It turned out it was very, very hard to get in touch with the chairman of the board of an exceedingly wealthy company. Emails, phone calls, DMs all went unanswered. However. Wills and ways.
“I talked to Ms. Chowdhury at the library,” I told my parents over breakfast, two weeks after the box arrived. “Her sister-in-law knows someone with a family friend whose daughter owns a bookstore on Nantucket. She said she might be able to get me a summer job there.”
Mom practically spit out her coffee.“What?”
“That was a very long list of people,” Dad said. “Did you remember all of them or make some up?”
“Since I can’t get in touch with Edward Barbanel, I thought I’d go to him.”
“You’re not going to Nantucket for thewhole summer.”
Dad sighed. “No one ever listens to me.”
“Why not? I need a summer job.”
“Not inNantucket.” Mom’s voice rose several decibels. “Don’t you think you’re being a little extreme? What about the library? You like working there!”
“Think of what a good college essay this would make. Youknowhow competitive scholarships are.” I’d need a full ride to afford a private college, and while my grades were decent, a good essay could set me apart. Especially if I showcased how my devotion to studying history wassostrong, I’d spent my entire summer digging into primary sources about my family. Hopefully that kind of dedication would impress the admissions boards—because honestly, something needed to. Scholarships weren’t exactly flying off the shelves for prospective history majors.
“Honey...”
Okay, I might not get a scholarship no matter what, but I didn’t want to hear it. “Niko and Haley and Brooke aren’t home this summer anyway. What’s the point of staying?”
Mom’s face cleared as though she’d been struck by understanding. “This is about Matt, isn’t it? Abby, I know you’re upset—”
“Oh my god, Mom, not everything is about some stupid boy.” Though admittedly, Ireallydidn’t want to see Matt, especially after his gracious offer to be “casual” post breaking up with me.
Dad wisely picked up his tea and retreated from the room.
“Are you sure? You read the letters two weeks after you and Matt broke up. You’re fixated on them. You can’t run away from things, Abby.”
My stomach clamped up, squeezing tight around the hurt inside of me. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Abby, honey—” Mom’s face melted and she reached for me.
I evaded her touch. “I’m seventeen. I’m funding this and leaving for college next year anyway. I’m not doing anything dangerous.”
“I don’t understand why you care so much about this!”
“I don’t understand why you don’t! It’s a huge gap in O’ma’s life.”
“Why don’t we compromise and go for a weekend?”
“Mom, I don’t want tobehere this summer!”
She froze. Her voice came out soft and small. “Oh.”
Regret rose immediately. We were twined together, Mom and I, our emotions rising and falling based on the other’s. “I’m sorry. Just—I want to find out more about O’ma. Don’t you? Aren’t you alittlebit curious?”
She shrugged one shoulder, a gesture reminiscent of her mother. “She didn’t tell me, so I don’t know why I should care.”
I wasn’t buying her cavalier act.You’re far too proud,E had written. Maybe O’ma hadn’t been the only one.
I’d spent my entire life watching how hurt Mom became whenever O’ma stonewalled her. Their relationship had been strained in a way ours had never been, filled with tense silences andit doesn’t matterandhow morbid. Maybe Mom really believed what she’d told me: maybe if O’ma hadn’t wanted to tell her, she didn’t want to know.
But I didn’t believe it. I knew my mother; I’d seen the look in her eyes when we read the letters. O’ma mattered so very, very deeply to Mom. And while she might be too proud to seek out her mother’s past, I didn’t have to pretend not to care. I could do this for her. Go to Nantucket. Find Edward Barbanel. Find out about O’ma’s past.
And at the end of the day, what could my parents protest? A nice summer job at a nice bookstore in a nice town? One of Mom’scolleagues even had an aunt on Nantucket with a room to rent (or at least a bed in a room, if I didn’t mind sharing). So my parents drove me to Hyannis for the ferry (Dave came, too, but he mostly played video games). Mom asked over and over if I’d packed my toothbrush and my vitamins and my acne cream until I burst out I wasn’t anidiot, and she looked horribly sad, and I felt like a monster. They stood on the ferry dock and watched me go. Dad wrapped his arm around Mom’s shoulder, and she leaned into him. For the first time, they looked small. They waved and waved and I waved back, unsure of what would happen if I turned away before they did, if it would be better or worse to snap the cord.
