Chapter 12
It was June 21 and the morning of the Summer Solstice. Greta woke up at five to go to her office to pore over the notes she’d compiled for her current manuscript—a memoir that wove together Celeste’s devastating losses with Greta’s own. A memoir that hoped to analyze the devastating reality of humanity alongside its quest for truth, beauty and art. What Brad Harding had told her last week had invigorated her creative process and brought another level of sorrow to the picture. She could still hear Brad saying, “But for Celeste, that wasn’t the end of her misery. It was really only the beginning.”
According to Brad, Celeste had already met her first husband by the time her mother died. His name was Marshall, and he was a firefighter in Manhattan between the years 2003 and 2010. He came from a long line of firefighters, including a father and grandfather who both lost their lives on September 11, 2001. Marshall wore his trauma on his shoulders like a jacket.
Greta wrote, Brad doesn’t know how Marshall and Celeste met. He thinks it has something to do with a fire on another level of Celeste’s apartment building. Based on police records, that would have been at the end of 2008—around the time Winsome Theater Company closed its doors for good.
“Celeste was always curious about people,” Brad had told her. “Even as a kid, she would go up to people and ask them questions about what they were doing or wearing or eating. She was always adorable, and later, she was beautiful, and people opened up right away. I imagine she walked right up to Marshall when he was in his firefighter uniform and asked him what was up. And how could a firefighter like Marshall resist someone like Celeste? She was charming, unique and creative. She had a wonderful way with words.”
“What did you think of Marshall?” Greta had asked.
“I thought he was a brute. Just like our father. She never confessed that he hit her, but I wouldn’t have been surprised.”
Greta wrote, Celeste married Marshall six months after her mother died and moved to New Jersey. Brad remembers her saying that she was done with New York and done with theater. He figured it was just a phase, that she would come back to the theater when the time was right. But not long after she married Marshall, they started trying for a baby.
“I couldn’t believe she wanted a baby right away,” Brad had said. “I didn’t want to say anything, but it seemed obvious she was trying to fill the hole our mother had left.”
“I think that’s a common reaction to something so difficult,” Greta had said.
Brad was quiet for a long time before adding, “But it was another step toward her ruin.”
Greta wrote, Celeste got pregnant right away and called her brother to share the news. Brad was nervous; he didn’t like Marshall and wanted her to leave him when she found the strength. He knew that a baby would complicate things. But after his wife’s urging, Brad went over to Celeste’s with flowers and chocolate to congratulate them. Everything was right as rain that afternoon. Marshall doted on Celeste, and Celeste spoke about the baby in absolutes. But not a week later Celeste called him sobbing. She said she’d had a miscarriage. Brad reminded her this was really common, that women lost babies all the time. But she just kept saying, “Not like this. Not like this.”
“She was so fragile,” Brad had said.
“What do you think she meant by ‘not like this’?” Greta asked.
“I’ve thought about that often,” Brad said. “My only guess is that Marshall did something to cause it. Maybe he hit her. Maybe he upset her so much that her hormones went out of whack. I don’t know. But the next thing I knew, I couldn’t get a hold of Celeste. I called her house three or four times a day. If Marshall was there, he just let it ring and ring. I was terrified. I went over there to see her, but Marshall told me she’d gone out of town. This didn’t seem likely. He had red-rimmed eyes, and he slunk around the shadows of their house like a ghoul. Finally, I told him I was going to call the police and suggest he’d done something to her. He looked at me with these tiny evil eyes and said, ‘She went to the looney bin.’ I couldn’t believe he’d said it like that.”
Greta wrote, Marshall drove Celeste to the hospital three days after her miscarriage. She couldn’t stop crying. Eventually, they checked her into the mental institution attached to the hospital to keep an eye on her.
Greta’s heart felt pulpy. She stopped typing and looked over her notes again. It felt strange to put together the pieces of this puzzle from so long ago. And she hated picturing Celeste’s beautiful face so crumpled and sad like that. Celeste had needed her mother so desperately during that time.
Why hadn’t Celeste reached out to Greta? Would Greta have been receptive? Would she have come to her aide? She liked to think she would have. But her past was as foggy as the Sound in autumn.
Greta glanced at her phone and stood with a start. She had twelve missed calls and ten messages from Julia, Scarlet, Ella, Laura, and Alana. The realization hit her all at once that she was late for Alana’s bachelorette weekend. She flung herself through the office door and got ready in five minutes flat: makeup, hair, swimsuit, summer dress. She and Alana had more or less mended their not-so-great relationship—and she didn’t want to destroy all that progress like this. She had to get to the harbor as soon as possible.
Greta parked near the harbor and hurried to find the Copperfield women in a buzzing group near the dock. Alana wore a funny white veil that Sarah had brought her from the city, and the others wore pink t-shirts that said, “Alana’s Crew.” Greta was surprised at how easy it was to laugh after all she’d learned about Celeste. Scarlet tossed her a t-shirt, and she put it on over her white tank top.
