Chapter 19
Nineteen
The next couple days passed in the blink of an eye.
Sunday’s scorching temperatures had burned off, and a light breeze blew through the air as Connor and I took an early-morning jog on Monday.
I teased him for his incessant yawning, but I suspected it was all for show.
He’d brought his lacrosse stick and only dropped the ball he cradled once.
Just because I’d jokingly elbowed him.
We visited three more places on Annie’s list, this time with Maisie and Bryce in tow. “Thanks, Liv,” my dad had said. “Erica and I could use some time together.”
Yeah, I thought. Some time away from her family…
“You said you were sent this set for free?” I’d heard Peggy say when Erica set up an extremely aesthetic game of Mahjong on the deck yesterday. It was a lot of fun once you grasped the rules. “It looks very expensive.”
“Did you volunteer to post it?” Topper asked. “In exchange for the game?”
“No, Dad,” Erica answered. “After I hosted a Mahjong night with my friends, the company reached out to me about a brand partnership.”
“Oh,” her mom said. “They really paid you?”
Ashley then intervened, as if sensing her aunt was going to lose it. That’s when it sort of struck me: Erica had spent so much time with Annie and Pops, and I couldn’t remember her getting frustrated once. Maybe over a couple little things, but that was it.
Was it because Annie understood her career? And Pops tried his best to? And they both cheered her on, no matter what?
I suddenly wondered if Erica missed my grandmother as much as I did, if she was just trying to stay strong for the twins.
And maybe for me.
Anyway, while she and my dad drove up island for a day alone, Connor ran Maisie and Bryce wild in Oak Bluffs’ sprawling green Ocean Park.
They dodged people spread out on picnic blankets, curved around fountains, and nearly trampled a few flowerbeds—all the while tossing a Frisbee back and forth. He really was good with kids.
Whining, Swede strained at his leash. “Sorry, dude,” I said, gesturing to some magenta flowers. “I just don’t think that hibiscus bush is safe if you’re on the prowl…”
“Can we go back to Nancy’s?” Bryce asked after I’d taken a picture of him and Maisie in front of the park’s big Victorian gazebo, to match Annie’s Polaroid. I wasn’t Annie’s only grandchild, after all. “Those hot dogs were awesome.”
Connor caught my eye, his gaze glinting in the sunlight. “We can…” he started.
“But that means we can’t get cheeseburgers,” I finished.
“Cheeseburgers?” the twins burst out. They loved hot dogs, but burgers held a bigger place in their hearts.
“Yes.” I nodded. “Nick told me about a place.”
If there was one person who knew more about casual Martha’s Vineyard cuisine than Teddy, it was Nick.
“To the Lookout!” Connor cheered.
“To the Lookout!” we echoed.
Swede even barked in agreement.
I hoped they allowed dogs.
* * *
Tuesday found us exploring the popular Martha’s Vineyard Museum (not on Annie’s list, but a Teddy recommendation) and then the Grange Hall in West Tisbury.
Built in 1859, it was the original home of the island’s agricultural society and its annual fair.
I had never seen such a grand barn, and I felt like I’d stepped back in time.
The whole drive I wondered if Annie’s tractor photo had been taken there.
The context didn’t make a lot of sense—her sipping wine in her tennis whites—but maybe the hall had hosted a party of some sort?
I’d read online that they could host weddings.
Annie’s rendering of the Grange Hall was neither a painting nor photo; instead, it was an intricate ink sketch.
In both the drawing and real life, it looked more like a Victorian cottage than the quintessential red barn—cedar-shingled with an angled roof, wide front porch, and white fretwork details at the top of the porch columns and eaves.
“This is incredible,” Connor commented, and while I nodded, I couldn’t really focus on the hall.
Of course there was no John Deere tractor, but even the topography didn’t seem to be the same.
There were no sandy dirt trails, no car-worn grass, and no distinctly wind-whipped trees.
How am I going to find this place? I wondered, feeling a twinge.
By visiting every single farm on the island?
Why hadn’t Annie included the location in her caption? “Summer Camp” told me absolutely nothing.
“You’re very quiet,” Connor observed on the way home. He had one hand on the steering wheel and the other on my knee. Every few heartbeats, I had to remind myself to breathe. I usually liked his easy affection, but right now it felt a little much. “Everything okay?”
“Uh-huh.” I took his hand off my leg and lazily threaded our fingers together. “I just need to call Annie when we get back. It’s been a while.”
Connor squeezed my fingers. “You can use my humble abode,” he said. “If you want some privacy.”
