Chapter 3
The opening of the White Oak Lodge was three days later.
Dressed in a lilac gown, Lorelei moved through the vibrant crowd, her heart in her throat.
The hotel had returned to its former glory.
All the paint had dried, and every suite was perfectly decorated, and all the staff were in place, wearing their sophisticated uniforms. It was hard not to think about nearly thirty years ago, when the White Oak Lodge had burned to the ground.
Everything was virtually the same as it had been in the nineties.
Some of the island’s most prestigious artists and writers and filmmakers were dressed to the nines, lounging across the grounds and the various verandas, drinking expensive cocktails and talking languidly.
Because it was already a beautiful day in the low eighties, which was warm for May, gorgeous, suntanned individuals were either in the pool or sunning around it, and caterers walked around carrying appetizers, most of which had been invented by Roberto.
Lorelei paused on the veranda and peered out, searching for more of her family members.
Her mother and father, Francesca and Benjamin Whitmore, were playing happy hosts, greeting old friends with cheek kisses and gesturing for them to take free glasses of champagne and celebrate.
Not far from where Lorelei stood was Alexander, her older brother, who’d worked as a pilot until recent events had brought him to Nantucket.
Lorelei went over to Alexander and bumped him with the tip of her elbow.
“Hey, Big Brother,” she said, offering a smile.
“Happy grand opening party.” She knew he wasn’t happy about Gwen’s broken arm, but she knew Gwen hadn’t thrown Aurora under the bus for the incident.
Gwen had owned up to it, telling her father that it had been her idea and hers alone.
Lorelei would not be the one to tell Alexander that accidents seemed to follow Aurora around.
She wouldn’t tell him that their own mother suggested that the White Oak Lodge was cursed.
“Can’t believe it,” Alexander said after a pause. “It’s like it’s 1998 all over again.”
“I keep feeling that way, too.” Lorelei traced a line from Alexander over to her sister Allegra, who was chatting with her daughter Tatiana.
Allegra and Tatiana both lived in Rome and had been active members of Lorelei’s life for many, many years.
By comparison, Alexander was a stranger.
She didn’t like to think that way, but it was true.
“Mama and Dad are in their element,” Alexander offered.
“I know, right? It’s hard to believe. Do you think they’re really…?” Lorelei trailed off.
“Back together? I don’t know. I’m too afraid to guess.”
Lorelei laughed gently. “Where’s Janie?”
Alexander pointed across the wide green lawn at his wife, who stood with Conor, Gwen, and Xander, eating appetizers and chatting. Gwen was wearing an arm cast already covered in designs made by members of the Whitmore family.
“Roberto is a brilliant chef, sis,” Alexander said now, reaching for another parmesan-and-oregano-covered appetizer. “It’s a little taste of Italy right here in Nantucket. You said he went to culinary school?”
“All over the world,” she said. “Tokyo. London. New York.” She felt a swell of pride, which surprised her. It had been ages since she’d felt anything but fear and reticence about her husband. She hated to admit that. “I’d better check on him, actually. I’ll catch you later?”
Lorelei made her way past Allegra and Tatiana, smiling hello, before moving past the pool.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Aurora, who seemed deep in conversation with the two men who worked in the stables.
Lorelei knew that Oren and Kenny had been instrumental in making sure Gwen’s pain was minimal, and it had been Oren, Kenny, and Aurora who’d ultimately driven Gwen to the hospital, where they’d met Janie and Alexander.
By the looks of things, Aurora had already captivated both Oren and Kenny. Oren was more garrulous, moving his arms around as he spoke, while Kenny hung back, looking a little moodier, a little less convinced of the situation.
It had been ages since Aurora had had a proper boyfriend, Lorelei knew.
Lorelei knew Aurora deserved love, that she was a beautiful, free-spirited human who could make someone’s life complex, interesting and happy.
But Lorelei knew, too, that Aurora’s past would make it difficult for Aurora to find true and everlasting love with someone.
Lorelei felt a spasm of regret. They should have forced her into therapy after everything that happened. They should have explained to her how incredibly important her feelings were.
As it happened, all they’d done was help her get into business school.
Lorelei was no longer sure that had been the right move. In fact, it seemed increasingly clear that it wasn’t. But Roberto had sounded so certain. “She needs solid ground. She needs a plan.”
All Lorelei knew for sure was that she’d spent the majority of her parenting life worrying about Aurora. For whatever reason, Pino and Nadia were easier. They didn’t make messes. They moved through the world with ease.
What Lorelei would never admit, of course, was that Aurora reminded her far more of herself than either of her other children. She wondered if Roberto sensed that, too.
In the kitchen, she found Roberto and a team of sous chefs, making platter after platter of appetizers and boiling pounds of pasta, all in preparation for tonight’s dinner.
Roberto was red-faced and sweating, and he frequently barked a mix of Italian and English orders across the room, despite the sous chefs being American.
Lorelei hesitated, wondering if she should bother him at all.
But before she could leave the kitchen, he spotted her and came over.
“Ciao,” he said, pulling his fingers through his sweaty hair. “Shoot,” he muttered, because now he would have to wash his hands yet again. “How are you? How are people responding to the food?”
