Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Present Day
That afternoon at one thirty, Francesca, Allegra, and Lorelei drove to the White Oak Lodge to begin cooking for the party.
Just as Benjamin had said, the kitchen in the hotel part of the Lodge was ready to go with state-of-the-art appliances and every sort of kitchen gadget imaginable.
Francesca and her daughters strode around, picking various items up and watching them shine in the modern lights.
In the distance, down one hall or another, they could hear the construction crew, following the orders of the Whitmores as they returned the White Oak Lodge to its former glory.
Francesca felt a throbbing in her chest. It’s showtime, she thought, using an incredibly American-sounding expression. She made herself laugh.
“What’s gotten into you?” Allegra asked as she rolled out dough for fresh pasta, coating herself in flour.
“We have to entertain ourselves in this life,” Francesca said. “Who else will do it for us?”
Lorelei and Allegra chuckled. Eventually, they turned on a little speaker one of them had brought from the rental house to play Italian music that reminded them both of summers in Nantucket.
“You always played this when we were growing up,” Allegra said, waving around a knife.
Francesca knew the words to every song they played and sang exuberantly, surprised by how full her voice sounded in her chest. When she’d been diagnosed with cancer, she’d half assumed the cancer would attack every last piece of her.
Maybe it still will if I don’t take care of it sooner, a voice inside her head said.
She dismissed it, reminding herself that her time at the Lodge mattered more than anything else.
She hadn’t seen Benjamin since their first meeting at the Lodge, a meeting that had ended with an emotional hug and a promise to plan the family party.
Francesca was especially apprehensive because her entire family (minus Jack, she supposed) would be together for the first time.
She felt that everything needed to be perfect.
Maybe if it’s perfect, she thought, Jack will know it’s safe to come home.
But the minute she thought it, she dismissed the idea as outrageous.
Wherever Jack was, he probably wasn’t in the corner of their lives, spying on them.
Footsteps rang down the hall to the kitchen, bringing Nina and Charlotte into their world of music, food, and tradition.
Allegra and Lorelei stopped what they were doing to scoop their other sisters into hugs.
The sight of her four daughters together shattered Francesca’s heart.
Even Nina, Nina who wasn’t hers, looked profoundly like the other daughters.
Nina’s eyes filled with tears as she clutched Allegra and Lorelei, telling them, “I never went a single day without thinking about you. I can’t believe we’re all here. ”
With Nina in the kitchen, everyone had to speak English, which nobody minded.
Often, Francesca still cursed herself for how she’d treated Nina, boxing her out of her traditional language and sending her off to live with Great-Aunt Genevieve.
Maybe because of this guilt, she showered Nina with compliments and asked her to taste-test all the sauces for her opinion.
“I’m not the chef here,” Nina said. “I’m not even Italian!”
“You’re Italian,” Allegra chimed in. “You grew up eating the same recipes we did. Your palate must have developed from an early age.”
Nina blushed but looked pleased to be included in these beautiful memories of simple days, seated around a table with their parents and siblings.
Not long after that, Alexander swung into the kitchen to say hello. He kissed Francesca on both cheeks and announced, “We’ve set everything up in the dining hall. You’re going to love it, Mama. It’s a divine occasion for the best chef I’ve ever known.”
“Don’t tease me about my cooking.” Francesca put her hands on her hips.
But Alexander was serious. “All a man like me ever wants is his mother’s cooking,” he explained.
“It’s all we want as well,” Allegra admitted of herself and Lorelei. “But we have to keep it a secret from Lorelei’s husband. He’s a chef.”
“A chef!” Alexander clapped his hands. “I have to get over to Rome soon.”
“You really do,” Lorelei chimed in.
A few minutes later, as Francesca followed Alexander down the hall from the kitchen to the dining area, Francesca felt a churning anxiety in her stomach.
Everything in the refurbished areas of the Lodge smelled of new paint, plaster, and brick.
The color they’d chosen for the hallway was a dark forest green, luxurious and deep.
