Chapter 6
Jeremy packed up the truck with Sarah’s bags long before they needed to depart. With so much time to spare and nothing to do, he became jittery and agitated, asking Sarah numerous questions that had no bearing on today’s move. “Did your landlord tell you if he’s charging for extra air conditioning? It’ll get hot this summer.” “What about cell phone data? Is the signal strong up there?” “You remember that you have to get a good eight hours of sleep every night? I don’t want that rash to creep back up again.” Sarah rubbed her temples. He was just stressing her out even more. Alana eventually stuck up for Sarah and said, “Everything is under control, J! Sarah’s got this. We’re just helping her move her stuff from point A to point B.” Jeremy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and tried to pour himself another cup of coffee, but Alana cut him off. “We don’t need you any more nervous than you already are.”
But soon, it was officially time to go. Jeremy drove Sarah and Alana to The Copperfield House to pick up Alana’s mother. Greta had packed an overnight bag for their stay at the same hotel Alana and Sarah had opted for a couple of weeks ago. She looked vibrant and excited. She leaped into the backseat with more energy than most teenagers and burst into a dialogue with Sarah about her character’s motivations. Apparently, Greta had spent all night reading the play and had memorized some of the lines. Just like Alana, she was soaking up Sarah’s success. But it was adorable to see.
Alana felt this was the Copperfield way of officially bringing Sarah into the family. They adored her. She fit the mold.
On the ferry, Alana and Jeremy cozied up along the railing, and Greta and Sarah grabbed coffees at the kiosk inside. Jeremy muttered in Alana’s ear, “Why couldn’t she fall in love with something that she could do closer to home? Teaching? Heck, she could work with me at the Nantucket Records Office!”
“She doesn’t want to work with her father in a basement,” Alana said with a laugh. She kissed him. “She loves her father to pieces. But she has to go after her dreams.”
Alana’s stomach tightened as a little voice in the back of her head said, you gave up on your dreams, remember? You’re nothing. That voice had been consistent ever since their trip to New York City. And she hated it! No matter how often she told the voice how happy she was and how excited she was about her upcoming wedding, the voice of discontent grew louder and louder. She remembered how her mother used to tell her, “You’re the kind of teenage girl who can never be happy.” She wondered if she was also the kind of woman who could never be happy. Not really. And Jeremy didn’t deserve that! He deserved a woman with no doubts at all.
They reached the Lower East Side by lunchtime. Sarah popped out of the truck to get the keys from the landlord as Jeremy spent the next thirty minutes looking for a decent parking spot. “This is why you shouldn’t move to the city!” he grumbled. Alana reminded him, “That’s why people don’t have cars in the city.”
Sarah came back to grab a few bags and led them into the apartment. Alana watched Jeremy as he inspected every nick and cranny of the little place, opened the cupboards, looked under the bed, and checked to make sure the toilet was flushed. He was frantic as any good father should be. Alana’s mother sat at the edge of the bed, smiling to herself.
“What are you thinking about?” Alana asked.
“I’m thinking about my little apartment in Paris,” Greta said. “It was so tiny! But it was all mine, and I loved it. As far as I was concerned, it was all I needed in the world.” She sniffed. “It’s funny that your father and I went on to buy that enormous house. It must be a thousand times bigger than my old apartment.”
“And a thousand times bigger than this one,” Sarah chimed in. “But it’s home.”
“That’s right!” Greta smiled.
They spent the afternoon doing everything they could to ensure Sarah’s first week would run smoothly. They purchased toiletries and groceries from a local store; they got her fancy espresso for a little French press she’d gotten for Christmas; they took a walk with her around the neighborhood so she could get their bearings. Jeremy started to get excited at some point, talking about the historic architecture and the beautiful parks filled with old trees. Alana strung her arm through his and listened to the rhythm of their conversation. These were three people she loved so much it hurt. She realized that Greta would have loved to be there to move her to New York City back when she’d done it. But she’d gone with Asher instead. She’d latched herself to a man in a way Greta hadn’t understood or respected.
It was hard not to hold herself accountable for that.
Ginny invited them to a beautiful Italian restaurant that evening in Little Italy. Alana explained to her mother how she knew Ginny, giving a brief overview of their tremendously electrifying years together in New York City.
Greta said, “And she’s still working as an actress? How wonderful!”
And again, Alana sizzled with jealousy. Would her mother respect her more if she was doing that?
Ginny was a few minutes late. Alana, Jeremy, Greta, and Sarah waited nervously in the foyer of the restaurant, stealing glances at the gorgeous diners peppered across the room. Their faces were illuminated with candles. Ginny entered with the flourish of a performer and threw her arms around Alana.
