Chapter 18
When Arietta arrived at the party, she was surprised to find Jasper waiting for her at the front door.
He wore Ray-Ban sunglasses, a pair of jeans, and another expensive shirt, and he welcomed her with a hug that made her feel small and cared for.
Arietta felt tears fill her eyes. She thought, I never thought anyone would look at me like that again. But she quickly put the thought away.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Jasper said.
Arietta blushed and followed him into the party, where he introduced her to his best friend from college and his wife, Hilda.
Apparently, they were why he’d come here in the first place.
Hilda welcomed her with a hug, then whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry to say this.
I’m sorry if it catches you off guard, but I’m a fan of yours.
Really.” She pulled back but kept her hands on Arietta’s shoulders.
“My father died of Alzheimer’s late last year.
I read almost all of your articles as we prepared for the end.
I can’t thank you enough. You helped me let him go, as strange as that sounds. I knew I needed to let him go.”
Arietta wanted to throw her arms around this woman again.
She wanted to tell Hilda that they were sisters in this terror, that she’d lost her mother to that wretched disease, too.
But soon, before she could compose herself enough to have a good conversation, Jasper took her by the arm and whisked her elsewhere, to meet other people and drink wine and grab a snack or three.
It didn’t matter that Arietta had already eaten tacos with Shannon earlier that evening.
She knew she’d lost weight after Fred’s stroke, and she knew she needed to regain some of that weight at least. Snacks it was!
More drinks, it was! Often, she heard herself laughing louder than she had in ages.
She didn’t recognize herself. She imagined Fred leaning into her ear and whispering, “Calm down on the wine, maybe? People are starting to talk about you.”
It was true that Fred had always been very worried about what people thought. But this was because of where he was from; it was because of his family, his mother. He’d usually apologized for it afterward. Usually.
After nearly an hour of conversation and meeting Nantucketers, Arietta found herself on the veranda, where she spotted Hilary Salt.
Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised to see her, roaming through these beautiful islanders wearing a sensational silk dress.
It seemed that she was everywhere at once, that no matter where Arietta found herself, Hilary Salt would be there with a bit of wisdom and a perfect outfit.
“Hilary!” Arietta called. She half expected Hilary to wave and continue her conversation with whoever she was with, but Hilary interrupted it in an instant and made her way over to Arietta.
“I can’t believe you’re here, too!” Hilary said, hugging her. She smelled wonderful. “The newest edition to the Salt Sisters. That makes you a member of my family.”
Arietta laughed, throwing her head back. There was a strange joy in her heart, one that allowed her, briefly, to ignore the blackmail letter at home, one that allowed her pockets of happiness. Hilary studied her face, then asked, “I hate to bring this up, honey. But I’ve been worried?”
Arietta knew Hilary wanted to ask about the blackmail. She knew Hilary wanted to ruin her happiness, if only because Hilary cared so much.
“It’s all taken care of,” Arietta said breezily, not for the first time. “Everything’s all right. It will always be all right.” She said it because she had to believe it.
“That’s so good to hear, honey,” Hilary said. “But we know it’s still early days for you, so soon after what happened to Fred. You should come back to the house soon and talk with us. We know all these stages better than most.”
Arietta knew that Hilary meant the stages of grief.
But she also knew that she didn’t have time to dwell on those stages.
She had to take care of Fred, who was still alive.
She had to write her article, which was going swimmingly.
And she had to spend time with Shannon, who was fast becoming her very best friend.
Did all mothers get to feel this way about one of their daughters?
She reminded herself to be grateful for all she had rather than dwell on what she’d lost.
Two hours later, a DJ arrived and set up his speakers and his albums, and Arietta found herself dancing by the pool, her hands in the air, her arms covered in gooey pink and purple lights from a light system someone had hung from the porch overlooking the pool.
Again, she felt younger than she had in years.
She watched as the light flickered against her wedding ring.
For the first time, she wondered how much longer she would wear it.
As soon as she’d thought this horrible thing, her smile fell off her face. Jasper noticed and came over to her, bobbing as he danced and walked. “Hey there,” he said, smiling. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she said, trying to brighten her face.
“You want to take a break by the water?” he asked.
Arietta nodded, then followed Jasper down to the sand, where they took off their shoes and dipped their toes in the water.
Arietta closed her eyes and felt droplets of the ocean across her face and nose.
She imagined diving into the black waves and swimming out, so that she could listen to the music of the party at a distance as she floated on her back. But she knew that was dangerous.
“Everyone loves you,” Jasper said, laughing.
“Everyone loves you! I’ve seen at least five women ogling you,” she cried.