She wondered which of her children had decided on the color, which of them had such exquisite taste.
When they entered the dining hall, Francesca felt herself drop into what felt like thousands of memories.
She remembered grand White Oak Lodge parties, celebrated actresses in silk dresses, men drinking Old Fashioneds and telling one another how much money they made, and the Whitmores standing proud, interspersed among the rest, pleased with the world they’d created.
But today, Francesca was alone with her little Whitmore family: Alexander, Lorelei, Allegra, Charlotte, Nina, and, of course, Benjamin, who stood from the head of the table and hurried to take Francesca’s hands in his.
Francesca’s heart thumped. The same wonderful Italian music they’d listened to in the kitchen was piped from invisible speakers, giving the space an ethereal feel.
Out of the large windows, you could see the thrashing ocean and those same dark clouds.
It was freezing out there but cozy in here.
A small fire filled the fireplace nearest them, a flame in a place that flames had destroyed. Nobody seemed anxious about it.
“Look at us, the Whitmores, back together,” Benjamin breathed, his thumb tracing a circle across Francesca’s hand.
Except for Jack, Francesca wanted to say. We’re missing an essential piece of our family.
“I can’t believe it,” Francesca said finally. “It’s like a dream.”
Francesca returned to the kitchen to help Allegra and Lorelei bring out platter after platter of delightful Italian food and plenty of fish, dishes that pulsated with Francesca’s favorite flavors.
There was fresh bread from a Nantucket bakery that Francesca had been surprised to learn was fantastic, if expensive, and she broke the bread, letting bits crumble across an exquisite piece of China.
Where had they gotten this? She couldn’t remember it from the previous White Oak Lodge dining room.
Here, sitting at the table—opposite Benjamin so that she could see every single one of her children’s faces—she felt a wave of fear crash over her.
Where was it coming from? Am I worried that now that we’re back together, everything will fall apart again?
It was all she could suddenly think about.
Now that we love each other again and the Lodge will reopen, and we acknowledged the darkness of our shared past, the cancer would take every last bit of me and destroy them again.
Benjamin raised his glass of wine and locked eyes with Francesca.
“I don’t know how anyone makes a speech on such an occasion,” he said finally, his voice breaking.
“The fact that we’re all together again after so many years apart fills me with a sense of completion that I can’t fully name.
It has been the honor of my life to be your father.
Now that we plan to work together for the foreseeable future and reopen the Lodge, I know we will find new ways to argue, make amends, and love each other.
I know we will create a brand-new era for our children and their children, and so on.
We have so much to be grateful for and so much work ahead of us.
I love you.” Benjamin’s eyes glinted with tears.
Benjamin Whitmore hadn’t said “I love you” to Francesca Whitmore in twenty-seven years. It was something Benjamin had neglected to say for nearly a year of their marriage—a year when he’d mainly taken to bed to mourn his brother. Francesca swallowed the pain back down.
All in all, Francesca knew that Benjamin’s speech was imperfect, that it didn’t reckon with what he’d done to their family and the mess he’d made of things. But it felt like a fantastic start. So she raised her glass, whispered, “Yes, darling,” and felt a single tear drift down her cheek.
Allegra broke the spell with an announcement. “I think you’ve outdone yourself, Mama,” she said of the pasta, grinning at her. “And that’s truly saying something.”
Lorelei agreed, citing the fresh herbs and spices and the sensational texture.
Francesca blushed as the rest of her children and the man she’d once loved turned uproarious, telling her how divine the feast was.
Being mostly Italian, her kids spoke all at once, interrupting each other and creating a terrific din over the table, one that made Francesca feel as though they were a real and inspired family, a messy family, a family who would never part again.
At some point, their conversation turned to the upcoming summer, when the White Oak Lodge would open its doors to guests for the first time.
“It isn’t so hard to imagine now that the dining hall is mostly finished,” Alexander said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’ll be honest, when Amos and I first talked about refurbishing the place, I thought we’d be in over our heads immediately,” Nina said, speaking of her new boyfriend, a handsome man who’d run around with Jack in the old days.
