Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
March 2025 - Nantucket Island
I t was the weekend after the elementary school concert. From the room he’d decided to make his office upstairs, Ryan listened as Trisha woke up the kids, knocking on their doors gently and saying, “Who wants breakfast?” in a tone that made his heart ache. Since the incident at the concert—when Trisha had called out his mother for her embarrassment over Willa and their entire family—Trisha had been especially icy. She hadn’t even slept in their bed last night. She felt like a stranger.
Ryan still wore his pajamas and was trying to get in another few hours of work before he pledged his time and energy to his family. On the screen of his laptop, he’d pulled up numerous screenshots, spreadsheets, contracts, and emails from the now two clients who’d dropped him abruptly and purchased homes in Martha’s Vineyard instead. There didn’t seem to be anything in common between the two clients. How had the real estate agent Sarah Strong gotten to them? Had she purposely dragged them away from Sutton Real Estate? Ryan’s head buzzed.
Finally, he texted his mother.
RYAN: I think we should go to Martha’s Vineyard and ask some questions.
Jackie sent back a thumbs-up.
JACKIE: Any chance the kids would want to go to the Sutton Book Club this afternoon? There’s a kids reading event. Maybe it’s too old for Gavin, but there are also plenty of teen books there.
Ryan pressed his lips together. He knew his mother wanted as much time as she could get with the grandkids, and he knew, more than that, that she wanted to resolve things with Trisha. But the past felt like a permanent shadow, darkening even the sunniest of Jackie’s attempts.
RYAN: Good idea. I’ll ask.
Downstairs, Willa, Gavin, and Rudy were at the kitchen table over platters of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. The smells were intoxicating. Trisha looked beautiful in her soft robe, one Ryan had gotten for her during happier and more prosperous days. She didn’t make eye contact when he came in. He had an instinct to ask, Would you rather be in that crappy kitchen back in Chicago? But he swallowed it down.
He knew her answer was yes. She’d rather be in Chicago. She’d rather be destitute than take anything from the Suttons.
Had Ryan forced her to come here? Would she ever forgive him for that?
Right now, memories of when they’d hatched a plan to move to Chicago felt foggy in his mind. It felt as though they’d been concoctions made by two bright-eyed teenagers (rather than a twenty-five and twenty-one-year-old).
“Hi, Daddy!” Willa cried happily, breaking his reverie.
“Hi, honey. Hi, Rudy. Hi, Gavin.” Ryan sat down beside his daughter and grabbed a plate. “Mom made a beautiful breakfast. Did you thank her for it?”
“Did you?” Gavin asked, his voice tinged with teenage attitude.
“You’re right.” Ryan raised his chin to look at his wife. “This looks really good, honey. Thank you.”
Trisha only looked at Gavin, Willa, and Rudy when she said, “It’s my pleasure.”
Ryan felt awkwardness drape itself across the table. A rogue thought fell into his stomach. If he didn’t make enough money at Sutton Real Estate, they’d have to move, and he didn’t know where they’d end up. If he didn’t make enough money at Sutton Real Estate, he would have failed his family—and Trisha—yet again.
He had to figure this out.
Ryan knew better than to bring up the Sutton Book Club with the kids around. He waited till Willa, Rudy, and Gavin were hanging in the living room, watching cartoons. He piled dishes into the dishwasher and scrubbed the skillet while Trisha took a washcloth to the kitchen table.
A male Sutton has never cleaned up in this kitchen , Ryan thought. He knew his grandfather had certainly never washed a dish in his life. Grandma Dana and the other mothers had always been in here by themselves, gossiping and laughing while the men watched television or went outside to talk about sports.
“Mom asked about taking the kids to the Sutton Book Club today,” Ryan said finally, then braced himself.
“What’s that again?” Trisha eyed him.
“It’s a sort of community center and library,” Ryan said. “My aunt Esme runs it.”
“Aunt Esme? The woman your uncle Victor left for his secretary? That Aunt Esme?”
Ryan grimaced. That drama had happened before he’d gotten together with Trisha, but the evil of that particular family lore had remained lodged in her memory.
“One and the same. Apparently, they’re back together,” Ryan offered.
Trisha’s mouth hung open. “You’re kidding.”
For a moment, Trisha seemed to forget that she was angry with him and at the world. Her eyes echoed her curiosity. “Come on. Tell me.”
Ryan explained what he knew—that Rebecca, Bethany, and Valerie were back after years away; that Esme and Victor had helped Valerie move back to Nantucket and in the process had talked out their differences and fallen back in love again.
Trisha continued to look at Ryan as though she’d never seen him before.
It was as though she’d never fathomed that that level of forgiveness was possible.
“I was thinking,” Ryan pushed it, “that my mom could take the kids to the Sutton Book Club, and we could go to that little wine bar by the harbor?”
The idea struck him all at once.
