“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.