“And you must be the famous Greta Copperfield!” Ginny said. “Alana always gushed about your work.”
Greta looked momentarily confused. “Alana gushed about my work. I don’t buy it.”
But it was true, Alana remembered. She’d been obsessed with her mother’s brilliance and Alana’s apparent lack of brilliance. Despite having her face in Times Square, she’d felt like a failure in her mother’s eyes. And she’d always talked about it when it got too late into the night or the morning. Ginny and those in her close circle knew Alana’s pain and torment. She wasn’t sure she’d ever shared it fully with Asher, though. Perhaps that was proof of something.
They were seated. Ginny ordered olives and tiny sausages, as well as Aperol spritzes with orange slices. When they didn’t card Sarah, Jeremy decided to look the other way. Sarah looked gleeful and promised, “Just one, Dad.” Jeremy shrugged and said, “You’re on your own now. I know you’ll take care of yourself.” He gave her a look of tenderness mixed with fear.
“I’ll take care of her,” Ginny promised. “We’re in almost every scene together, aren’t we, doll?” She laughed. “I’ll make sure she shows up every day to rehearsal.”
“I appreciate that,” Jeremy answered seriously.
Greta sipped her Aperol spritz and looked at Ginny. “You have to tell me about your career,” she said. “You’ve been at this a long time.”
Alana’s stomach twisted.
“Maybe too long!” Ginny laughed. “But it’s true. I came to the city a few months before my nineteenth birthday, and I never left. I’ve worked with just about every theater company in the city. Many of them have closed up shop over the years. It’s a tragedy. New York is a city that pours money into the arts, but times have changed everywhere, even here.”
Alana’s mother’s eyes glinted with intrigue. “Out of curiosity, did you ever work with the Winsome Theater Company?”
Ginny’s smile fell, and she tilted her head. “Goodness, yes. Years and years ago. They closed up in 2008 or 2009, right?”
Greta raised one of her shoulders. “What years were you with them?”
“Must have been 2006 till they disbanded,” Ginny answered. “Are you familiar with their productions?”
“Maybe,” Greta said. Her voice was very soft and uneven.
What was going on? Alana felt the air shift and tighten over the table. Greta was looking at Ginny as though she were a ghost.
“Do you happen to know someone named Celeste Harding?” Greta asked.
Ginny’s eyes filled with tears. Alana was so startled that she set down her olive.
“You know her.” Greta sounded excited. “Did you perform her plays?”
Ginny reached for a napkin and pressed it over her eyes. Alana burned with curiosity. She locked eyes with Jeremy over the table and raised her shoulders. Greta’s face fell.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Greta said. “She’s an old friend of mine.”
Ginny allowed the napkin to fall from her face. She gaped at Greta for a long time. And then she said, “You don’t know, do you?”
“What don’t I know?” Greta asked, straightening her posture as though she were preparing to take an enormous blow.
“We just lost her last week,” Ginny said. “Breast cancer. It happened so quickly. I didn’t even hear about it until after the funeral.”
Alana turned to watch her mother melt on the spot. Ginny was wordless. Greta burst up and muttered, “I’m sorry. I just need a minute,” before running toward the bathroom and disappearing. Alana hesitated and then stood to follow after her. Celeste Harding? Alana had never heard that name before, but that didn’t mean anything. People were always coming in and out of The Copperfield House. The timing was strange, though. Ginny had known Celeste from 2006 to 2009—years when Greta had apparently been locked up inside The Copperfield House and refusing to see anyone. The Copperfield House closed its doors in 1997. Had she known her before that?
Alana entered the bathroom and knocked on the stall that held her mother. She was sniffling. “Mom? Are you all right?”
The bathroom door opened just a crack to show Greta’s face. It was hard and stoic, as though she wanted to hide her tears from her eldest.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mom,” Alana said because she didn’t know what else to say.
Greta’s chin quivered. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to go home now.”
Alana was suddenly terrified. Greta wasn’t the sort of woman to run home to cry.
“We can’t go home right now. The Hyannis ferries don’t run all night.” Alana felt strange delivering this news to her mother, who probably knew the ferry schedules like the back of her hand. “But you can go to our hotel early if you like. I booked you a separate room.” Alana wet her lips as her mother continued to stare right through her. “I could take you there now if you like.”
Greta crossed her arms tightly over her chest like a child might.
“Who is Celeste Harding?” Alana finally asked.
“I’d like to go back to the hotel,” Greta said firmly. “But I can go by myself. Don’t worry about me.”
She stalked past Alana in a role reversal fit for an Oscar and retreated into the dining room. Alana followed after her and watched as she grabbed her bag, nodded to the others, and stepped into the night. She was gone.