Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Nina
June 2025
N ever in Nina’s wildest dreams had she imagined pulling up to “Seth Green’s” house and finding her sister Charlotte at the door. Never had she imagined throwing her arms around her and sobbing with the kind of power and fear that only children were allowed—sobbing at all the time they’d lost and how little she understood. Suddenly, Charlotte was guiding her through the foyer and into the living room, where she sat Nina and Amos on a soft-as-satin sofa and hurried to the kitchen to make tea.
“We might need something stronger!” Nina called, half laughing, half crying.
Beside her on the sofa, Amos looked dumbfounded. Under his breath, he asked, “Is this proof that Seth Green is really…?”
Nina returned with three glasses and a bottle of wine. “It’s gorgeous outside,” she said. “Should we sit on the veranda?”
Nina studied Charlotte’s face, gazing into her eyes for some sense of what Charlotte’s life had been like. She wore no wedding ring, and it seemed as though she were staying at the bungalow by herself. For weeks, Nina had been on Nantucket. Had she been just a short drive from her sister all this time?
They sat on the veranda under a big navy-blue umbrella and were so surprised at the turn of events that they completely forgot to clink glasses before they started to drink.
“Nina,” Charlotte whispered, reaching for her hand. “You’re such a beautiful woman. It’s incredible to see you like this.”
“Older than eleven, you mean?” Nina tried to joke.
Charlotte leaned back in her chair and grimaced. Nina remembered she’d tried to look Charlotte up on the internet but had come up with nothing.
“Doesn’t Seth Green own this house?” Nina asked.
Charlotte’s smile widened. “Who told you that name?”
Nina was suddenly frightened. How did she know she could trust Charlotte? Then again, what did she have to lose by trusting her? If Charlotte started lying to her now, Nina would get to the root of it later on. She’d use the lies as proof of something, more pieces of a puzzle she was trying to put together. She took Amos’s hand and squeezed.
“A mutual friend,” Amos answered for her.
A look of worry passed over Charlotte’s face. “When did you get back to the island?”
“A couple of weeks ago,” Nina said. “You?”
“I’ve been here for a few months. Or maybe it’s been a year. Time flies,” Charlotte said.
“Are you here all by yourself?” Nina asked.
“Sometimes,” Charlotte said. She side-eyed Amos and said, “I recognize you, I think.”
“We went to high school together,” Amos said. “I was two years younger, I think.”
“Jack’s year,” Charlotte said. She snapped her fingers. “Amos, right?” And then she said, “How on earth did you two meet?”
But very suddenly, Nina reached the end of her rope on this false, funny, pretend-nice conversation. It was clear they were all holding cards close to their chests.
What was Charlotte hiding?
Nina came out with it with the power and know-how she’d once displayed as an up-and-coming anthropologist. “Listen,” she said, “we know this is Jack’s house.”
Charlotte’s face looked as though it was about to melt. She leaned forward and whispered, “You shouldn’t get involved in this, Nina.”
“So Jack isn’t dead?” Nina asked. Her heart seized.
“I didn’t say that,” Charlotte said. “You know he’s dead. We all know he’s dead.”
“There are no death certificates, not for him or for Dad. Not for Tio Angelo either.”
Charlotte screwed up her face.
“Why is that?” Nina pressed it. “I can’t understand why the newspapers and the police would lie. Unless one of the cops was paid off? Unless money was involved?”
“I mean, money was always involved,” Charlotte said, half rolling her eyes. “It’s the story of the Whitmores. Money is always involved.”
Nina’s stomach thrashed. After moments of euphoria with her newfound sister, she was crashing hard.
“Where have you been?” Nina demanded suddenly.
Charlotte looked down.
“You know that I was raised in Michigan? You know I was raised by Great-Aunt Genevieve? You know that after that night, nobody ever called?” Nina’s pulse quickened. “I lost my entire family in a flash. I lost everything. I was just a kid.”
Charlotte couldn’t look at her. Tears filled her eyes. “We couldn’t bring you, honey. You didn’t want to come with us, anyway. Mom was a mess. For years, she was a mess.”
“Was?” Nina asked, suddenly petrified. Was Francesca dead? She’d spent so many years loving her as the mother who’d left her, and Nina wasn’t sure she could face saying goodbye like this.
“Mom isn’t dead,” Charlotte said. “She’s just, you know. Dramatic. A therapist of mine called her a narcissist. I don’t know what to believe.”
Nina let silence ring between them. “I found out that my ex-husband married me to get to the Whitmore treasure, or something like that. We’ve been married for thirteen years.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Who told him about it?”
Nina balked. “The money isn’t real,” she said. “Is it?”
Charlotte raised her shoulders. “Every year that passes makes me more confused about the Whitmores and what they’re hiding. You’re another element of that, I guess. Showing up at my door like this. I feel like I’m going out of my mind.”
“You mean, showing up at Seth Green’s door,” Amos interrupted.
“Yes. Of course.” Charlotte put her face in her hands. “Seth Green.” Her voice was laced with sarcasm.
Suddenly Nina was on her knees in front of her sister. She was reminded of hundreds of sunny days, when Charlotte and Nina would spin and spin on the sand and run into the water. Charlotte was eight years her senior, which had made them four and twelve, six and fourteen, until Charlotte had fully grown up and left Nina to herself. How Nina had missed her! How Nina had missed her playmate! Jack had been her substitute, but then Jack had grown up, too.
“I’m not here to trick you out of any treasure. I don’t care about money at all,” Nina whispered. “I’m just here to understand. I want to know what happened to Jack, and to Dad, and to Tio Angelo.”
Charlotte’s shoulders shook as she answered, “I’m here to understand, too.”
Nina’s voice brightened. “So maybe we should help each other get to the bottom of this?”
Charlotte nodded. “Maybe we should.”
Nina returned to her chair. A massive seagull swooped overhead, eyeing them and cawing out.
“I know Mom isn’t my real mom,” Nina offered, breaking the silence.
Charlotte smiled softly. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg, honey.”
Amos raised his glass of wine, and Nina watched as the sunlight danced through its reflections. Her heart was bruised and aching with confusion. But she’d promised herself she’d keep digging. And in finding Charlotte, she’d struck gold.