Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Present Day
R oland had urged Estelle not to hurry back to Nantucket so late on a snowy evening. It meant she was “trapped” on Martha’s Vineyard for the night, cozied up at her friend Margorie Tomlinson’s place. Margorie was the romance novelist who’d accused Estelle of plagiarism last year, launching a multi-pronged attack on Estelle’s career that catapulted both of them to international stardom. Perhaps the fact that they’d so recently been enemies should have kept Estelle away. But in the wake of that horror, she and Margorie had found common ground, frequently renting little cabins on the water in various places for “writing retreats,” talking about characters and story ideas and giving one another advice.
Now, Estelle and Margorie were on the sofa with glasses of red wine and a big bowl of popcorn between them. Estelle was telling Margorie bits and pieces of her lighthouse keeper-themed romance, which Margorie was fascinated by.
“My father-in-law hinted that he has intel on a lighthouse keeper,” Estelle finished, “but he won’t tell me a thing about him! Imagine being ninety-three and gatekeeping all your stories!”
Margorie’s eyes were stormy. “Why would he do that?”
“It’s puzzling,” Estelle agreed, taking a handful of popcorn. “My only theory is that there’s bad blood between him and this lighthouse keeper. He doesn’t want the story to get out?”
“No offense to Chuck, but that’s silly,” Margorie offered. “Both islands know plenty of horrible things about Chuck Coleman. We know plenty of horrible things about everyone else, too. He’s not alone in that. I mean, come on! Just look at what I did to you last year! Everyone knows about that, too.”
“Oh, stop it. You know I don’t care about that anymore. But Chuck’s guilt is pretty powerful, I think,” Estelle agreed, thinking of Chuck’s affair and the ways it dramatically altered the generations to come. “But you’re right. How could whatever happened with the lighthouse keeper be any worse than that?”
“Have you looked into this Clarence lighthouse keeper person?” Margorie asked. “The one Henry talked about?”
“I googled him in your driveway,” Estelle admitted with a laugh. “There isn’t much information. I was thinking I could go to the Martha’s Vineyard Historical Society tomorrow before I get on the ferry.”
“Good idea.” Margorie snapped her fingers.
From upstairs came the sound of Margorie’s fiancé Daniel’s speaker. He was listening to the Beatles. Margorie laughed and said, “Daniel is obsessed with his new athletic regime. He does one hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, and one hundred jumping jacks every day without fail.”
Estelle whistled. “I’m impressed. When did he start?”
“The day after Thanksgiving.” Margorie laughed. “Four days ago.”
“That’s four days longer than I’d keep that up,” Estelle said. “How’s the bookstore?”
Daniel owned and operated a bookstore on Martha’s Vineyard and was, incidentally, best friends with Meghan, Roland’s little half sister. Estelle knew that Margorie, Daniel, Meghan, and Meghan’s husband, Hugo, frequently hung out together, grabbing dinner and going to films. Sometimes Margorie and Daniel were invited to Coleman family parties. They’d been more than welcome on Thanksgiving, but Margorie and Daniel had other plans.
“The bookstore is in the black!” Margorie said, her hands raised in praise. “It was a difficult spring, but as soon as the tourists started swarming in, the books flew off the shelves. Oh! Daniel wants to do another book signing with the two of us if you’re up for that. He was thinking late spring when everyone comes back. Our feud always gives the bookstore a boost.”
“I love selling and signing books!” Estelle said with a laugh. “You know I’d take any excuse to do it with you by my side.”
“You flatter me!” Margorie said with a laugh.
Just then, Estelle’s phone buzzed and buzzed. She hunted through the blanket on the sofa to find it and was surprised to see Chuck’s name. “One second,” she said, snapping up from the sofa to answer it. “Hello?”
Chuck’s breathing was ragged. For a moment, Estelle was really frightened that something was wrong.
“Estelle, hi,” Chuck said finally.
“Are you all right, Chuck?” Estelle tried to keep her voice bright and chipper.
“I’m just fine,” Chuck said. But to Estelle, he sounded as though he’d just seen a ghost. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier today. I feel I wasn’t entirely kind or open with you.”
Estelle furrowed her brow and gave Margorie a look. Margorie raised her eyebrows with curiosity. She mouthed, “What is he saying?”
“It’s really okay,” Estelle said to Chuck. “Like I said in my text, I’ll stop bothering you about the lighthouse keeper. The past is in the past. I can do my own research. It’s better this way, anyway.”
Chuck cleared his throat. Estelle half expected him to hang up the phone.
But then he said, “There’s been a strange development in the story.”
Estelle furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to explain over the phone,” Chuck said.
Estelle stuttered. “I’m still on the Vineyard. I can swing by tomorrow morning if you like?”
“Okay.” Chuck sounded cagey. “I appreciate that, Estelle. Really.” He paused. “I hope you don’t think I’m being a crazy old man.”
“I would never think that,” Estelle promised to head over by eight the following morning. Chuck hung up the phone without saying goodbye.
Estelle gaped at Margorie as her heart pounded.
“What was that about?” Margorie demanded.
