Chapter 19
The day after Aurora’s heart-to-heart with her mother, she woke up in her mother’s bed.
The clock told her it was nearly noon, that she’d slept the morning away.
Aurora didn’t care. It had been such a relief to spill the beans about Nico, about her broken heart, about all she was running away from. She felt free and alive.
Lorelei was nowhere to be found, so Aurora went to her bedroom to get her phone and reorient herself. There were many messages on there, one from Pino, another from her father, and several from Kenny. She read the ones from Kenny first.
KENNY: Oren and I are quitting the Lodge.
KENNY: Can’t bear to be here anymore. I don’t know. I think Oren’s going back to the city, and I’m going to figure something else out.
KENNY: I’ll try my best to fix things with Oren. I’ll try to ask him not to use any of the footage from your family in his doc. But I can’t promise anything.
KENNY: It was really cool to get to know you. I don’t know what else to say. I’m not so good with my emotions, or with words, or whatever. Keep in touch?
Aurora squeezed her eyes shut. She searched her heart to see how much this hurt her, then discovered that her heart was too scarred to feel much of any of it.
Kenny was just another guy. Oren was just another idiot she had to deal with.
She was on a journey forward. She couldn’t let this get to her.
She read the one from her father next.
PAPA: Your siblings and I are coming back to Nantucket the first week of July. We have to discuss something as a family. I look forward to seeing you.
This touched Aurora’s heart differently, adding a glimmer of fear. If Roberto wanted to talk to them about something—as a family—she guessed it was about her parents’ marriage.
At twenty-two, she knew she needed to be emotionally ready to deal with her parents’ potential divorce.
But it made her feel endlessly nihilistic about her own future.
If her own parents, who’d loved one another for decades, who’d done everything to make their marriage work, couldn’t find a way through life together, then what did that mean for everyone else?
Was love ever something that could last?
She read the message from her brother Pino then.
PINO: We’re coming back to Nantucket, but Papa won’t tell me why. Did you do something wrong?
Aurora rolled her eyes into the back of her head and decided not to answer.
Rather than stay around the Lodge that afternoon, Aurora hitched a ride with her Uncle Jack to the historic district, where she found herself going in and out of bookstores and coffee shops, people-watching, eating an ice cream cone, before eventually stopping in front of a big window.
Upon the window was painted: ART SUPPLIES. Aurora went in right away.
She’d always loved art stores. Paints and canvases and all kinds of pencils and pens and sketchpads were lined beautifully, in a way that made her feel safe and organized. For more than an hour, she perused, wondering if she even had it in her to start making art again.
Aurora purchased paints, a sketchpad, pencils, and two canvases, thinking that she didn’t want to go overboard, just in case she learned that she actually hated making art now.
She paid for everything, bagged it all up, then considered how to get back to the Lodge.
She’d previously gotten around so well with Kenny and Oren. She supposed she could hitchhike again.
Instead, she called her grandmother.
Francesca answered on the first ring. “Ciao, Bella!” she sang.
Aurora explained where she was, and Francesca told her to stay there. “I need to go to the grocery store anyway,” Francesca explained. “I’m starving, so I imagine everyone else is, too.”
Francesca seemed always starving, always ready for the next meal. Aurora’s own stomach flipped over, eager for one of Francesca’s immaculate Italian dishes.
When Francesca turned the corner in her newly purchased vintage Audi convertible, her wig firmly secure despite the flapping Nantucket winds, Aurora thought, This woman is an icon. She smiled broadly and hopped into the front seat, throwing her art supplies in back.
“Are we having a girls’ day?” Francesca asked, her eyes shining.
“It looks like it,” Aurora said.
“My favorite,” Francesca said, pressing her foot against the gas and speeding them to the store.
For the next two hours, Francesca and Aurora worked tirelessly in the kitchen. Francesca wanted to make everything from scratch, including the noodles, which was an arduous but hilarious task, one that Francesca insisted needed plenty of wine. She refilled Aurora’s glass without asking, giggling.
While the pasta stewed on the stovetop, Francesca leaned her glass against her cheek and looked at Aurora knowingly. “Tell me, honey,” she said. “What kind of mess did you cook up with the stable men? Why did they both quit this morning?”
Aurora’s eyes widened with surprise. For some reason, she’d thought she’d been so secretive. She hadn’t imagined that everyone knew all about what she’d been up to.
Francesca laughed. “You don’t have to tell me a thing, honey. But I’m nosy. I’m an Italian grandmother, after all. Just because I moved back to Nantucket doesn’t mean I don’t want to spend my time gossiping in the kitchen.”
Aurora snorted with laughter, then felt her smile dim. “I sort of fell for one of them,” she admitted. “But it was a mess.”
“Jealousy,” Francesca said knowingly. “It’s one of the most destructive forces. I remember it well from the early days of my marriage to your grandfather. Oh, how we cheated on one another.” She laughed again, shaking her head.
“How can you forgive him?” Aurora asked.
