Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Los Angeles and Nantucket Island
It was a week after Benjamin Whitmore’s confession that Alexander was called into the airline office back at LAX and asked to renew his contract and return to work.
When he’d first received the call, Alexander couldn’t fathom the nerve of his CEO, who’d gone on national television to speak about Alexander as though he were a common criminal who should never have the safety of so many airline guests in his hands.
But in the wake of Benjamin Whitmore’s confession, numerous online petitions had been put up, saying that Alexander Whitmore had been framed and calling for his job back.
The airline had been put in a difficult position.
Alexander decided to go back home and watch them squirm.
There were things to be done out West, as well.
Alexander, Janie, and their kids flew back to LA from Boston airport free of charge—the least they could do, honestly—and returned to the house in Malibu that, once upon a time, Janie had fled to escape Alexander.
Alone in their bedroom, she cuddled him close and said, “I’m sorry that I didn’t believe in you.
I’m just as bad as all those people calling for you to lose your job. ”
Alexander shook his head, his eyes itchy from exhaustion, and his soul spun like cotton candy. “You left for your own reasons,” he said. “You left because I haven’t been a good husband, and you began to discredit your own memories of me. You left because you had to.”
Janie’s eyes shone with tears. Down the hall, Gwen, Conor, and Xander were talking loudly about a topic that Janie and Alexander had pitched on their trek back west. What did the kids feel about moving to the East Coast for a little while?
Janie groaned and propped her head up with her elbows and looked into his eyes.
It had been ages since Alexander and Janie had been alone in their bedroom, and it made Alexander think back to when they’d first moved into this place, when they’d been brand-new parents with another on the way, when they’d been heavy with love and expectation.
The memories made him want to start over and do it all over again.
Would he do anything differently? Maybe he’d tell Janie everything about the night of the fire, first thing. Perhaps he’d tell her how frightened he was of those photographs and what Tio Angelo was capable of.
Alexander showered, changed into a suit, and put on his shiniest shoes.
He then dropped his head into Gwen’s bedroom to find her with her brothers, making pros and cons lists about moving to Nantucket and leaving their life in Malibu behind.
Alexander caught a few items on the list before he said he loved them and left: being close to family, the coolness of the White Oak Lodge reopening, and getting to know our aunts, uncles, and cousins.
They’d also listed sailing, which made Alexander smile.
Alexander trounced down the steps, got into his BMW, and drove to the airline office with the adrenaline of a man who’d already made up his mind.
Alexander greeted the receptionist, who blushed so severely that it was clear even she felt bad about what she’d maybe said about Alexander Whitmore over the past few months. Alexander gave her his most flirtatious smile. “I’m here for the meeting, Sandra.”
She buzzed him in.
Alexander shook the hands of the CEO and the boss directly above him, somehow managing not to say anything mean-spirited.
“It’s been a massive misunderstanding,” the CEO said.
“We saw the photographs and could only imagine the worst,” his boss said.
“If there’s anything we can do,” the CEO added.
But Alexander had made up his mind. He raised both hands and said, “I can’t keep working here.
You didn’t give me the respect to ask me about my past outright.
I can only thank you for the opportunity and go on my way.
” He smiled wider and added, “But I’d like the severance package to end all severance packages.
” Implied in what he was saying was that he’d happily go to his lawyer and consider suing them for slander.
They stuttered and said they’d have something ready for him to see by the end of the week.
When Alexander returned home, his wife and children had five boxes of cheesy pizza waiting for him, along with a conclusion from the pro and con lists.
“We want to move to Nantucket!” Gwen cried.
Alexander couldn’t believe this. He looked at Janie, searching for clues about what she felt, and she bowed her head earnestly.
“It’s time we go back,” she said, squeezing his elbow. “I want to be there to help your sisters reopen. I want to mend the past.”
After that, time seemed to speed up. There was far too much to do: enroll the kids in Nantucket schools, find temporary housing on the island, put their Malibu house up for sale, sort through their clothing and furniture to decide what to keep and what to throw or give away, and pack up their necessities.
Because the kids were set to begin school the first week of September, it was decided that Alexander would drive the four of them out to Nantucket by himself, while Janie would handle housing matters and prepare the house for at least a few months of vacancy.
They figured it wouldn’t sell immediately, but they were all right with that and wanted a good offer.
On the drive from Los Angeles back to Nantucket, Alexander imagined he was the happiest of all fathers.
Gwen, Conor, and Xander took turns showing their father the music they liked, the artists they’d decided were tied up in their identities, the songs they knew all the words of.
Between sing-alongs, they told him stories about the times he’d missed.
By the time they neared the East Coast, Alexander had begun to think that his children were not only individual and independent and incredible, but perhaps the very best of all children.
Did all parents feel this way? Had Benjamin thought that about his own children?
The topic of Benjamin was never far from Alexander’s mind.
After his confession, Alexander and his sisters tried to call him immediately, but Benjamin had gotten another number and blocked them.
Chloe had discovered that Janie had found the number in her phone, and she’d burst into tears of shock and surprise and run upstairs.
Nina hadn’t known how to handle any of it and had taken her children back to the house on Madequecham Beach to regroup.
Since then, none of them had spoken to Chloe, save for Nina, who reported to Janie that she was “reeling, but okay.” Nina had said, “Chloe hasn’t seen Dad in years.
I have to believe her.” But Alexander still wasn’t sure if he fully trusted Chloe, not after everything.
More than that, he couldn’t fathom why his father had been the one to burn the White Oak Lodge to the ground.
At the end of the news announcement, the one during which Benjamin had confessed, the newscaster had mused, “If Benjamin Whitmore isn’t dead, what can be said about Jack Whitmore and Francesco Whitmore’s brother, Angelo Accetta?”
From there, the internet deduced that none of them had received a proper funeral or obtained death certificates. Mysteries swarmed.
Where were Benjamin Whitmore, Jack Whitmore, and Tio Angelo?
Now that Benjamin had made contact—by way of saving Alexander’s life and career, in a way—Alexander felt a wave of love for his father that he hadn’t in many years. Wherever he was, he was looking out for him. Wherever he was, he wanted to make sure Alexander was safe.
As they boarded the Hyannis Port ferry and stepped onto the top deck to watch the island approach, Alexander was overwhelmed with love for his family. For years, he’d tried to escape it. He threw his arms around his children’s shoulders and breathed in the salty air.
But that was when his phone rang with a call from Charlotte.
“Hey, sis!” he said. “We just boarded the ferry. We’ll see you tonight for dinner, yeah?”
“That sounds great, Al,” she breathed. “I guess I need you here more than ever.” Charlotte sounded tentative and unsure. Alexander’s smile fell.
“What’s up?” he asked, turning away from his children, away from the water.
“Dad just pulled up,” Charlotte said. “I don’t know what to do.”