But now I noticed the tension radiating from the adults like distorted air around a fire. Everyone seemed tauter, sharper than usual. Like the adults, too, were preparing to put on a play, and their story line wasEverything is perfect in the Barbanel family.
Uncle Harry’s voice boomed from across the room. “I amnotgoing to move my car!”
The triplets scattered.
I wasn’t far behind them.
Outside, the world was still, as though a raging storm hadn’t swept through a few days ago, sending the sea into a temper, churning the waters and sky. Today was almost warm, the sky a few shades lighter than a robin’s egg, and no breeze rustled the air. I strolled across the lawn, inhaling deeply. Everything smelled like pine and the sea.
I texted Tyler as I walked up his drive, and he opened the door as soon as I reached it. In his pajama pants and cotton shirt, he looked like a sleepy Prince Charming. I couldn’t help but smile. “Hi. Get your skates.”
He yawned and rubbed his hair. Some of the fine strands rose straight up as he lowered his hand. “Has anyone ever told you you’re bossy?”
“Yes.”
He let me inside. “Give me a sec to grab my stuff.”
I waited in the entryway, taking in the decorations: a few holiday candles surrounded by holly; a worn rug, ancient but impeccably made; and a painting I hadn’t noticed before of a blonde in her underwear, insouciantly pushing a vacuum cleaner, red-lipped like Marilyn Monroe.
“The dealer called it ‘perfect for intimate spaces,’ ” someone said behind me, and I turned to see Robin, bundled up in a cozy sweater depicting a polar bear drinking a hot beverage. Robin,too, held a mug, a hazelnut scent wafting from it. “Code for ‘you might not want to hang it where everyone can see it.’ ”
“But you did.”
“She’s too good to hide.” Robin sipped her coffee. “What are you two up to today?”
“We’re going skating.”
“Are you?” Her brows rose. “Fun.”
Tyler bounded back into the room, now wearing jeans and a cabled sweater, skates in one hand, phone in the other. He drew to a stop. “Hi.”
“Morning.” Robin gave him a once-over. “Do you have your gloves?”
Tyler must have been stronger than me, because he forbore to roll his eyes. “Yes, Mom.”
Soon we were in his car, pulling out of the drive. “Where are we headed?” he asked.
“Maxcy Pond. You know the turnoff?”
“Of course.” He looked insulted.
I suppressed a smile, glancing out the window at the long stretches of snow-covered lawns and hedges. In barely any time at all, we pulled over into a little parking space alongside Cliff Road. A narrow path cut through the thicket to Maxcy Pond. The Nantucket Anglers Club had owned it for years before selling it to the Land Bank, which cared for much of the island’s nature. Now it was a popular ice-skating spot.
By the trunk of the car, I swapped my boots for my skates. Tyler sat down next to me. “Ice-skating, huh.”
“You said the best kind of practice mimicked actual conditions. I figured I could get my adrenaline pumping to mimic how nervous I’ll actually be talking to Isaac,” I said. “Skating seems perfect.”
“Fair warning”—slower than me, he removed his boots and tugged on his skates—“I can’t skate.”
I stared at him, appalled. “But—you own skates!”
“What kind of bougie New Yorker would I be if I didn’t?”
“I guess you’re not a real bougie New Yorker,” I said. “You’re from LA.”
He laughed up at me as he tied the laces. “I’m trying my best.”
“It’s easy,” I promised, though I remembered when skating hadn’t been, when I’d wobbled each time one of my feet left the ice, when I’d toppled over at the slightest provocation.