“Everyone adores it,” Lorelei said. She was sensitive to his feelings and knew she had to say the right thing.
“But specifically,” Roberto asked. “What are they saying specifically?”
Lorelei knew that saying everyone thought the food was “delicious” wouldn’t cut it.
So, she spent a bit of time telling him that her mother loved the spices he used, that Alexander had loved the textures, that her father had said the sauce was “exquisite and sophisticated.” She used enough superb language to calm Roberto until he seemed recharged and ready for a few more hours in the kitchen.
But throughout her descriptions, Roberto’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Texts kept pinging in.
“Do you need to take care of something?” she asked finally, annoyed.
Roberto grunted and turned his phone on silent. “It’s just restaurant stuff back home,” he explained.
Lorelei’s heart pumped with what felt like doubt. This had been happening frequently lately. Roberto seemed unwilling to answer the texts and calls he got when Lorelei was around. It felt like he was hiding something.
She knew she needed to give him the benefit of the doubt.
She knew that was what a good wife would do.
She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips, then whispered, “Good luck.” She turned on her heel and left the sweltering kitchen, returning to the pastel lights of the early evening.
Just as soon as she’d filled her lungs, she nearly ran headfirst into Jack, her little brother, the one who’d been missing, the one who’d called himself Seth Green.
Jack wore a sloppy, happy smile. Aurora guessed that he was thrilled not to be living a double life anymore.
Often, she wanted to pester him for details about his past, about the difficulties of hiding everything from his wife.
Now, she wondered what Jack would say about Roberto’s strange and secretive phone calls and texts.
Would Jack say that Roberto had a double life, too?
“Happy opening party!” Lorelei said, hating how stringlike her voice sounded.
Jack raised his beer bottle. “Can’t believe it.”
“I hope you won’t go missing after this one wraps up?” Lorelei said, immediately hating herself after saying it. She was on edge.
But Jack took it in stride. “I think we’re in the clear,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. The kids and Addison love Nantucket. I’ll probably grow old and gray here.” He sipped his beer, then added, “I guess there’s no use in trying to get you and Roberto to move over here?”
“We have three restaurants to take care of,” Lorelei said, her stomach twisting. It was true that she’d fantasized about living part-time in Nantucket, if only to reconnect more with her family. There were so many wounds to mend. It was like they’d gotten a second shot.
“I’d love to get over there and see them,” Jack said. “I hope you’ll tell Roberto how much I love this food. Almost as good as Mama’s.”
Lorelei laughed. “Please, don’t tell him that last part.”
“Nobody can beat Mama’s,” Jack said, winking.
“I know,” Lorelei whispered, smiling.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Jack said, snapping his fingers. “Do you still play?”
Lorelei’s ears rang with surprise. By play he meant play the piano, and no, of course she didn’t. “I mean, I’m married. I have three kids.” She shrugged. “It’s taken all my strength to make that work.”
Jack nodded. “I get it. But I wanted to tell you. Back when I was Seth Green, back when I was traveling all over and hiding myself away, I used to listen to your performances. There was that one you did at the Barbican Center in London. It brought me to my knees, Lorelei. Honestly, I remembered listening to you practice when I was a kid. It was like you were this icon. I didn’t know anybody better at music than you. I still don’t!”
Lorelei’s eyes smarted, but she told herself not to cry—not at her loss of music, and not at the image of poor Seth Green, all alone and listening to her piano performance.
She remembered that London performance as though it were yesterday.
She’d worn that Dior dress, which had cost far more than even her wedding dress.
She’d wanted to be seen. She’d wanted to be respected.
“I guess I thought that would be my life forever,” she said.
“Life has other plans,” Jack said.
After Jack went off to help Addison with something, Lorelei grabbed a glass of champagne and stepped into the ornate ballroom, where she saw the grand piano—the Steinway.
The original grand piano that had sat in the ballroom had been a Fazioli.
Still, this one, in Lorelei’s opinion, was far nicer, with a grander and bolder and more decadent sound.
Since the piano movers had brought it in, Lorelei hadn’t sat down on the bench. She hadn’t dared.
She knew that her family members had been half-waiting for her to do it.
They’d been watching her like hawks, eager for her to reconnect with that glorious instrument.
After all, they’d all been forced to take piano lessons at a young age, but only Lorelei had pursued it.
Only Lorelei had gone on to be “someone great,” at least for a little while.
What were you supposed to do with your “greatness” when it existed so long ago? How could Lorelei even reckon with the fact that that had once been her?
Sometimes Lorelei wondered what Aurora would think about her past when she was older.
She wondered how Aurora would think about the time of her life a few years ago, back when she’d wanted to be so independent, back when she’d been so sure that she didn’t need her parents.
She’d left home and told them, “I’m going to Berlin to be an artist.”
And then, they’d gotten the call.
Suddenly, Lorelei found herself sitting at the grand piano. She put the tips of her fingers on the glowing white keys but didn’t dare press down. What if she’d forgotten everything she’d ever known about music? What if she had nothing left to give?