Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
It was the surprise of Nora’s life when Uncle Everett told her what he had in store for her.
Standing on the beach in front of the Greenaway house, his hands on his hips, he smiled that menacing but also sort of handsome smile—a smile that helped him to get whatever he wanted, and said, “You told Ollie you want to work in magazines, right? And he’s arranged something for you. An internship at Girl Mag.”
Nora was on her hands and knees, playing in the sand with Mona.
At first, she couldn’t fathom what her uncle meant.
And then, her heart sped up like an engine, and she jumped to her feet.
“I don’t understand,” she said. She was sixteen years old.
Did sixteen-year-olds have internships? They certainly didn’t get them in New Hampshire.
Her uncle seemed unperturbed. “It’s only two weeks.
I’ve told Cynthia you’ll be going away and that we need to arrange for another temporary sitter.
It’s ridiculous that you’re watching the kids this much anyway.
When I was your age, I had numerous internships, and I always spent August in the South of France.
I’m trying to help you reclaim your life.
Somebody has to. Your Aunt Cynthia seems to think you can do it all on your own.
All she does is take and take and take.”
Nora thanked her uncle, trying to read his face for some sense of how she would need to repay him or Ollie for this gift. But she knew she was too naive to understand what was really needed from her.
That night, after the kids fell asleep, Nora went to her bedroom to start packing.
Her uncle had told her she’d be leaving in three days.
The plan was that after the ferry, she’d take the bus from Hyannis to the city, where one of the magazine’s employees would meet her and take her to the dorm room where she’d stay during her time there.
It terrified but exhilarated her to think of living in the city by herself.
She imagined herself strolling the streets, drinking coffee like a grown-up, editing magazine articles at her desk, and attending photo shoots and interviews.
She imagined being so good at this internship that her boss would tell her to skip not only the rest of high school but college as well.
“You should start work right away,” she’d say. “You’re just that smart.”
Max didn’t take the news well. Newly in love, which meant that, as teenagers, they were obsessed with each other.
For them, two weeks felt like an eternity to be away from one another.
Late that night, after Nora had snuck out to spend hours with Max at a beach around the bend from the Greenaway house, he told her not to trust anything the Greenaways wanted to give her.
“But this is my career, Max,” she told him. “I’ve lost so much in my life. I have to build what’s next.”
Max looked confused and stricken. He kissed her cheeks, her lips, and her hands, begging her to stay. But it was then that she came up with a perfect solution.
“Come visit me in the city,” she said. “I’m not sharing my dorm room with anyone. You can stay with me when you’re there. And then, we can come back together.”
This invigorated things again. Max said he’d never been to the city.
In fact, he’d hardly ever been off the island.
He thought about his schedule, about what he could get away with, and told her that he could probably come visit her on her fifth or sixth day and stay till the end of her internship.
Nora was so excited that she threw her arms around him and wept.
“Don’t cry, baby,” he said, kissing her tears away.
That night, when Nora crept back into bed and tried and failed to sleep, she wondered if this was the man she’d spend the rest of her life with.
She pictured them years from now, living in Manhattan.
She’d work at a major magazine, and he’d do whatever it was Max was going to do.
She’d pictured him as a writer of novels, but maybe that wasn’t right.
Maybe he wanted to run a hotel. Maybe he wanted to become a chef and only serve celebrities.
Maybe they would have the most sensational of stories. She couldn’t wait to see what happened.
It was the first time she’d felt that way since her parents’ deaths. Optimistic. Ready for something else.
The trip to Manhattan was terribly exciting.
Nora had brought three novels with her, but she couldn’t focus on any of them and instead stared out the window of the bus, thinking about the future.
When they reached the city, she popped out, grabbed her suitcase, and turned to find a young woman in her twenties waving for her.
She held up a little sign that read: NORA.
It was just like in the movies, when people were picked up at the airport.
The woman was also an intern, as it turned out. Her name was Caroline. “I’m going to Columbia University,” she explained as they hustled through the bus station and into a taxi. “But because I’m in college, they told me I’m your boss. I’m the boss of all the interns, I guess.”
“What do you do at the magazine?” Nora asked.
Caroline said she did a bit of everything.
“Writing. Editing. Calling photographers. Arranging interviews. I’ve been there since the end of the spring semester, which was like two months ago.
So I sort of know the ropes at this point.
” She talked faster than anyone Nora had ever met.
It seemed likely to Nora that Caroline would one day run the entire magazine and that she was decades ahead of Nora in knowledge.
The cab took them to the dormitory, where Caroline led her to her room.
It was simple, with a twin bed, a mirror, and a dresser.
The bathroom was down the hall, which she would share with the other girls on the floor.
“But they’re not all interns at our magazine,” Caroline said.
“They’re interning all over. Some of them are in finance.
Some of them are in marketing. All of them are around your age, sixteen, seventeen, still in high school.
I did this high school internship program, too.
But back then, I saw myself more as a mathematical type.
I wanted to go into finance. Imagine!” She shook her head, as though, at twenty-one, she thought of her teenage self as a fool.
After Nora dropped off her things at the dorm, Caroline took her back to the office to meet the other interns and get comfortable.
