Nantucket Second Chances

Chapter 1

Claire Shipman stopped walking to admire the sunset’s pink and orange streaks that painted the sky over Nantucket Harbor.

She slid her hands into the cozy pockets of her puffy jacket and shivered.

It wasn’t that cold for late March, but it was windy.

She didn’t mind though and took a deep breath of the crisp, salty air.

She’d been walking the beach for a half hour and was almost back to her mother’s house.

It had been quite a week. She was grateful to be home, staying with her mother for the foreseeable future.

She was in uncharted waters after her husband of seventeen years asked for a divorce the same day she discovered she was unexpectedly pregnant.

When she reached her mother’s house, she recognized Rachel’s car in the driveway.

Claire checked the time. It was a few minutes before seven.

Rachel was early, and she was never early.

They’d been best friends for as long as Claire could remember, since they were in elementary school on Nantucket.

After college, Claire, along with most of their graduating class, moved off-island.

But Rachel stayed and married Jared Thompson, her high school boyfriend.

Rachel and Jared started dating when they were both fifteen, and everyone thought they’d break up when they went to college.

Everyone except Claire. She wasn’t surprised that Rachel never wanted to date anyone else.

Rachel and Jared were best friends and perfect together.

They married right after graduation, had two kids, both of whom were in college now, and Jared ran his family’s real estate and property management business.

Rachel worked in the office a few days a week.

Claire had moved to Manhattan and shared an apartment in Murray Hill with two other girls.

It was tiny and more than she could easily afford, but it was everything she’d dreamed of.

She’d landed an assistant to an assistant job at Vogue magazine, and while the pay was horrible and most of it went toward rent, she felt incredibly lucky each day as she went to work.

She worked long hours, but the work was so glamorous and inspiring.

Being surrounded by fashion all day and writing about it was amazing.

She also handled plenty of less exciting assistant work, like grabbing coffee for her bosses, but she didn’t care.

And it was on one of those coffee runs, just a few weeks into her new job, that she first met Ellis.

He literally ran into her as he was rushing into the coffee shop and she was juggling a tray of assorted drinks.

They all went tumbling down the front of his sleek suit.

Claire found herself apologizing, even though it had been his fault.

His wavy brown hair, slightly crooked grin, and dancing hazel eyes made her catch her breath.

He’d insisted it was all his fault and bought her a new round of coffees.

They chatted while they waited, and the spark was instant.

So when he suggested dinner, she’d happily accepted.

After a whirlwind six months of dating, Ellis proposed, and they married a year later.

He was eight years older and turned thirty the year they married.

The wedding was on Nantucket in June, and Rachel was her maid of honor.

Rachel liked Ellis but had asked Claire if she was really sure, as they hadn’t been together all that long before deciding to marry.

Claire had no doubts though. Ellis dazzled her in every way.

He was fun, outgoing, and successful. He did something in finance that Claire didn’t fully understand, but it paid well.

A year after they married and a month before Claire gave birth to their daughter, Lily, they moved to the Upper East Side, to a roomy three-bedroom apartment on Fifth Avenue, near Central Park and the Met.

It was a wonderful place to live, and for many years, Claire was happily married.

Rachel visited at least once a year, and they did all the touristy things—went to Broadway shows and to sample sales and for long walks in the park.

And every summer, Claire and Lily spent two months on Nantucket at her mother’s house.

Ellis usually flew out to join them every other weekend and for a week in July.

Her mother made the trip to Manhattan at least once a year as well.

It was an easy flight from Nantucket after a quick stop in Boston.

Claire never imagined then that at age thirty-nine, she’d be living on Nantucket again—single and pregnant.

She took a deep breath as she pushed open the door to her mother’s house. Rachel knew what had happened. She’d been one of the first calls Claire had made. But they hadn’t seen each other yet, and Claire knew she’d be talking through it with Rachel again—trying to make sense of it all.

She stepped into the kitchen, her favorite room in her mother’s house and where they spent most of their time.

Marsha Whitman loved to cook and had remodeled the kitchen when she inherited the house from Claire’s grandmother a few years ago.

It was mostly creamy white, with shimmery pale blue glass subway tiles on the walls.

The countertops were honed Calacatta marble, which wasn’t all that practical in a kitchen that was used often, but her mother had always wanted marble.

The island was the star of the kitchen. It was V-shaped with two levels, with the stovetop on the lower level so her mother could cook and have a view of the ocean while chatting with people seated along either side.

Rachel was sitting there now and stood when Claire walked in.

She rushed over and pulled her in for a hug, and Claire’s eyes immediately welled up.

She’d thought she was all cried out. When they pulled apart, she noticed that Rachel’s eyes were damp too.

“It’s so good to see you. How are you?” Rachel’s worry was evident.

Claire smiled and tried to reassure both of them. “I’m okay. I’m glad to be home.”

“Have a seat and relax. The buffalo chicken dip is ready.” Her mother pulled a pan out of the oven and set it on the island counter while Claire shrugged off her coat and settled into the chair next to Rachel.

Her mother set a bowl of tortilla chips next to the dip.

“I picked up a bottle of nonalcoholic chardonnay. Do you want to try a glass?”

“Sure.” Claire appreciated that her mother was fussing over her. It was nice to be home and to feel loved and taken care of.

Her mother handed her a chilled glass of wine, and they all tapped glasses as they often did when they got together.

Although this time, they weren’t exactly celebrating anything.

But still, the familiar gesture lifted Claire’s spirits.

Rachel and her mother were drinking Claire’s favorite chardonnay, Bread and Butter.

She took a sip of the nonalcoholic one, expecting it to be terrible, and was pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t awful.

They dug into the dip, and after catching up on local gossip, Claire’s mother announced that she was heading out.

“I’m off to meet Carol for a drink downtown. When you two are ready to eat, everything is done and keeping warm in the oven. The guac and salsa are in the fridge.” They were having turkey tacos.

“Thanks, Mom. Are you sure you don’t want to eat with us first?” Claire knew there would be plenty of food. There always was.

“No. I’m sure we’ll have a bite at LoLa. I’ll see you later, honey.”

Claire knew her mother was giving her space to talk with Rachel. Plus, Claire had already gone through it all with her, trying to make sense of what had happened. Her mother had been sympathetic, of course, but she didn’t understand what had gone wrong in Claire’s marriage.

“Sometimes people grow apart,” was her conclusion.

And it was something her mother was familiar with.

She and Claire’s father had divorced when Claire started high school.

He hadn’t cheated, but neither of them had been happy for several years, and her father was anxious to move off-island.

He was a union electrician and went to Boston, where there was more steady work and where his brother lived.

Boston was close enough that Claire saw him every other weekend at first and then one weekend a month after the first year.

Even though it wasn’t all that far to Boston, it was still a bit of a project to get there, as she usually flew and he picked her up at Logan Airport.

Claire had mostly loved her weekends visiting her dad.

He’d lived just outside Boston in Everett for years, and they almost always went into town—to have lunch or dinner at one of the many Italian restaurants in the North End or to a baseball game at Fenway or basketball or hockey at the Garden.

Her dad loved sports, and it was fun to share that with him.

He’d remarried a few years ago and moved to a two-bedroom condo in the Back Bay.

Claire hadn’t talked to him yet—it was still too fresh.

And she knew he’d invite her to visit anytime, and she would, but not just yet.

“So start from the beginning and walk me through everything,” Rachel said, as Claire knew she would.

“I can’t believe it’s only been a week since it happened.” Claire had only just flown into Nantucket the day before. She took a deep breath and went back in time to a little over a week ago.