Mrs. Henderson laughed. “She’s the worst guard dog in the world.”
I’d met many of the worst guard dogs in the world and loved them all. “How old is she?”
“Eighteen months. Do you like dogs?”
“Adore them. My grandmother has a beagle.” My dad’s mom lavished her dog with even more indulgence than she did me and my brother.
“I’ve always had goldens, but one of my good friends has hounds. You should see her dog point.” She smiled fondly, then waved me up. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”
Ellie Mae trotted faithfully after us as Mrs. Henderson showed me the house. Along with the kitchen and living room, the first floor had a dining room and office. The latter opened into a fenced backyard. On the second floor, she pointed out her own bedroom and her late husband’s study. She smiled self-deprecatingly. “Sometimes I think about turning it into another rental, but I haven’t had the heart.”
To reach the third floor, we climbed a narrow staircase with steps sloping downward in the center. This floor was a single hall, light spilling in from windows on both ends. Mrs. Henderson pushed open a door. “Here we are.”
White walls brightened a tiny room with a slanted ceiling. A braided oval rug, blue and white, lay on the pale wooden floor. One of the two twin beds had been neatly made up with white linens and a comforter, while clothes covered the disheveled second. A nightstand with a turquoise lamp stood under the window between the beds.
“This used to be the maid’s room, when the house was first built. I’ve tried to make it a little nicer, though.”
“It’s great.” I rolled my suitcase to the free bed, and looked out thewindow. I could see Mrs. Henderson’s yard, filled with purple flowers and a delicate bird bath, and the neighbors’ yards, too, since the cottages were so close together. “Thanks so much.”
“The bathroom’s across the hall—you and Jane will be the only two using it. The other room up here is for storage.” She handed me a key. “Welcome to Nantucket.”
After she left, I hung my dresses in the hall closet and lined up my shoes below the bed. I tucked Horse, my childhood companion, under the covers. The site of a ragged stuffed cat on my new roommate’s pillow comforted me.
I’d done it. I was here.
Now what?
Muted merriment floated in through the open window. At home, only the unchanging song of crickets filled summer evenings, a more calming noise than this one, which tugged at my chest and made me feel like I should be out there, laughing and shrieking and living.
Okay. I was only feeling weird because I was lonely, which would go away after I started my job in two days. No reason to start wondering if I’d made the right choice. Of course I’d made the right choice. I’d spent the last three months holding on to the idea of Nantucket like it was a lifesaver. You couldn’t long for something—lustfor it—then feel hollow as soon as you achieved it.
Could you?
I felt like I’d abandoned Mom.
I knew I hadn’t, technically; she had Dad, who was fairly competent at humaning (not too competent; if I asked him a particularly thorny question while he was walking, he would literallystop walkingin order to think, and I’d have to go back and retrieve him). And Mom had her temple friends and college bestie and friends from her Children of Survivors group and the parents ofmyfriends whoshe’d befriended. And she had Dave, my brother, I supposed.
Come to think of it, Mom had alotof people. Only sometimes I didn’t think she realized it. Sometimes she seemed to think she was all alone.
She wasn’t, of course. Even if none of those others had existed, she hadme.
Except I’d left her.
“Get yourself together,” I muttered, sinking down into my new bed. Shoulders back. Deep breaths. I considered calling Mom, but she’d sense my panic. Then she’d panic, and we’d descend in an escalating spiral of panic. So I sent her a cheerful selfie instead and called Niko.
My best friend’s face filled my phone, framed by a Stanford dorm room. “Hey! Are you there? How is it?”
“So beachy, you wouldn’t believe it, and there are roses everywhere. Wait, are you wearing lipstick? Are thosebangs?”
“Badass, right?” Niko turned her head so I could admire her high-low cut and the straight shot of bangs across her forehead. “I’m reinventing myself.”
“You look amazing.”
“I know. I figured no one here knows I’ve never worn lipstick in my life, so why not. Did you know people put on a lip primerbeforethey put on lipstick? What the hell?”
“How’s Palo Alto?”
“Everyone bikes everywhere, and no one jaywalks, and they call highways freeways, which is cute. How is bougie island life? Are you wearing cardigans and pearls yet? Is everyone white?”