I smiled at him. I had discovered the walls of my little reading room were thin; I heard every step taken in the hallway, along with every faucet turning in the bathroom across the way.
I did call Annie not long after we got home and was still thinking about the call the next day, during an afternoon playing “musical board games.” Scrabble, Monopoly, Clue, chess, and Chutes and Ladders were set up in the living room, and after playing one game for ten minutes, Peggy instructed us to switch to someone else’s seat at another game.
I’d just abandoned Colonel Mustard to take up my dad’s Scrabble letters. He had four E’s.
As I contemplated my next word, I thought back to what she’d said. “What did you say your name was again?” she asked mid-conversation. I’d been telling her about lunch at the Lookout Tavern. Bryce had chugged a glass of milk after dumping Tabasco on his burger.
“Olivia,” I said. “It’s Olivia.”
“Oh, how pretty,” she said dreamily. “My gr—and—daugh—ter’s name is O—wiv—ia.”
Phone pressed against my ear, I closed my eyes. Hearing Annie trip over her words wasn’t new, but she’d never fumbled my name before.
I told myself that my grandmother was just exhausted. Tara had mentioned Annie hadn’t slept well the past few nights. Then she insisted on getting up at 6:00 a.m.
“Your turn, Olivia,” someone said, and I blinked to make eye contact with Ashley. She smiled gently at me from across the table, and I noticed she had just spelled out “bisque” on the board. I glanced down at my letters, having nothing prepared.
“Where is that SAT vocabulary, Miss Lupo?” Beth teased, but when I managed to use two of my dad’s stockpiled e’s to form “exuberant,” stealing the lead, she excused herself to refill her iced tea.
“My mother can certainly dish it out,” Ashley commented when it was just us, “but she can’t always take it.” She laughed as she jotted down my triple-word-score points. I love exuberant. It’s what my grandfather-in-law always called Teddy.”
I shifted in my seat, “grandfather-in-law” ringing a bell loud and clear. The whole reason Connor was here this summer was because Ashley was helping her husband care for his Alzheimer’s-ridden grandfather. Did she know about Annie? Had Erica told her? They seemed pretty close.
“Exuberant definitely sounds like Teddy,” I tried to smile, then snuck in, “My grandmother has called Maisie spirited ever since the twins were born. Bryce is lively.” I shrugged. “I guess there’s a distinction.”
Ashley’s nod was thoughtful. “And what about you? How does she describe her eldest granddaughter?”
“A snot,” I said before I could stop myself, eyes welling up. “She called me a snot.”
Yesterday, I’d hung up with less tact than usual.
Bryce had started knocking on the door, asking me to play croquet with everyone, and as awful as it sounded, I found myself itching to end the call.
And it must’ve been obvious. “You’re such a little snot, Ophelia,” Annie had said, disdain in her voice.
“Wanting to say goodbye as soon as you have something better to do.”
“Well,” Ashley said after I told her. “Technically, she called Ophelia a snot, not you.” She gave me a sympathetic look, one that signaled she was in the know about Annie. “You know that woman calling you a snot is not your grandmother, right? It’s the disease?”
“Yeah.” I tried to blink away my hot tears. “I do, of course I do, but…” A lump rose in my throat. “Sometimes telling myself that doesn’t help.”
“I know.” Ashley reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “Believe me, I know.” Her voice dipped to a whisper. “I would give almost anything to hear Ed call Teddy exuberant again.” She smiled faintly. “And Finn noble.”
We sat there in silence together, until Beth returned with a fresh pitcher of iced tea. “Alright, alright, alright,” she said in a McConaughey drawl. It made me smile a bit. “You ladies better buckle up for a dramatic comeback…”
* * *
As much as I wished it would leave, my melancholy stayed with me the rest of the day, until Nick mentioned a bonfire after dinner. “We’re leaving in five,” he told me as Encanto was cued up for the twins. “Connor’s grabbing sweatshirts!”
It was him, Sage, Connor, and me. We climbed into the Boston Whaler with blankets and some beers and started across Oyster Pond.
I could see the fire burning bright in the distance, and once we made it to the beach, I heard the crackle itself.
It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Connor slipping his arm around me didn’t help.
A shiver swirled up my spine.
Beach blankets and chairs surrounded the fire; I recognized some members of the Fox family, but not others. Meredith sat in between her grandparents with a little dog asleep on her lap, and Christian Fox was intensely focused on a card game with his grandson.
I felt a twinge, thinking of Annie, Maisie, and their Sunday rummy games.