, or maybe the one before that.

But now, Arietta was forty-nine years old, and Fred was fifty-six. How had that happened?

“It’s been one heck of a ride, babe,” he said.

“It really has.”

They’d flown in from Boston that morning.

The idea was that they’d attend a conference here in Athens before taking a ferry to Mykonos, then to Paros, and finally to Santorini.

It wasn’t Fred’s work that brought them here.

It was Arietta’s. She wondered if that made Fred uncomfortable, then told herself not to think about it.

Regardless of how much Fred respected her work or how much money her work had brought to their lives over the years, it was still important to her.

This conference had invited Arietta specifically because she was one of the leading journalists in Alzheimer’s research.

Here in Athens, the best and brightest scientists in memory care were coming together to discuss new research, innovative strategies, and the future of eliminating the disease for good.

Arietta had leaped at the opportunity, grateful to hear about the cutting-edge research from the scientists themselves rather than reading about it in a press release alongside everyone else.

She’d worked hard for this status—long-form articles, building a social media presence, and traveling around the United States to interview scientists at prestigious universities and research centers. She knew all of the major players in the field.

Arietta and Fred got dressed—Arietta in a sleek black dress and Fred in a suit—then took an Uber to the conference center, which was on the outskirts of the city, where the buildings were considerably more modern than the Acropolis.

Once there, Fred got out of the car and opened the door wider to help Arietta out.

His mother had always told him to be a gentleman, especially when people were watching.

Now, cameras flashed from the “blue carpet,” which had been set out for them to walk down.

Apparently, blue had been decided as the color to represent memory.

But nobody was entirely keen on showing off their outfits or getting their pictures taken.

Arietta and Fred hurried past, barely glancing at the photographers.

Almost immediately, Arietta recognized a few other journalists inside the convention center.

Like Arietta, they’d initially studied science and the brain before swapping careers for journalism, realizing they were more word-oriented and could use language to advance the field.

Arietta had had to fail three laboratory classes before she’d realized she was needed elsewhere.

After her mother’s diagnosis eight years ago, what had begun as a purely science-leaning journalism career had catapulted her into Alzheimer’s research journalism.

And now, two years after her mother’s untimely and harrowing death, a death that nobody should ever have to experience, Arietta was immersed in this field.

She knew everything about the latest technologies and medications.

She knew where the best memory clinics in the world were and about every “bizarre” tactic doctors had used to try to bring memory back into their patients’ lives.

“I’m going to grab a wine,” Fred said. “You want one?”

“Champagne for me,” she said, watching as the Greek servers walked with drink-ladened trays.

Fred left for a moment, then returned with two glasses. “I’ll try to keep up with everything tonight,” he said, laughing as they clinked. “I don’t know how many times I’ve asked you to explain what an amyloid plaque is.”

Someone else, a man, interjected, “There are a lot of terms. Don’t beat yourself up.”

Arietta and Fred turned to find Jasper Harris coming toward them, carrying a cocktail. He shook first Arietta’s hand, then Fred’s, and said, “I wondered if you were going to make the trip.”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Arietta said. “When did you get over here?”

Jasper thought for a moment. “I’ve been in Europe for about two months now, interviewing a few specialists in Switzerland, Belgium, and the Netherlands. My wife threw me out, you see. Marriage over! So I thought I’d take the opportunity to spread my wings and see what was going on over here.”

Arietta put her hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Jasper.”

Jasper laughed. “It was a long time coming, honestly. We’re both happier. We’re talking more now than we have for the past ten years!”

Fred clinked his glass with Jasper’s. “Cheers to that, my friend.”

At that moment, the moderator came to the stage to announce it was time for everyone to take their seats.

He explained that first, the researchers would give their speeches, and then dinner would be served.

“After that, we’ll have another couple of speeches, a Q many had lost someone, too.

At some point, just as she usually did, Arietta brought up the fact of her eldest daughter, Shannon. “She’s in grad school at Yale. Neuroscience. She wants to figure this out,” she explained.

The scientist smiled. “Yale! That’s really something.”

“She was always our brainiest kid,” Fred said proudly. “All our kids are smart, though.”

Arietta offered Fred a kind smile. She loved that he didn’t want to leave their other daughters out, not even in a conversation that had nothing to do with Felicity and Isabelle.

“They surely get their brains from their parents!” Jasper declared. “How is Shannon doing at Yale?”

“She’s doing very well,” Arietta said, although they hadn’t heard much from Shannon in the past few months. “She’s dating another neuroscientist, if you can believe that.”

“The two of them can figure this stuff out for all of us, as far as I’m concerned,” Jasper said.