“He wants to talk.” Estelle shrugged. “I guess I’ll let him talk?”
Margorie grinned. “It’s all you can do.”
Estelle got up the following morning to have coffee with Margorie and Daniel before they each headed off in their separate directions: Daniel to the bookstore, Margorie to her writing office down the hall, and Estelle to Chuck’s retirement facility to learn about this “strange development” in Chuck’s story. Estelle felt shivery with anticipation. She drank one too many cups of coffee and ate half a blueberry muffin, asking Daniel questions about his bookstore to distract herself.
Estelle parked in the lot in front of the retirement facility and pulled out her phone to see a missed call from Hilary, plus a message that read: I’m just panicking about wedding stuff. I’ll call Sam and blab to her instead! Love you.
Estelle smiled to herself, thinking of the beautiful celebrations in the very near future. She texted back, promising to call later, then raised her chin as she strode into the retirement facility and headed back to Chuck’s suite. En route, she passed the younger woman in the wheelchair, who seemed to stare straight ahead no matter what. It seemed unlikely she could communicate at all.
Chuck opened the door before Estelle had a chance to knock. It felt as though he’d been waiting for her, listening for her footsteps. Estelle was taken aback. He was paler, even more so than yesterday, and it looked as though he’d tugged at his collared shirt so much that it hung off his neck.
“Chuck?” Estelle breathed. “Are you all right?”
Chuck paced back and forth in front of his chair. Estelle wished Roland was here to calm him down. But maybe Chuck didn’t want whatever this was getting back to Roland. Perhaps it was another secret.
“I can’t say,” Chuck offered finally. “But it’s such a funny coincidence, Estelle. It really is.” He stopped short and looked at her. His eyes were bloodshot. “What are the chances she’d appear the same weekend you brought up lighthouses? Something so innocuous as lighthouses?”
Estelle gaped at him. “Who appeared, Chuck?”
Chuck sat down, hung his head, and touched his ears. Estelle considered if she should call a nurse.
“You mentioned the accident in 1982,” Chuck breathed. “The shipwreck.”
Estelle sat down across from him and cupped her knees. She didn’t say anything.
“Clarence Knight was the lighthouse keeper at the time,” Chuck continued. “But he wasn’t the only person in the lighthouse when the ship was sinking. His teenage son, Travis, was there, too. As was I.”
Estelle’s eyes widened.
“When we realized what was happening, Clarence called the Coast Guard, and Clarence and I sped off for the docks to see how we could help. There was a French woman there. She was incredibly upset, obviously, but she was crying so much more than all the others. It took a second to realize what was wrong with her. She told me her daughter was still out there. We sped out into the dark water. I was calling Vivian’s name as loudly as I could. It’s nothing short of a miracle that we found her. But soon after we got back to shore, we realized she’d hit her head hard at some point on the water. She fell into a coma.”
Estelle pressed her hand over her mouth. Chuck’s shoulders began to shake.
“I’ve thought about that night often over the years,” Chuck said. “That night had incredible ramifications for the rest of my life. It’s difficult to explain.” He pressed his lips into a line, and Estelle understood that he wouldn’t be sharing what those ramifications had been. Maybe it was better not to know. “But the other night, a woman was checked into the retirement facility. A woman in a wheelchair. A woman far too young for a place like this.” Chuck’s eyes glinted. “I didn’t want to believe it at first. But now I’m almost one hundred percent clear on the matter. The woman in the wheelchair and the teenage girl we pulled out of the water in 1982 are one and the same. She now has the same last name as the lighthouse keeper and his son. But I don’t know why.”
He raised his head and gazed at Estelle. Estelle had the sensation that she was peering through his eyes and into the past.
“There’s so much about the modern world I don’t understand,” Chuck said. “But I know there are ways to research what happened, where Travis and his father ended up, and why Vivian is here at the retirement home by herself.”
Estelle’s mind opened like a window. He wanted her help.
Chuck extended his hand. “Maybe this is too distracting for you. It might take you too far away from your novel.”
But Estelle shook her head. “It’s too fascinating to walk away from.”
The corners of Chuck’s lips curved upward. “There’s so much I never understood about this story because of what happened in my own,” he said.
Again, Estelle burned with the desire to understand what he meant. What had happened? Back in 1982, Chuck married his second wife and raised ten-year-old Oriana and seven-year-old Meghan. He’d probably been reeling with regret for past mistakes. Whatever drama lurked within Vivian and the shipwreck story probably proved too much for him.
Maybe he’d had to turn his back and tend to his own messes.
Estelle didn’t wait around. She understood that Chuck wanted her to get to the bottom of what happened to Vivian as soon as she could. She promised she’d call Chuck when she knew more and struck back out of his suite, passing by Vivian Knight in her wheelchair. According to Chuck, Vivian had been born in France and, for whatever reason, had been on a ship that had sunk off the coast of Martha’s Vineyard forty-three years ago. She’d been seventeen.
Now, she sat quietly, watching another rom-com as nurses and other folks who lived in the retirement facility milled around her.
It felt like a tragedy.