“I don’t know about that.” Jasper shrugged.
“I do. Maybe that’s why your wife divorced you? She couldn’t take it,” she said. “Everyone falls in love with you like that.” She snapped her fingers.
Jasper threw his head back in laughter. “She divorced me because we were never right for each other.”
“When did you know you weren’t right for each other?” Arietta asked.
“You mean, at what point in the marriage did I know?” Jasper asked.
Arietta nodded.
Jasper considered this, kicking at the water.
“Maybe ten years ago,” he said. “But ten years can get away from you. You turn around, and suddenly, you’re in your fifties, and you’re getting older and older, and the person you married isn’t the right person.
You know?” A split-second later, Jasper’s face collapsed.
“I’m sorry. That isn’t your situation. Yours is very different. ”
But Arietta understood what he meant. She remembered two years ago, the summer after her mother died, when Fred had seemed like a stranger to her.
She’d been frightened that he was going to suggest divorce.
She’d been frightened that they’d have to explain how they’d “drifted apart” to the girls.
At least three times, she’d considered asking Fred what was on his mind.
She’d imagined saying, “Do you still love me, my darling?”
Maybe she hadn’t been brave enough.
“Jasper!” A woman called his name from the veranda overlooking the black water. “Jasper, are you out there?”
Jasper raised his chin and narrowed his eyes.
Arietta turned to follow his gaze. A beautiful woman in her early forties was searching for him.
Arietta wondered whether something romantic was brewing between them.
She wondered if Jasper was going to invite the woman to his hotel, where they’d kiss and talk all night.
Arietta swallowed down her jealousy and smiled.
“I think you’re needed back at the party, Mr. Harris,” she said.
Jasper laughed. “We both are. Come along?” He stuck out his elbow and waited for her to lace her arm through his.
But Arietta no longer wanted to return to that boisterous party. She no longer wanted to drop from one conversation to the next. She knew she’d had a few too many wines to drive home, and she knew, too, that drivers on staff were waiting to take people home.
“I’m going to head out,” she said.
After a look of sorrowful understanding, Jasper wrapped her in a friendly hug, then whispered in her ear, “It was wonderful of you to come. You saved me tonight. I can’t take these miserable rich people all the time.”
Arietta laughed. “I’m a miserable rich person.”
“No, you’re not,” Jasper said firmly. “And neither am I.”
Arietta knew what he meant. Neither of them had come from wealth, so they knew the other end of the money spectrum. They knew what it meant to have nothing.
Rather than head inside, Arietta walked around the side of the house and toward the driveway, where a collection of twentysomething drivers waited, all in white button-down shirts.
Arietta handed one of them her car keys, and another agreed to follow them to pick up the other.
It didn’t feel like the most practical service, but Arietta didn’t care.
Arietta led the driver to her car, which was parked on the outer edge of the lot, outside the ornate gate that kept everyone in.
There, she unlocked the door and dropped onto the passenger seat.
Something crinkled beneath her. She assumed it was a receipt or a spare piece of paper.
But when she pulled it out from under her, she saw it was an envelope.
It was an envelope with her name on it: Mrs. Arietta Peters.
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
“What’s that?” the driver asked as he adjusted the seat and started the engine.
Arietta’s hands shook. She wanted to throw the letter out the window. She wanted to scream.
“You don’t see people writing letters these days,” the driver said before pressing the gas and getting them out of there.
Arietta didn’t read the blackmail letter till the driver had disappeared down the road with his backup.
She walked through their house, where Shannon was asleep on the sofa, then collapsed at the kitchen table, frightened at how much she was shaking.
With a kitchen knife, she tore open the letter, then unfurled it to read:
Mrs. Peters,
It has come to our attention that you are ignoring us. This is not in your best interests. It means that the cost of our silence has gone up. That’ll be one hundred thousand dollars into our accounts by the end of the week. No negotiation possible.
Your Guardian Angels
Arietta read and reread the letter, her heart pounding. Her mouth tasted of wine and salty cheese, and her stomach sloshed so much that she thought she might vomit.
Suddenly, she heard a creak, and she jumped to her feet, petrified. But it was only Shannon, rubbing her eyes. “Hi, Mom,” she said. And then, when she saw the letter on the kitchen table, she added, “They sent you another one?”
Arietta burst into tears after that. She couldn’t control it. One moment, she was an academic journalist with her life in complete control, and the next, she was sobbing on her daughter’s shoulder. “I don’t understand,” she cried, shaking her head. “I don’t understand.”
Shannon whispered, “Let me help you, Mom. Please. Let me help.”