Greta hugged Alana and whispered, “I’m sorry I’m running late!”
“It’s okay,” Alana assured her. “We were worried when we didn’t hear anything from you.”
Ella swung her arm around Greta’s shoulders and said, “None of us live with you anymore. We couldn’t come bang on your door.”
Greta’s heart swelled at the memory of the nearly two years that her children had lived with her and Bernard again. Their children had taken up every room of the house, and conversations could be heard from every room and every hall. She made a mental note to write about this time of her life one day, a time during which she’d learned the true meaning of being a grandmother and opened her arms to all these darling creatures who wanted to love her back. Maybe she’d get to it after the Celeste memoir.
Julia had rented a sailboat for the day. It was big enough for all the Copperfield women who’d agreed to come along: Greta, Alana, Julia, Catherine, Scarlet, Ella, Laura, Anna, Sarah, and Ivy. Just before they pulled the anchor up, they spotted another Copperfield-adjacent family member hurrying down the dock. It was Eloise, Greta’s little sister. Greta hadn’t seen her in a couple of weeks, and she threw her arms around her and felt like a girl again—before the dark realities of adulthood had grabbed hold of her—if only briefly.
They set out for the glittering waters. Alana and Julia were both passionate sailors, and they handled the sails and the vessel easily as the others situated themselves like cats in the sun. Scarlet handled mimosas and passed out buttery croissants as Ivy set up a speaker system to play a perfectly cultivated playlist of all of Alana’s favorite songs. Sarah sat next to Greta with her mimosa and clinked her glass with Greta’s.
“How does it feel to be back from the city?” Greta asked.
“I cried when I got back to my room last night,” Sarah confessed. “Dad had bought all my favorite snacks, and he wanted to stay up late watching TV together and talking during commercial breaks. I ended up falling asleep on the couch like a little kid.”
Sarah looked beautiful, a woman who knew she was on the verge of conquering the world, one theater production at a time. Greta felt as though she basked in her glory.
“But it sounds like it’s going well?” Greta asked.
“Better than that,” Sarah said dreamily. “I told Alana I would stop begging her to come to the city as often to take care of me.” She laughed.
“I don’t think she minds,” Greta said. “You know we’re always here for you. You’re already an official Copperfield in my book.”
Alana turned to look at Greta and smiled knowingly. Greta remembered when Alana ran off with Asher to New York City; she’d hardly ever called home or told anyone what she was up to. Greta had spotted her eldest daughter in a glossy magazine—as a model—and nearly fallen to her knees. Her thoughts had been all over the place. On the one hand, she was thrilled that her daughter was making it work in one of the cultural hubs of the world. On the other hand, she hated that Alana wasn’t using her brain—and instead just her beauty—in a world that would soon turn its back on her when she aged up.
But Alana hadn’t been the sort of young woman to listen to reason. And she definitely hadn’t called Greta, crying and begging her to come visit, unlike Sarah.
Alana dropped anchor near a beautiful cliffside, and Julia announced it was time for lunch. Alana sat across from Greta, and the wind teased her veil gently. Greta, Julia, and Ella set about brunch preparations, laying out hummus and fresh bread, dried Italian tomatoes, all sorts of cheese, eggs, sausage, and adorable cakes. Greta could have eaten everything twice; it was just that good. Scarlet went around to refill mimosas as Julia suggested they play a game for the bachelorette.
“No!” Alana begged. “We don’t need to play any games.”
Julia gave her a secretive smile and tugged out a big folder. “I spent some time working on it. I think you’re going to like it.”
Alana blushed and rolled her eyes as the others twisted to see what Julia had.
“The game is ‘Guess What She’s Selling,’” Julia explained. “I have here twenty-five different advertisement campaigns that Alana modeled for. I’ve taken out the advertisement copy, and it’s up to us to guess what in the world she’s supposed to be selling based on the photograph.”
Alana’s face went slack for a split second. Greta was the only one who noticed. The others exclaimed with excitement.
“I haven’t seen enough of your stuff, Aunt Alana,” Ivy said. “And I’ve always wanted to.”
Julia arched her brow at Alana. “Do you mind? I think it’ll be fun. And you’re so good! These photos are stunning.”
“Fine,” Alana said. Her laughter rang false. “Go ahead. I probably don’t remember half of what they advertised.”
Julia clapped her hands and brought out the first photograph. In it, Alana wore a nightgown and a gorgeous pout. They’d done her makeup with smoky dark eyeliner and eye shadow. “Guess what she’s selling?”
They went around the circle. Scarlet guessed, “That nightgown,” while Ivy went with, “Eye shadow.” Catherine said, “Night cream,” while Ella said, “I’ll go with something weird and say sleep medication.”
When it came time for Greta, she said, “It’s an advertisement for singles who want to go on blind dates.”