Trisha tilted her head and continued to look him in the eye. Ryan let his arms hang at his sides. He felt like saying, I’m doing my best. I still love you. I hope you see that. But he felt incapable.
Trisha sniffed. “Let’s go to the Book Club together and see what it’s like. If Willa’s happy there, maybe we can mosey down the block. Maybe.”
It felt like the first good news Ryan had received in years.
He said, “It’s a deal.”
That afternoon, the five of them drove to the Historical District and parked a block down from the ornate mansion that housed the Sutton Book Club—a gift from Aunt Esme’s father Thomas to Esme and her family of six. Jackie was waiting for them out front and hugged each of her grandchildren. “We better get inside before it starts,” she said.
Aunt Esme was stationed at the big library desk in the back of the first floor of the Sutton Book Club. Just as Ryan remembered her, she wore a pair of spectacles that gave her away as a big reader, and as she greeted each incoming child, her smile was joyous. Of course, she was older now, weathered, with gray hair that popped out in adorable curls around her head.
“Ryan!” she cried. “Is this your family?”
Ryan blushed. Sometimes he felt he needed to pinch himself to remember just how lucky he was to have a family in the first place. Some couples tried and tried to get pregnant. Some couples were never given that gift.
“This is Gavin, Willa, and Rudy,” he introduced them. “Willa and Rudy are going to attend the reading, I think? And Gavin will be upstairs.”
Gavin put back on his headphones, waved, and went upstairs, where, Ryan guessed, he’d burrow himself in a podcast or an album and forget the world for a little while. Increasingly, Gavin was a mystery. Ryan guessed that Gavin was a mystery to himself, as well. As a teenager, your job was to discover who you were. It was no easy task.
Suddenly, Aunt Esme threw her arms around him. It took Ryan by such surprise that he started laughing.
“It’s just so good to have you back on Nantucket,” Esme said. “How long has it been?”
“Fourteen years,” he said, eyeing Trisha.
Esme turned to Trisha. “I wasn’t around anymore when you were married,” Esme said. “It’s lovely to meet you, finally.”
“You as well,” Trisha said, her smile genuine and filled with light.
“How is the transition back to Nantucket?” Esme asked.
“It’s not so easy,” Trisha admitted.
Esme nodded. “My daughters returned after many, many years away. It hasn’t been easy for them, either. Maybe you should call them up? You’d probably have a lot to say to one another.”
Trisha looked doubtful. If Ryan had to guess, Trisha was thinking, I don’t need any more Suttons in my life—even the Suttons who got away.
“That sounds nice,” Trisha said, her voice wavering. “Thanks.”
Esme turned to address the growing crowd of middle-grade kids who’d come out for the reading. Willa and Rudy had already found a spot for themselves in the middle. Willa looked very serious, her brow furrowed.
Nervously, Ryan knelt and muttered in his mother’s ear, “Willa seems okay here.”
“She does,” Jackie agreed, smiling.
“But she could turn on a dime,” Ryan said.
Jackie looked resolute. “I can handle it, Ryan.” She turned to look Trisha in the eye as she added, “I love her, you know. I want to be there for her. I want to learn how to be there for her, that is. And I can’t learn if I don’t try.”
Tied up within that was an apology for the other night—and a promise for a better future.
Trisha was difficult to read. Was she going to let this go for now? Was she up for the wine bar down the block?
To Ryan’s disbelief, within twenty minutes, he was sitting across from his wife, studying an extensive wine menu and asking the server questions about French and Italian wineries. Trisha was all smiles, showing off an elaborate knowledge of wine that went back to her days of working in bars and restaurants. The server took a liking to her and decided to let them taste test five different wines for free before they made their official choice.
When the server disappeared to pour their samples, Ryan let himself really look at his wife. Although the move had been tremendously difficult for her, and she was probably in a haze of depression, she could still light up any room. If she wanted to.
“What?” she asked, daring him to say exactly what was on his mind.
He raised his shoulders. “I’m just sorry.”
He was sorry for moving them back to a place that stressed her out so much. He was sorry for having failed out in Chicago. He was sorry for his family being the way they were. He was sorry he hadn’t fully stood up for her when he should have. He was sorry that Willa had autism. He was sorry he didn’t always know how to take it.
Trisha touched his hand on the table. After a pause, she said, “I hate that we gave up.” Her voice cracked.
She meant that they gave up on their dream of leaving. They gave up on their dream of never coming back.
“I don’t think we gave up,” Ryan said. “I don’t think it’s really giving up until we give up on each other.”
Before Trisha could answer, the server returned with their wine samples and regaled them with a story of a trip he’d taken to Italy three years back. Trisha laughed and asked questions, pretending to be joyful and free. Ryan took a sip from the first sample and, inexplicably, heard his grandmother’s voice in his head. I’ve never regretted a glass of wine.