“I love him,” Francesca said simply. “I forgive him for everything.”
It sounded so easy. Aurora couldn’t fathom it.
“Do you think you’ve been really in love with anyone?” Francesca asked, her wooden spoon poised over the pot of pasta.
Aurora considered the men in her life. There had been many who’d liked her, but she’d liked only a few of them back. Sebastian. Kenny.
“I think I loved my German boyfriend,” she said quietly. “But that love destroyed me. Or I didn’t feel safe after our love fell apart.”
“Making a choice to love someone is never a safe thing,” Francesca said.
“Anyone at any time can leave you. Anyone at any time can decide that they’d rather have a different life.
But despite all that, life is a beautiful tapestry.
All your choices, all your desires, all your loves, they tell a story, one that you’ll love thinking about later on.
” Francesca looked sad for a moment. “I know you think fondly about my Jefferson.”
Jefferson Albright was, of course, Francesca’s longtime lover, the man she’d met in the horse stables at the White Oak Lodge, the man who’d fathered Charlotte and eventually moved to Italy to be with Francesca, after it was assumed that Benjamin was dead.
He’d died of COVID, which had seemed incredibly cruel.
Aurora guessed her grandmother would never get over it.
“I miss him every day,” Francesca said. “And I can carry my love for him in my heart, even as I live my life here in Nantucket, with Benjamin and with all of you.”
For a moment, Aurora thought her grandmother was going to cry. Instead, she rose on her tiptoes and hollered to whoever was in the house, “Who wants to eat?”
Aurora laughed. Her grandmother was certainly an icon. Aurora hoped she could be half as interesting and half as cool when she was her age. She hoped she could squeeze so much joy out of life.
That evening, Aurora, Lorelei, Francesca, Allegra, Addison, Nina, and Charlotte sat around a veranda table, eating Francesca’s pasta and drinking red wine.
Although it was the end of June, it was a chilly night, so they wore sweaters over their sundresses.
Most of the guests had retired to their rooms, leaving them plenty of space to cackle and tell stories.
Frequently, Aurora caught her mother’s eye, and they smiled at one another.
Aurora was so grateful that her mother had agreed to carry Aurora’s sorrow.
“Oh!” Allegra said suddenly. “Are you and Carter still performing at that party? I want to make sure I can go.”
Lorelei cackled. “No. No, no. I never want to see that guy again.”
They all peered at Lorelei curiously. Aurora ached to know more.
But Lorelei didn’t seem like she wanted or needed to share.
“Suffice it to say, he thought there was something between us. But I’m married.
At least, I think I’m still married.” Lorelei winced and looked at Aurora.
Pain was written across her face. “Carter and I were lovers when we were too young to know what love was. I’m lucky that I got to grow up and discover what love was with Roberto.
I’m so lucky that I went on to have three gorgeous kids.
Carter is not a part of my future story, not in the least. I’m grateful to know that. ”
Later, in her bedroom alone, Aurora set up her canvas and, for the first time in a very long time, began to paint.
At first, she didn’t know which direction she wanted to take it.
She experimented with colors. She tried to find the exact light that hit the Nantucket Sound in the evening, right before everything turned to black.
For hours, she continued to work, searching the canvas for the truth.
The following day, Aurora did the same. She avoided her phone.
She avoided all thoughts of Kenny and Oren and Sebastian.
She cooked and drank wine with her grandmother and then committed hours to the canvas.
By the end of the week, she’d finished both paintings and needed to return to the art store to buy more supplies.
And by the beginning of July, she had five paintings finished and ready—but ready for what? She didn’t know.
Aurora decided to show the paintings to her grandmother first. They were getting closer and closer, but that didn’t mean that Francesca wouldn’t give Aurora the gift of her honesty.
If anything, Francesca’s honesty could be startling and biting, and Aurora knew she needed it if she was going to become a better artist. She’d dropped out of art school, but she still needed a discerning eye.
Aurora set up the paintings around her bedroom, then fetched her grandmother from the kitchen.
Francesca wore a solemn look, as though she knew how essential this mission was.
For a long time, she stood in Aurora’s room, assessing the paintings, with her arms folded.
And then, she turned to look at Aurora and said, “These are extraordinary. I want to hang them in the dining room immediately. I’m calling a professional framer.
In the meantime, consider how much you think each of them is worth. ”
Aurora was flabbergasted. She watched as her grandmother left, already dialing someone to frame the paintings so that they could be hung within the week. Aurora felt as though she were floating off the ground.
The night before Aurora’s father, brother, and sister were meant to arrive, Francesca had three staff members arrange and hang six of Aurora’s paintings. When they were up, Aurora, Lorelei, Aunt Allegra, and Francesca stood all the way back in the corner to see how the colors worked together.
“It’s like listening to a symphony,” Aunt Allegra said.
Lorelei’s eyes shone with pride. When she turned to Aurora, she touched her shoulder. “I always knew you were an artist,” she said. “I always knew you would find your way back.”