Julia’s eyebrows rose. She was quiet for a moment. “That’s it,” she said. “How did you know?”
“I remember it,” Greta said. “It must have been spring of 1999.”
Alana was captivated. “You saw it? Do you remember what magazine it was in?”
“It must have been People,” Greta said. She could practically still feel the magazine in her hands.
“That’s one point for Mom!” Julia said.
Alana continued to gaze at Greta. She was shocked. But Greta went on to win the game outright. Out of twenty-five, she guessed thirteen correctly. The only person who got close was Ella. It seemed that advertisements had changed a great deal since the late nineties and early 2000s, and the younger girls didn’t stand a chance.
Immediately after the game wrapped up, Scarlet took off her clothes to reveal her black bikini and leaped into the water. Anna joined her a few seconds later and laughed as she came back up. She didn’t look like a young woman who’d lost her fiancé and was now raising a baby with her new boyfriend’s help. She looked light and free and easy. There’s so much you can’t know about a person. So much that they hide.
“Come on in, Grandma!” Ivy called.
Greta laughed and waved her hands. “In a minute.”
When she turned around, she found Alana directly beside her with a freshly poured glass of mimosa. She looked as though she had no interest in swimming. “I can’t believe how many of those you got right.”
Greta raised her shoulders. “I didn’t have a whole lot else to do but pay attention to your modeling career.”
Alana flinched, and Greta immediately regretted having said it. She didn’t want to belittle Alana’s career in the slightest. She wanted to be a better mother than she had been; she wanted to mend this.
“I was fascinated with it,” Greta offered after a pause. “And I wanted to see your face so much. I hated that they put so much makeup on you. I wanted to see my daughter as she was.”
Alana blinked back tears and took a sip of mimosa. The other Copperfield women leaped from the boat so that only Alana and Greta were aboard.
“Can I tell you something?” Alana asked quietly as the others hollered and yelped.
“Of course you can.”
Alana sighed and cast her eyes across the horizon. “Sarah’s director recognized me from my modeling days. He wants me to audition for his next production.”
“Really!”
Alana couldn’t suppress her smile. It was clear that this pleased her even though it complicated everything. “I don’t know what to make of it. On the one hand, I’m thrilled to be getting married again, and I’m head-over-heels in love with Jeremy. On the other hand, I never felt like I had reached my potential by acting before my life fell apart. I’ve been heavy with regrets. And this feels like a window to the world I always wanted to join.” She sighed. “Ginny has made me so jealous over the past few weeks. I’ve wondered so often what could have been if I’d never left New York. If I hadn’t gotten so involved with Asher. If I hadn’t given up.”
Greta wrapped her arm around her daughter’s back. It was rare for the two of them to share such intimacies.
“And now that you’ve spoken so much about Celeste and her ‘failure,’ so to speak, to reach her potential, I can’t help but wonder if I should be doing more,” Alana went on. “Maybe that’s stupid. But this life is the only one I have.”
Greta nodded. “Have you talked to Jeremy about this?”
“I don’t want to scare him. I will never leave that man. Not unless he leaves me first. But I can’t help but think I have to go after this, just to see what happens.”
“You absolutely do,” Greta said. “And Jeremy will move mountains to help you do what you want to do. He loves you without question. He’ll be in the front row on opening night and probably every other night thereafter. You know that, right?”
Alana smiled and dropped her head on Greta’s shoulder. “I know you’re right. But I’m also worried telling him about it will jinx it. I hope the director hasn’t forgotten. Maybe he says this sort of thing to women all the time. Maybe it’s a manipulation tactic.”
“I don’t think he would ever lie about wanting you to work for him,” Greta affirmed. “Didn’t you see those advertisements? You’re a star, honey. You’ve always been.”
Alana laughed. “I was in my early twenties. Everyone is a star in their early twenties.”
“That’s not true, and you know it,” Greta said with finality.
Scarlet hollered from down below for Aunt Alana and Grandma to join the fun in the water. Greta and Alana laughed and stripped down to their bathing suits. They hovered at the edge hand-in-hand and counted to three before they leaped in together. Greta swam into the chilly depths and then burst up, rubbing her eyes of salt. The sun shone upon them, and their wet hair glinted. She wasn’t sure the last time she’d felt so free.
That night, Julia booked them for dinner and drinks at a swanky restaurant on the coast. Alana was the guest of honor at the head of the table, and Greta grabbed a chair a few away from her, between Julia and Ivy. They all ordered fish dishes and Spanish-inspired tapas, plus glasses of wine. The conversation bubbled. Everyone was saying everything at once.
Alana tapped her glass with a fork delicately until the table quieted. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I just want to thank you all for this wonderful party. It’s been a dream to hang out with you all day on this gorgeous Solstice. Sometimes, I don’t know what to do about all this love I have for my family.” Alana caught Greta’s gaze and smiled. “Thank God that we all came back to Nantucket. It’s where we belong.”