Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Amos
June 2025
A fter the second evening in a row with Nina, Amos returned to his cabin and almost immediately fell asleep in his armchair with his dog in his lap. It was a fitful sleep, one that left him twitching and muttering to himself. It was also one rife with dreams—some of which were memories.
In one of the dreams, it was the summer of 1997, and Amos was sixteen. With his father long dead, he and his mother were strapped for cash, working odd jobs here and there, counting pennies before they went to the grocery store. Oftentimes at night, Amos heard his mother crying in her bedroom, praying for a change in luck he felt sure would never come. Because so many other teens at Nantucket High were wealthy, from families who made their millions via summertime tourism, Amos was perpetually the odd man out, awkward and quiet at beach parties. But because he was often funny, telling jokes to people in the corner, smiling in a way that showed how kind his spirit was, many people took a shine to him. One of those people was Jack Whitmore.
One afternoon, Jack invited him out sailing with a few other buddies of his from high school. Miraculously, Amos wasn’t scheduled to work that day, and he fought his instinct to ask to work other people’s shifts, deciding it was time to give himself a day off. He didn’t tell his mother because he knew she hated all the wealthy people on the island, and because he knew he was more or less letting her down by not making money every single second. She kissed him goodbye and thanked him for all the work he was doing for them. “We’ll get out of this hole soon,” she said.
But Amos knew there was no way out of the hole. They’d been born into it, and they would die in it, and that was just the way things were.
It was thrilling to be out on the sailboat. Amos knew his way around the vessel and how to tie the ropes and tilt the sails because he’d worked on a few wealthy people’s yachts a few years back, but he didn’t yet know how to sail for pleasure. He watched the others for clues: drinking champagne, discussing where they were applying for college, and talking about the girls they were dating or the girls they wanted to break up with in order to date other girls. When Amos didn’t talk for too long, Jack swooped in to ask him a question about his dating life and jobs, and Amos did his best to answer with good humor. Twice, he made the entire group laugh.
At the end of the day, Jack invited him to the White Oak Lodge that weekend to do some work. “My dad has a few odd jobs to do, and he always wants me to do them in half the time,” Jack explained. “He’ll be happy to pay extra to get them done quicker.”
Amos was pleased. He told Jack he could swing by the lodge after his morning shift on Saturday and thanked him.
“Don’t thank me,” Jack said. “You’re doing me a favor. Not the other way around.”
Amos knew this wasn’t true, but he didn’t say so.
Saturday, feeling skittish, Amos drove out to the White Oak Lodge and parked a few yards away from one of the nicest cars he’d ever seen—a Jaguar from the fifties, which belonged to Benjamin Whitmore. When he stepped out of his truck, he looked toward the lodge to see some of the most beautiful people strewn across the veranda, sunning or hiding from the sun, drinking cocktails, letting the hours drizzle by. One of them was Francesca Whitmore, Jack’s beautiful Italian mother and the daughter of an iconic Italian director who arty people talked about. Francesca put her hand over her eyebrows and peered out at him, as though she was trying to understand why some poor loser had pulled up in a pickup truck.
“Amos!” Jack strolled toward him wearing a pair of overalls and a white T-shirt and smacked him on the back with one hand as he shook his hand with his other. “Glad you could make it, man.”
The work was not exactly titillating and involved cleaning two jewel-tinted pools and no fewer than seven horse stables. Amos opened his ears to his surroundings as he went, trying to make sense of this world so far above his own. When he emerged from the horse stalls, he watched a slender and wealthy woman in a riding outfit stomp across the sand to get to him, her face pinched. In an English accent, she said to Amos, “You wouldn’t believe my husband. Imagine! The nerve of some people! Oh, but isn’t it my fault? I’m the one who married for money. Or so my mother says. As though I don’t have an MBA! As though I couldn’t have done all of this on my own.” She breezed past Amos and went directly to a sleek black horse toward the back, to whom she spoke gently as she rubbed his nose. “Don’t do it like me,” she said, speaking maybe to Amos or maybe to the horse, Amos couldn’t tell. “Don’t get involved with someone who hates you just because he says you’re too pretty to give up.”
Amos watched from the stables as the woman rode the horse down the beach, her blond hair shining. He thought, I will never understand the world of the wealthy .
And then he heard a voice behind him. “What a performance, hmm?”
Amos whipped around. He’d thought he was alone at the stables. But a forty-ish dark-haired man emerged from the shadows, smoking a cigarette with a jewel-lit tip. He was olive-skinned and spoke with a lilting accent that made Amos think of Europe. Maybe he was related to Francesca somehow. But how had he gotten into the stables? Was there another entrance? Amos took a small step back and cursed himself for being so afraid.
“You’re Jack’s friend,” the man said, twisting his heel over his cigarette to squash it.