It was a little past three in the afternoon, which meant that most people would remain at the office for another three hours, if not more.
The magazine was published biweekly, so a deadline was always around the corner.
Three other high school interns were there to observe, write whatever they could, and, often, fetch coffee for the upper writers and editors.
Martha, Cecily, and Rachel were all from Connecticut and aspired to attend Harvard.
It had never occurred to Nora to apply to Harvard.
But maybe, because she wanted to fit in, she told them she was planning to apply to Harvard, too.
Perhaps her uncle could help her get in.
After a few hours of getting a feel for things, the high school interns were told they were done for the day.
Martha suggested they grab drinks at a nearby rooftop bar where she knew the bartender and could get them beers.
Nora had never so much as touched alcohol before her parents died, and now it felt like someone was giving her beer and champagne at every turn.
Was this what living was all about? But she went along with it, nursing her beer from the top of a gorgeous mid-century building.
She couldn’t believe how good-looking everyone on the rooftop was.
They drank cocktails and looked at one another as though they were all bored with how wonderful it all was.
Only Nora and the other high school interns looked excited.
“Here’s to the best two weeks of our lives!” Cecily shrieked. They clinked beers.
It didn’t take long for Nora to learn that the other interns knew people in the industry, which was how they’d gotten these gigs.
Cecily was forthright about it, telling them that her father was high up in finance at People magazine.
Martha eventually admitted that her great-uncle was the mayor of New York City and that he could make a phone call and get her in anywhere.
Rachel said that her mother used to work at the magazine before taking a very long leave of absence to raise her six children.
“She’ll never go back to working, but she likes to say she will one day. ” Rachel shrugged.
Eventually, they all turned to look at Nora, willing her to tell them how she’d gotten the position. Obviously, Nora couldn’t say that she’d gotten it because she was “just that brilliant.” They wanted to know who she knew.
“Um? Well. My uncle knows a guy who got me in,” she said.
“Who’s your uncle?” Cecily asked.
“His name is Everett Greenaway,” Nora said.
Immediately, their faces transformed.
“Not Everett Greenaway from Nantucket?” Cecily gasped.
Nora had a horrible, sickly feeling in her stomach. “Yeah. I live there with him and my aunt. And their kids. My parents died. Sort of recently.”
Rachel made a face. “You poor thing.”
“But Everett Greenaway, I mean, he has real money,” Martha said, both impressed and frightened.
Nora didn’t really know what that meant. What was “real” money versus whatever they had? Why was Uncle Everett on a pedestal? Didn’t a dollar weigh the same no matter who you were?
“But that’s the story I was telling you yesterday,” Cecily said suddenly, turning to look at Rachel. “The party I was talking about? That was at the Greenaway place on Nantucket.”
Rachel’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”
Nora wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“You must know what happened a few years ago,” Cecily said to her. “Maybe you were even there? I wasn’t. My parents told me I was too young. They left me at the beach house we rented down the way from the Greenaways. But they were there. They were there when someone started screaming.”
Nora gaped at her. “What happened?”
Cecily was clearly pleased to be the one to deliver this news. “I can’t believe you don’t know! I mean, you live there.”
“Just tell me,” Nora said, growing impatient.
Cecily sipped her beer, biding her time.
“Someone was killed that night. An islander. My parents wouldn’t tell me exactly how he died.
But I heard them say that there was a rumor about him.
Apparently, he was having an affair with your aunt, and your uncle wasn’t exactly thrilled about it.
” Cecily wagged her eyebrows. “What do you think about that?”
Nora didn’t know what to say. Shock overcame her.
She pictured that beautiful party, the same one where Max had first kissed her.
She imagined screaming, maybe a body floating in the pool, or a person staggering around with a knife in his back.
Was it possible that her Uncle Everett had killed someone?
She pictured him, smiling down at her, telling her that she was going to Manhattan for an internship. Had he tried to get her out of the way?
With another horrible wave of nausea, she remembered her Aunt Cynthia getting into that stranger’s sports car.
If Uncle Everett was really capable of killing someone, if he really killed whoever she slept with, why was Aunt Cynthia still with him?
More than that, why would she put someone at risk of death?
Was that a part of the game, too? Nora still hadn’t said anything. Her thoughts consumed her.
“Look at her face,” Cecily said, laughing at Nora. The other two giggled, too.
“Are you making fun of me?” Nora asked finally, feeling strangled. Maybe they were making it up.
“No!” Cecily assured her. Her smile went away in an instant. “I wouldn’t. It’s an awful story. But a pretty great one, too. Don’t you think?”
After they finished their beers, the other interns wanted another round.
But Nora had too much on her mind to stay and talk about anything else: about nail polish or cool bars they wanted to check out (with the hopes that they would serve them) or books they’d read.
She wandered the packed streets of Manhattan until she grew lost and afraid.
What had seemed so magical and mysterious upon first arrival now seemed mean-spirited and apt to swallow her.
Eventually, she found a payphone, where she planned to call Max and tell him what she’d learned about her uncle and a supposed murder.
But as soon as she found a quarter in her pocket, she remembered she didn’t know Max’s phone number!
The only way they’d seen each other since they’d met was by Max seeking her out.
She slammed the receiver down, frustrated and alone.