Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nantucket Island
Now that Alexander had his father’s phone number listed in his cell, he wasn’t sure how to proceed.
For years, he’d been searching for him, and for years, Benjamin had been out there, hiding himself from the rest of the Whitmores, biding his time.
For what? As Alexander and Janie sat on the back porch, watching their children play in the water, Alexander murmured, “Do you think he’s been dating Chloe this entire time?
Is that why he faked his own death? To get away from my mother and build a new life with her? ”
“That doesn’t sound rational,” Janie said. “Chloe and I have been in contact through the years. I would have known if she was living with your father.” But there was a hesitance to Janie’s voice that made Alexander want to press her for more details.
“None of this is rational,” Alexander said. He rubbed his red-tinted forehead. “I want to ask Chloe what she knows. She owes us.”
Janie’s face fell. “I don’t want to do that yet. Maybe she doesn’t know anything.” She recounted how Benjamin had insinuated on the phone that he and Chloe hadn’t seen one another for a while. “Then again, she seems to know that he’s out East somewhere.”
“How does she know? That’s all I want to know,” Alexander demanded.
Janie pressed a kiss onto his forehead and murmured, “I’m going to pour us some wine and put together a snack plate, okay?”
Alexander’s chest thrummed. For the ten minutes Janie was gone, he did nothing but glower out at the water, trying to imagine where his father was and what he was up to.
He couldn’t fathom what Janie and his father had spoken about on the phone.
Janie had said their conversation was brief, but what did “brief” mean in this context?
When Janie returned with wine, crackers, cheese, pretzels, and chips, the kids noticed and swarmed the porch. They dripped water everywhere, making their mother cackle. Alexander tried to play along with the family fun, but his mind was elsewhere. He hated how insane he felt.
Suddenly, his phone rang. For a minute, he thought it was his father, calling him to say he knew how upset he was. But it was Charlotte. Alexander went back inside to take the call.
“Hey,” he said. He sounded grumpier than he’d planned to.
“Hey! Um. Are you seeing this?” Charlotte asked. “From your tone, I guess you already saw it?”
Alexander sat on the sofa in the living room. “What now?”
Charlotte hesitated. “You know how you said someone was after you to ruin your reputation?”
Alexander couldn’t speak. Before Charlotte could explain, he searched his phone for his name and found the photograph.
He couldn’t believe it. It was the same photograph from all those years ago: twenty-three-year-old Alexander with a lighter and a stack of bills and drugs all around him.
Tio Angelo had taken it just an hour or so before the real fire began.
He’d had it all these years, preparing to use it when it most benefited him.
Incredibly, just as they had always used to, the photograph had the date written on it in orange lettering: JULY 4, 1998.
“I take it you saw the photograph?” Charlotte asked after a long time.
“Tio Angelo took it,” Alexander whispered. “You believe me when I tell you that I didn’t do it?”
Charlotte sighed deeply. “I believe you. We’ve been through too much not to believe each other at this point.”
“Have you talked to Nina?” Alexander asked.
“She’s still with her mother. I’m over at Vincent’s, hanging out till they’re done,” Charlotte said. “Still can’t believe Chloe’s here.” There was silence for a moment before she added, “Did Mom tell you what happened to Jefferson Albright yet?”
“No,” Alexander said. “Think there’s drama there?”
“Almost definitely,” Charlotte said. “This is the Whitmores we’re talking about.”
Alexander lay down on the sofa and stretched his legs all the way out. He felt exhausted.
“Want me to come over?” Charlotte asked. “I can bring beer or wine or whatever. We’ll get through this.”
“Yeah,” Alexander said. “The more people here, the better.”
Charlotte promised she’d get in the car right away.
Soon, it was Alexander, Charlotte, and Janie in front of the television, watching the fallout of Alexander’s life and career. The photograph was everywhere, along with the story, as journalists searched for every angle.
“Eldest son of the iconic Nantucket family responsible for arson? The eldest son of the wealthy Nantucket elite, accountable for the deaths of father, uncle, and brother?”
“But that’s not all! He’s a pilot now! Should he really be in the sky, responsible for all those people’s lives?”
“He’s a father, a husband! We’re investigating his children’s school system now to see if anyone sensed how truly unsociable he was.”