“I hope they can,” Arietta said, feeling breathless. What if Shannon figured out how to cure Alzheimer’s? What if their beautiful and brilliant daughter changed the world?

Over the next three days in Athens, Arietta interviewed specialists, wrote fifty pages of notes for future articles, and broadened her understanding of Alzheimer’s research.

As she worked, Fred did a bit of work himself, fielding calls from his employees—employees at the same business his father had owned and his grandfather had started.

It had to do with financial planning and was entirely the reason Fred and Arietta Peters were never hurting for cash flow.

Arietta was pretty sure that Fred would never understand what it meant to be broke. Strangely, she was grateful that she understood it, that she’d had those broke experiences. She’d once been a very poor college student and thought she would face a lifetime of pinching pennies.

She was grateful it hadn’t worked out like that, of course. However, she wasn’t always comfortable with having so much wealth.

Just a glance around their immaculate Athens apartment was proof of Fred’s money.

It towered over Athens, and its tremendous windows glowed with golden light every afternoon.

From those windows, you could see the sea just beyond the tops of the buildings.

The turquoise of it seemed to stretch on and on.

The apartment had four bedrooms, two of which Arietta and Fred used as offices, and their kitchen was state-of-the-art, though they didn't use it much, not with so many restaurants around. It was more space than two people ever needed. Fred didn’t bat an eye.

Every night before they fell asleep, Arietta lay on her side in bed and gazed at Fred in the darkness.

Here he was, her husband of twenty-five years!

How had that happened? Usually, he fell asleep almost immediately, and she listened to his soft, deep breathing and thanked her lucky stars they were together, that they were still married.

Many of her friends back in Boston, where they’d lived throughout their marriage, had gotten divorced.

The divorces had seemed so messy because, usually, affairs were involved. People gossiped like crazy.

On the fourth morning, they packed their things and took a cab to the Piraeus Port, where a ferry waited to take them on their Greek island tour.

Arietta could hardly wait. Although it was only nine in the morning, the sun was blisteringly hot, and Fred was sweating so much that they had to find shade. He used his sleeve to wipe his brow.

“We’ll get on the ferry and get something to drink,” Arietta said, narrowing her eyes. She didn’t like that Fred was turning a strange shade of yellowish green.

“Sounds good,” Fred said meekly.

Finally, the ferry arrived, and they climbed aboard. Fred was unsteady on his feet, and Arietta wondered if she could catch him if he fell. But falling wasn’t a thing Fred ever did, not even at his sickest.

They’d booked in first class, where air-conditioning chilled the seats and calmed Arietta’s breathing.

Ferry workers hauled their bags to a nearby cart, then took their food and drink orders.

Not many others had sprung for first class, which gave Fred and Arietta a bit of privacy.

Fred took a long sip of water and tried to smile, but it seemed difficult.

“We can take it easy when we get to the island,” Arietta told him, rubbing his shoulder. “Or maybe taking a dip in the water would do you some good?”

Fred closed his eyes for a long time. There was a moment of terror, during which Arietta was sure that he was about to tell her that he wanted to leave her, that their marriage was over.

And then he said, “Lots of things going on in here.”

It didn’t make any sense.

Arietta turned to look around the room, but it was empty save for a sleeping woman in the corner. She thought maybe Fred was making a joke. Her stomach flipped. “Ha. Yeah. Nice to have a bit of quiet.”

But Fred was stricken. He furrowed his brow and leaned back in his chair. “The thing about equine sponsorship is,” he said, then continued with a bunch of gibberish that Arietta couldn’t make sense of. He gaped at her.

“Fred?” Arietta whispered. He was never one to be foolish.

Fred got to his feet and began to stagger. The ferry was already out on the water, moving like a giant beast toward the island. He turned away from Arietta, but his left arm hung terribly, as though it were dead. He continued to say syllables that made no sense to her.

Arietta was beginning to panic. “Fred? Fred, look at me.” She hurried around him and gazed up at his face, a face she knew better than her own, a face she’d watched age.

When he spoke this time, one half of his face didn’t follow his words. It drooped like his arm.

Arietta understood that Fred was having a stroke.

Arietta cried out, then smashed the “alarm” bell on the wall beside them.

Everything happened quickly after that. Ferry employees came in and called a doctor.

A boat ambulance came screaming up beside the ferry, and emergency medical workers came aboard to take Fred away.

All the while, Fred was on the floor, gaping at her, with panic in his eyes.

She didn’t know whether he understood what was going on.

It wasn’t clear how much of him was still present.

“Fred, I love you,” Arietta whispered. “Fred, stay with me. Please.”