“But it’s really coming together. If we don’t have too many minor construction disasters, I think we’ll be right on time and ready to go. ”
“We need to work out the logistics of the activities,” Charlotte said. “I’m thinking about the horses and the tennis courts and the pools and so on. These are what the guests spend their time with. We have to make sure their schedules are fluid.”
“I’ll leave that up to you,” Benjamin joked, reaching for another platter of pasta. “Your mother was always wonderful at handling schedules and finding a method to the madness of this place.”
Francesca blushed, feeling her children’s eyes on her.
But it was true that she had pushed past logistic blockades and demanded of the system.
Yes, it’d always been done this way, but what if there was a better solution?
This happened during the years after Ronald’s death, when Benjamin needed a worthy partner to manage the things he couldn’t emotionally manage himself.
As a result, Francesca was proud to remember that their revenue had skyrocketed, and they’d even been able to raise their prices slightly, a result of everyone clambering for more time at the Lodge anyway.
It was sought-after—because of Francesca and her talents, she knew.
“Maybe new guests will come because we’re so interesting,” Lorelei said sarcastically. “They’ll want to come get a look at us Whitmores.”
“You think we’re a spectacle?” Nina asked.
Allegra shrugged in half agreement. “We’ve certainly shown the world how dramatic we can be.” Some of them chuckled, although Francesca couldn’t muster the strength.
Nina considered this, setting her fork down with a soft clank.
“I didn’t know that my ex-husband always regarded me as a Whitmore,” she said.
“He pretended he didn’t really know about me or our family or where I’d come from, but he always did.
Apparently, he was biding his time until I led him to the Whitmore treasure, if you can believe it.
But he’s an anthropologist. I think something about that story excited him.
Maybe he thought it was the thing that would really take his career into the stratosphere. Who knows?”
“Oh, Nina, that’s terrible.” Allegra furrowed her brow. “What a monster.”
Nina shrugged, as though she’d already forgiven him and moved on, although it was impossible so soon after her discovery. Her children no longer had their father. Their family was broken beyond repair.
“But it’s a good thought,” Allegra said, suddenly excited. “The Whitmore treasure! Maybe we can get the word out about it.”
“Oh, interesting,” Charlotte chimed in. “We can advertise the Lodge as, like, the shipwreck that we dredged up from the deep.”
“Everyone loves the idea of hidden treasure,” Alexander agreed thoughtfully.
“I don’t know if that has any longevity,” Benjamin interjected. “Doesn’t it cheapen what we offer here? The luxuries of the Lodge?”
The Whitmore children considered this. But Francesca felt each of her children had a point: that the Lodge’s provocative story could get people through the doors after so many years.
“The kids are telling me it’s a difficult market,” she said.
“Anything that can put our name in people’s minds again should help us.
” She wouldn’t tell them what she thought she knew about the treasure.
She wasn’t sure what kind of mess that would make.
Benjamin’s face glowed with happiness, as though the fact that Francesca wanted to offer her opinion at all thrilled him. “The treasure angle it is, then,” he said. “Lady Whitmore has spoken, and she’s the greatest mind we have.”
Francesca rolled her eyes into laughter and took another bite of food. “The Whitmore treasure,” she said when she’d swallowed. “It’s been a rumor since I came to Nantucket.” But I couldn’t have fathomed what that rumor would do to my life, she thought.
“It’s been a rumor going back to the beginning of the Lodge,” Benjamin said.
“And you never looked for it?” Alexander asked his father.
“Of course, we looked,” Benjamin said. “My brother and I. Sometimes your Aunt Quinn would join us. But we always got distracted or nervous in the tunnels by ourselves.”
“How far do those tunnels go, Dad?” Charlotte asked.
Benjamin raised his shoulders. “They dug them so many years ago that there’s no remaining record of their plan.
Maybe one of these days, we’ll get down there and create a brand-new map for future Whitmores.
But for now, I’m more focused on what we can do above ground, away from what your Tio Angelo was up to, away from the past.”