Going after everything, they even interviewed Alexander’s bosses and the CEO of the airline about Alexander’s imminent firing.
“We have a responsibility to the people who get in our planes every day,” the CEO said.
“I’m thinking of them and the entire Whitmore family when I say that Alexander Whitmore will not be returning to the airline any time soon.
An investigation has been ongoing for months, but these photographs, as well as the people who have come forward with information, paint a terrible picture of Alexander Whitmore that we can’t ignore. ”
For Alexander, it was strange to watch his own life melt away like this.
It was a life he’d spent numerous decades building after going to flight school.
It was a life he’d dreamed up right here on Nantucket Island.
Janie kept getting up to grab more wine and food that nobody drank and ate, as though she thought if she tended to everyone enough, the bad news would go away. But there was no saving this situation.
Eventually, Alexander started drinking wine, but he sensed he was drinking too fast, so he stopped.
Soon, Nina and Chloe came over, bringing Will and Fiona along with them.
They sensed disaster and wanted to be close to the rest of the family, chosen and not.
With mother and daughter standing side by side, it was apparent they were related.
Their noses and bright eyes were the same. Their mannerisms were the same.
Nina came over to hug her brother and whisper in his ear. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to figure this out.”
Alexander thanked her and bit his tongue to keep from saying, Sure, but how?
Will and Fiona scampered upstairs to meet their cousins for the first time.
Although Gwen, Xander, and Conor were a bit older than them, they could already tell that they’d been incorporated into whatever video game cycle they were into at the moment.
Alexander felt a pang of regret that he hadn’t given his children cousins till now.
Did they have other cousins over in Rome?
And then he remembered Jack’s children in Hawaii—the children he’d apparently left behind.
For what? Alexander hung his head and wondered if Jack was wherever he was, watching the footage of his eldest brother’s life falling apart.
Everyone had always counted on Alexander to be the best, the brightest, and the most reliable. Everyone had been wrong!
“There’s no arguing with a photograph, I guess,” Alexander said to the room.
Janie, Chloe, Nina, and Charlotte looked at him, their eyes filled with pity.
He got up, feeling itchy, and walked to the window as the newscaster discussed the fact that he hadn’t often volunteered at his children’s schools, which probably meant he wasn’t a doting father.
But Alexander had been flying himself and airline customers around the world for years and years.
He hadn’t had time to volunteer at school functions!
It was something he regretted! He was going to get better about that!
He’d already made this promise to himself and his wife.
What if Janie decided to leave him again after this? Maybe it was too long.
But suddenly, the newscaster on screen stopped talking and pressed her earpiece with the tip of her finger.
There was a look of intensity in her eyes, as though whatever she heard changed everything.
Alexander, his sisters, his father’s ex-mistress, and his wife bent forward, waiting for the next bit of news.
Was it about how Alexander had accidentally killed a goldfish one time?
Was it about how he’d gotten a speeding ticket six months ago? What now?
“I’m terribly sorry for the delay,” the newscaster said, sitting bolt upright.
“I’m told we have a call coming in. Someone who wants to talk about Alexander Whitmore.
A family member, if I’m not mistaken.” It was clear she thought this was a brilliant scoop, not something the other news channels had.
“We’re listening to him now. Hello?” She spoke more loudly to address the caller.
“Can you introduce yourself and explain your relationship to Alexander Whitmore?”
A man cleared his throat. Alexander froze with surprise and took a step away from the television, as though it were possessed. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t.
“My name is Benjamin Whitmore,” the voice said. And sure enough, it could only be him: that gritty voice, that confidence.
Janie, Chloe, Nina, and Charlotte got to their feet and gaped at the TV.
“I’m the father of Alexander Whitmore,” the man continued.
The newscaster had done her homework; she wasn’t having any of that.
“That can’t be true,” she said. “The father of Alexander Whitmore died during the Fourth of July fire of 1998. Alexander set the fire that ultimately led to the…”
But the voice interrupted her. “My name is Benjamin Whitmore. I’m his father. And I know for a fact that Alexander Whitmore didn’t set that fire.”
The newscaster scoffed. “How could you possibly know?”
“Because I set the fire,” Benjamin said. “That’s how.”
He hung up the phone, and the newscaster stared out at her thousands of viewers, speechless and stunned.