Will went three photos back to show a beautiful woman in her mid-forties on a jazz club stage, belting her soul into the microphone.Although she hadn’t seen her since they were twenty years old, Ella would have known that woman anywhere.“It’s Stevie!”she cried.
Will and Ella investigated further.They discovered that the photo had been taken last night at a jazz club in Detroit, of all places.She’d dueted with not only a guitarist but a trombonist as well.In a brief interview she’d given a Detroit-based music magazine, Stevie said that she’d been sent to the jazz club by a friend of hers in Chicago.“James said this is where I had to go if I was heading east,” Stevie explained.“So here I am.And he’s right.It’s rocking!I can’t believe the wealth of incredible musicians we have in this country.Genuinely, I’m so grateful to get to play with them.”
“Isn’t she supposed to be here on the island?”Will asked, his eyes alight.
“Looks like she’s taking the scenic route,” Ella joked.
“I don’t know if she’ll make it before she gets too famous to hang with us,” Will said.“You remember how this used to happen to us?We’d plan to meet up with some random indie band, only to have them explode on the radio a few nights before we saw them.The next time we ran into them, they usually pretended not to know us.”
Ella grimaced.“Music people can be so cruel.”
“Do you think we were ever cruel?”Will asked.
Ella pondered this, tracing her memories back through the decades.She prayed they hadn’t been.But before she could answer him, she heard Will’s soft breathing, proof that he was fast asleep.The past didn’t matter so much, she knew.Not when they were forty-five years old.
Ella hurried to find her phone to write Stevie about what she’d seen on Will’s social media.
ELLA: Are you on tour?
Stevie wrote back in just a few minutes.
STEVIE: That’s what everyone’s been asking me!Haha.Oh, Ella, it’s been a dream to be on the road again.I hadn’t performed in years, and now, I’ve performed three times in less than a week!I’m taking tonight off to rest, thank goodness.I’m ragged.
Ella was mystified.She demanded information.Where was Stevie now, and how much longer would it be till she got to Nantucket?She felt she needed to see her immediately.
Stevie reported that she was currently staying in Pennsylvania at “some scary motel,” which meant she’d be in Nantucket as early as tomorrow afternoon if everything went according to plan.
STEVIE: I should warn you.Something about driving across the country has activated some part of my long-dead creativity.I’ve been writing songs in my head like crazy.I hope you’re finally ready to play a bit of music with me?We’ve only been planning it for twenty-five years.
Ella cackled, shaking the bed.Will shifted, giving a bemused look despite his sleep.
“Sorry,” Ella whispered.
ELLA: It would be my pleasure to perform with you.We’ll grab a slot at my mother’s Christmas party.They won’t know what hit them.
ChapterNine
After Grayson’s private flight landed in Paris, it took no longer than forty-eight hours for his face to be plastered all over the news.It felt record-breaking, although Grayson knew the news could be much worse.“Forty-eight hours?”He imagined Camille scoffing at him.“That’s a lifetime on the internet.”
Just as he’d discussed with his colleague Alex, Grayson had left New York City very late at night on Saturday and slept nearly the entire flight, grateful for the extensive legroom and the bar, both of which had helped him conk out.(These, he knew, were not necessarily options for you if you flew economy, not that he’d flown much economy in his very privileged life.)
Landing in Paris and walking from the private plane to the waiting car, he couldn’t have known that a team of paparazzi awaited, ready to destroy his reputation as a “green activist.”He was too tired from the flight to see them.He’d let his guard down.He’d trusted that he was doing the right thing.
Because Genevieve had been the one to reach out to him to tell him about Camille and Camille’s apparent troubles, he’d gone immediately to Genevieve’s apartment—the apartment they’d selected and bought together nearly a decade ago—to find that Genevieve was not in the city at the moment.She’d neglected to tell him that she was at their country home, riding horses, hiking, and “resting” after a difficult year.The year, she said, “that had wrung her out.You know.We’re getting divorced, after all, darling.”When he’d called her again to ask where Camille might be, she said, “I really didn’t think you’d actually come to Paris.”She’d made him feel foolish for making the trip.And then she said, “Well, you’ll have to deal with Camille yourself, I suppose.You’ll have to find her.You know, I never know where the girl is.”
Frustration brimmed in his chest and threatened to stop his breathing.But he couldn’t fight with Genevieve about this.Their fighting days were supposed to be over.
But much like his soon-to-be ex-wife, Grayson wasn’t sure it would be easy to find Camille.When he’d left Paris nearly a year ago (taking a train to England and a boat to New York City, where he’d ultimately founded Water Works), Camille had been largely unreachable.She’d told all of her social media followers that she wanted to “live off the grid,” which had meant that she’d only posted photos weekly, mostly of herself on Greek islands, Thai islands, or Canary Islands.Grayson and his colleagues had even had a few meetings about Camille and how her actions might affect what people said about Water Works, as she didn’t seem to care about the environment or anyone else on the planet.
Now, it was Wednesday morning in Paris, and Grayson was no closer to finding his daughter and that much closer to losing his company—or at least people’s respect for his company.That was as good as killing it.There were countless “think pieces” online, citing him as yet another example of a mega-wealthy man who did whatever he wanted and made money by saying he wanted to build a better future.He felt like a hypocrite.He should have known that he couldn’t count on Genevieve and Camille.The fact that Camille was his only family, his only daughter, overwhelmed him.
What if she were sick somewhere?What if she was partying herself into confusion?What if she were wasting her beautiful, singular life?
There was so much you couldn’t help your children with, he knew.He wasn’t always sure if humans were responsible enough to raise their own young.“Yet we do it over and over again,” he muttered to himself, hanging his head.
We do it because of a love we can’t understand, he thought.
That morning, unable to stay another moment in his Parisian apartment, Grayson stepped out on the streets to walk along the Seine.The city was truly beautiful this time of year, gray and foggy and frigid in a way that reminded him of a somber painting he’d seen once at the Musée d’Orsay.He’d spent more than half of his life in Paris, and it would forever be etched onto his soul: the smells and the divine foods and the well-dressed people.
