Chapter 27
TARA
Posey chatters easily with the other children in the storytelling room. Cameron would love to see it. Once refreshment time ends, I take Posey's sticky hand in mine. "It's been a long afternoon. Ready to go?"
Before we reach the doors, a neatly dressed woman with a scarf steps out from behind a reference desk.
"Miss Posey," she says, her voice carrying the cultured accent of old Nantucket families. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Then she turns to me. "Hello. I'm Gladys Webster, director of the Nantucket Atheneum. I heard about our young storyteller and wanted to welcome her personally."
"I'm one of her nannies, Tara Thompson."
"You heard my story about Salty and the whale?" Posey asks.
"I did indeed. But I also wanted to give you a VIP tour. Your family has extraordinarily deep roots in this institution."
I'm unsure where this is leading, but I sense something significant.
Posey's face lights up. "Can we take the tour, Tara?"
"Of course we may."
We follow Ms. Webster through marble hallways, stopping before an imposing portrait of a stern-faced couple in formal 18th-century dress.
"Your great-great-grandparents helped establish this institution in 1834. These are your ancestors." She points to the brass nameplate. "The name is right there—Abernathy."
"They don't look very happy," Posey says. "Why aren't they smiling?"
"People didn't smile much in those days when their image was recorded," says Ms. Webster. "Now, let's move forward.
Ms. Webster leads us deeper into the building. "Here we are—this is the Abernathy Wing."
Posey pauses mid-step. "Wing? What does that mean? Does it fly?"
I suppress a smile at her literal four-year-old logic.
"We call it a 'wing' when part of a building has been added or dedicated," Ms. Webster explains. "Usually because someone made a generous donation."
"I want to do that when I grow up."
"Well, you already have this wing," Gladys says with a gentle smile. "But you're welcome to add another someday."
"So this is my wing," Posey declares. She spins around, taking in the grand space with obvious delight.
"What are these pointy things?" Posey asks. She presses her nose against the glass case, leaving a small smudge.
"Arrowheads," Ms. Webster replies. "They've been discovered all over Nantucket through the years."
"Did the Indians give them to us?"
"Well," Gladys says carefully, "by the time most of these were collected, many Wampanoag people had already left the island. Some artifacts may have been gifts. Most were found during the construction of houses, schools, and churches."
"What were arrows used for?" she asks, turning those curious blue eyes toward me.
"Um... well, before there were grocery stores, people had to hunt for their food."
"So they used the arrow to find an animal, aim at it, shoot it, and then eat it?" Posey asks.
"Essentially, yes," I say weakly. I glance at Ms. Webster for backup.
She kneels beside Posey, explaining the unique stones and how arrowheads were crafted. Surprisingly, the technical details hold Posey's attention completely.
"Can you still find arrowheads in the ground?" she asks when the explanation concludes.
"Sometimes. You read about discoveries in the papers from time to time."
Posey whirls around to face me, eyes sparkling with a new mission. "Tara, I want to find an arrowhead!"
Suddenly, I hear footsteps echoing across the marble floor behind us.
A male voice echoes off the marble.
"Well, well. Look what we have here."
I turn to see Jason Abernathy approaching with that predatory smile I remember from the Swain-Black dinner.
He moves toward Posey with practiced confidence. "Hey Posey, it's your Uncle Jason. Can I have a hug?"
He kneels and allows her to put her little arms around him.
"Hi Uncle Jason," she says politely, quick to step away.
Ms. Webster straightens, clearly recognizing him. "Mr. Abernathy. How nice to see you."
"I was just in the neighborhood, conducting some business with my attorney," Jason says, rising gracefully. "On impulse, I thought I'd come in and visit."
The way he says “attorney” gives me an unsettling feeling.
"Uncle Jason, did you know this is my wing?" Posey asks with innocent pride.
I watch Jason's jaw tighten almost imperceptibly.
How will he respond to this?
"Well, is that so?"
Ms. Webster and I exchange glances as the tension thickens in the room.
"Please don't let me interrupt Posey's educational experience," Jason continues smoothly. "Though I hope you're sharing the complete family history."
He steps closer to the portrait of the Abernathy ancestors, his presence somehow making the spacious hall feel smaller.
"It's fascinating how perspectives can change, isn't it?" he says conversationally. "What seems permanent one day can be reassessed the next. Especially when new information comes to light."
"Tara, I want to go find arrowheads now," Posey says, tugging on my hand. Her usual chatter has quieted, and I suspect she's picking up on the adult tensions swirling around her.
"Of course." I squeeze her hand reassuringly, grateful for the excuse to leave. "Ms. Webster, thank you so much for the tour."
"My pleasure entirely," she replies, though she keeps glancing nervously at Jason.
As we move toward the exit, Jason falls into step beside us.
"Enjoy your arrowhead hunting," he calls after us once we reach the main doors. "Though I'd be careful about digging too deep. You never know what you might uncover."
The warning follows us out into the afternoon sunlight. Had he been following us? Was this a warning of sorts? He's planning something. It's now clear he wants his share of the Abernathy fortune.
How far is he willing to go to get it?