Friend? That was a stretch. But Amos nodded and said, “I’m doing some work today for the hotel.”
“That you are. And you’ve done incredible work,” the man continued. “I’ve been watching.”
Amos’s cheeks were hot. He hated the idea that someone had been watching him. But in a luxury hotel like this, it probably wasn’t a stretch to say you were perpetually watched.
“Thank you, sir,” Amos said.
The man waved his hand and looked him dead in the eye. “I have a question for you. Would you like to see something incredible?”
Amos furrowed his brow and remembered what else remained on his to-do list for the lodge. He didn’t have time to mosey. But if this man really was related to Francesca, he couldn’t afford to be rude to him. So he said, “Of course. Yeah.”
Amos followed the man from the stables to what the man explained was the “family entrance” of the house. “This is where we live,” the man said in a singsong. “All together, big happy family. The Whitmores!” He scoffed.
“So you’re related to them?” Amos asked. He wanted to make conversation. He wanted to feel not so strange.
The man didn’t answer and instead opened the unlocked door to reveal a white-walled kitchen with glossy drapes. A little girl was sitting at the table with a glass of milk. She was reading. Was this another of the Whitmores? There were so many of them that it was often hard to keep track. But the man went over and touched the girl’s head, saying, “Can I get you anything, Nina?” When Nina said no, the man gestured for Amos to continue to follow him into the heart of the house. Soon they were in a long, shadowy hallway. The man explained that it was the hallway that divided the main house with the hotel, that it had been especially useful during the early days of the lodge, when whalers and outdoorsmen had stayed there during deep winter. Amos was intrigued. He was also deeply freaked out and aware that he’d followed a stranger into a dark hallway from which he wasn’t sure he would ever emerge. But I’m bigger than this guy , Amos reminded himself. He swallowed.
Suddenly, they stood before a door. The man unlocked it to reveal a deep and inky darkness. A staircase shot down into the depths, and there was the smell of something rotten.
“Well?” the man asked. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”
After that, Amos woke up so violently that Monty started barking. Amos was slick with sweat. “I’m sorry, buddy,” he muttered to the dog, then got up and poured himself a glass of water. Drinking it, he reminded himself of who he was, where he was, and what age he was. It’s 2025, he thought. You aren’t sixteen anymore. You aren’t even really that broke anymore. You own this cabin. You have a dog. You have a life.
But all night, he shivered with nerves. He didn’t want to plunge back into that dark abyss. He didn’t want to go back to the past.
Despite all that, Amos had agreed to go with Nina to Martha’s Vineyard to meet Ralph, and Amos wasn’t the kind of guy to back out of a promise. Five days after their phone call with Calvin, he and Nina met up at the port to take the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. Amos hadn’t seen Nina since then, and he’d hated how painful it had felt to get ready to see her. He’d labored over fashion decisions and used gel in his hair. Nina looked suntanned and beautiful.
Amos suggested that he drive since he knew Martha’s Vineyard roads very well, and Nina agreed, saying, “I’m too nervous to drive anyway.” In the pickup, she pulled the photograph of maybe-Jack and Ralph out of her bag and gazed down at it.
Amos wondered what she’d been up to since the last time they’d seen one another but wasn’t sure how to ask.
On the ferry, they got out of the pickup for a few minutes and wandered the deck to feel the sun on their faces. Amos searched his mind for something to say, anything to break the silence.
“Have you been enjoying the island life?” He immediately cursed himself for sounding so juvenile.
Nina smiled at him in a way that made him think she was grateful. “I’ve been trying to. I took a few academic books to a beach and fell asleep instead of reading them.” She laughed at herself. “A year ago, I would have been in a dark room, reading obsessively and taking notes. But I can’t find it in me right now.”
“You have a lot on your mind,” Amos said.
“Yes,” Nina agreed. “And, you know, I miss my kids. I really miss them. Usually when I’m away from them, I’m at a tribe somewhere in the Andes, working tirelessly on research that I think will in some way further my career. But right now, I’m in Nantucket, trying to further my understanding of my messed-up family. I’m not sure I’m in the right place.”
“I think you’re doing the right thing,” Amos said. “You’ve been curious about that photograph forever. It’s better to know.”
Nina clenched her jaw.
Amos wondered if she knew anything about the door that led into the darkness—the one he’d dreamed about that he knew in his bones had once been real.
He wondered if what lay beneath the White Oak Lodge remained.
The ferry reached Martha’s Vineyard. Amos drove them down the ramp and out of Oakland and into Chilmark, one of the wealthier districts of the Vineyard, where, it seemed, Ralph had decided to build his last and forever home. It was his post-restaurateur home, the home that illustrated how dramatic and charmed his life had been thus far. When Amos and Nina pulled up in front of an iron-laced gate, Amos heard Nina take a dramatic breath.
“Wow,” she said.
It was one of the most immaculate mansions Amos had ever seen. As the gate cracked open and brought them deeper into Ralph’s world, Amos’s anxiety simmered. This was certainly nowhere he belonged. And because Nina was no longer really a Whitmore—not really—this was far beyond what she knew, as well. Amos cut the engine and looked at Nina, half expecting her to say they should bail. But she’d already gotten out of the truck and swept her hair behind her shoulders. Amos followed.
Before they reached the front door, a man Amos recognized as Ralph careened outside wearing nothing but swim shorts. He was tan and long-limbed and smiling. “You’re early!” he said although Amos knew they were right on time.
Nina smiled and laughed openly and said, “I’m terribly sorry. Are we interrupting?”
“Of course not.” Ralph seemed not to mind that they’d caught him in swim trunks. Maybe this was how he entertained all of his guests. “You’re Nina? And Amos?” Ralph’s handshake was firm. “Follow me out to the veranda. We’ve got ourselves quite a view.”
What little Amos saw of Ralph’s home made him realize just how bonkers Ralph’s taste was. He had money to spend on things like a six-foot-tall statue of the red candy M&M man and a signed poster of Pamela Anderson. Nina avoided Amos’s eyes, and Amos let himself believe it was because she thought they might burst into laughter.
On the veranda, Ralph made no motion to put on a shirt and folded his hands on his chest. “Nina, you said on the phone you’re a Plymouth? Any relation to the Jersey Plymouths?”
Nina smiled. “My husband is Daniel Plymouth.”
Ralph snapped his fingers. “I know his parents, I think. Deborah and Mike?”
“My in-laws!” Nina declared in a fake way. “Small world!”
“It really is,” Ralph said. “What brings you to the Vineyard? Calvin said his pal Amos was one to watch out for.” Ralph looked at him and added, “He said you’re a blast and a half.”
Amos had been known to go out with Calvin for beers, but nobody would have ever referred to him as “a blast and a half” unless they were trying to amp up his reputation for a reason. Calvin wanted Ralph to think Amos was truly great. He wanted to help him.
“Calvin can’t drink to save his life,” Amos quipped.
Ralph cackled and smacked his leg. “Speaking of, shall we?” He snapped his fingers, and a drink cart was rolled out to meet them. The woman behind it looked exhausted in a way that Amos understood in his bones. Wanting to be a blast and a half, Amos ordered a cocktail, while Nina stuck with white wine. Ralph copied Amos’s drink and raised it to cheer them.
“It’s so good to be out of the restaurant game,” Ralph said, “but I have to admit, I get bored. The stress has completely gone out of my life. What am I supposed to live for?”
“You can have my stress, if you want it,” Amos said, trying to buzz with the personality Calvin had said he had. “It’s for sale.”
“I don’t know if I can afford it!” Ralph said, cackling again, because it was clear he could afford anything and everything he could want in the world.
In the pickup, Nina and Amos talked about laying the foundation of friendship before Nina pulled out the photograph and revealed herself as a thief and a Whitmore. For more than an hour, they talked about Ralph’s restaurants, Nina’s career in anthropology, and Ralph’s decision to leave Nantucket. After another half hour, Nina confessed to getting divorced soon, and Amos’s pulse quickened.
“Divorce! Ah, what a tragedy,” Ralph said, shaking his head. “I went through four of them myself.”
“Four! Wow.” Nina’s eyebrows crept up her forehead.
“I know. People asked me why I kept trying. You know why? I’m a romantic to my core. I like making big promises to myself and others,” Ralph said, gesturing to his bartender for another round of drinks.
“Any advice about getting married?” Amos asked.
“I take it you never have?” Ralph asked.
Amos shook his head. “It never came up.”
Ralph laughed. “Lucky man.”
But Amos didn’t feel quite so lucky to have never been married before. It felt like something other people were allowed to do, something “ordinary” people always got around to. He wasn’t ordinary. He wasn’t worthy of love.
“Advice?” Ralph thought for a moment, his eyes pointed at the sky. “I think you have to give yourself over to something bigger. You have to set aside your selfish ideals. I don’t know. I think I was never fully capable of that, which is maybe why none of those marriages worked out.” He shrugged.
Nina furrowed her brow and nodded. “I think there’s something to that.”
Ralph got up to pour them all shots. “Let’s stop moaning about the past and look to the future! Like, you two! You’re a gorgeous couple. A gorgeous, brand-new couple. A new hope.”
Amos nearly had a heart attack. But Nina took it in stride, saying, “Right, it’s still new, but it’s so good to be out there again. My ex-husband was having an affair, and you know, he ignored me a lot over the past several years. I felt invisible.”
Amos knew that Nina had played along with what Ralph thought for reasons unrelated to attraction to him. But the fact that she hadn’t immediately said, What? Him? No! warmed his stomach. His smile felt loose and easy. He wondered if he’d ever spent so much time with such a beautiful woman. He fought the urge to reach out and touch her hand, which sat so wonderfully on the table, her fingers long, her nails shining.
“Hats off to you, Amos,” Ralph said. “You’ve got yourself a class A girl.”
“I know it,” Amos said.
“Don’t mess it up like I did,” Ralph said, showing all of his teeth.
Amos remembered what Calvin had said about taking Ralph out, which was why he suggested they go to a swanky bar just outside of Chilmark for the night. Ralph was electrified. “Do you know the last time I went out? It’s been months!” He ran upstairs and emerged five minutes later in chinos and an immaculate white button-down shirt. His incredibly expensive cologne was almost overpowering.
Ralph’s driver took them to the bar and dropped them off. Amos knew they’d have to find a place to spend the night on the Vineyard, but suspected that Ralph would offer them a room if they didn’t enrage him later on. Probably just one room , Amos thought, both panicked and excited.
The bar was incredibly ornate and usually reserved for the upper-upper-elite of Vineyard celebrities who graced the island every year. Because it was still rather early in the season, and because Ralph was a beloved and wealthy local, they were given a table on the veranda right away. It was nearly seven thirty, and Ralph ordered them expensive tapas and another round of drinks, plus a bottle of champagne. “We’re celebrating!” he called, but Amos had no idea what they were celebrating. Maybe Ralph’s life was one big party.
It wasn’t till the tapas were scraped clean and the bottle of champagne was empty that Nina tapped a napkin over her mouth and said, “Ralph, I was hoping you could answer a question for me.”
Ralph’s eyes lit up, and he clapped his hands. “Anything, my darling. I want to talk about it all.”
Nina reached for her purse, pulled out a thick academic book, and opened it to reveal the photograph. The minute it rested on the table between her and Ralph, Ralph’s eyes shifted, and his smile fell. He picked it up and studied it for a long time before he said, “Where did you get this?”
Nina tilted her head and lied. “I found it at a flea market in Boston.”
Ralph arched his eyebrow in a way that suggested he didn’t believe her. “Who told you it was me in this photograph?” He tapped on the young man displayed in 2002—a man pre-four-divorces, pre-wealth.
“A friend recognized you,” Nina lied. “A friend from Nantucket. I’m from there originally.”
“I see.”
Nina seemed unprepared to give away her last name.
“This was a wonderful day,” Ralph said, giving himself over to nostalgia. “We took the boat out for several days and camped on the beach. We were like one big family. Oh, and see this woman here?” He pointed at a blond woman on the right-hand side. “She became my first wife. She took a big chunk out of my money when we broke up. C’est la vie, huh?”
“She’s beautiful,” Nina said.
“They all were.” Ralph brought the photo closer to his face, then said, “You didn’t want to see me just to return an old photograph.”
“No. You’re right,” Nina agreed. “I wanted to see you because I think I know one of the men in the photograph, and I’d like to find him.”
Ralph put the photo down and said, “What’s his name?”
Nina looked momentarily panicked, then put her finger right above maybe-Jack’s image and said, “Him.”
Ralph’s eyes stirred with questions. “You mean Seth Green.”
Nina didn’t give away any disappointment. “I mean Seth Green. Have you seen him around lately?”
“I haven’t seen him in maybe five years,” Ralph explained. “Back when this photo was taken, he was traveling all over the place for work and, you know, not making our friendship much of a priority. I always knew he was on his way out.”
“What was his job?” Nina asked.
“He did a little bit of everything, that guy,” Ralph said. “I think he had a lot of bosses above him, people who had him surveying the imports and exports of things. Gosh, who knows how anyone makes a living in this day and age, huh?”
Amos’s heart thumped. Seth Green, he wanted to say aloud to Nina. It isn’t him. But then again, if Jack wanted to fake his own death and take on a new name, wasn’t Seth Green sort of fake-sounding?
Ralph snapped his fingers. “But if I remember correctly, he’s got a place in Nantucket still. A place he holes up in from time to time.”
Nina tilted her head forward. “Where is that place?”
Ralph said, “It’s a little house not far from Madequecham Beach. I only went to it the one time. Must have been ten or so years ago.”
Ralph looked introspective. Nina looked on the verge of demanding exact coordinates.
Ralph coughed, returning to himself, and asked, “So you saw this photograph and wanted to find Seth Green? You wanted it so desperately that you tracked me down?”
Nina laughed at herself and brought out an already worn excuse. “You know how anthropologists are. We can’t leave any stone unturned.”
Ralph clapped his hands. “Watch yourself, Amos. She’s a tricky one.”
Amos took a sip of beer and studied Nina’s face, wishing he could tune into what she was thinking. But all he said was, “Don’t I know it?”
He wished Ralph would leave them alone so he could talk to her. But he knew they had to get through the rest of the night.