He wondered if Camille knew that, too.
ChapterTen
It felt miraculous to see the sign for HYANNIS PORT: 10 miles.Without realizing what came over her, Stevie let out a yelp of excitement.She’d spent most of the week driving across the continent, unraveling her soul as she bolted across the highway.Now, her trip was nearly over.
At the ticket office for the ferry, the wind off the Nantucket Sound was so sharp that the ticket seller, a stern-looking woman a little older than Stevie, ushered her inside and pressed a ticket into her hand.“We don’t get a lot of traffic this time of year,” she said, her eyes to the dark cloud over the horizon.“You’re not from around here.Strange to see a tourist this late in the game.”
Stevie enjoyed how firm the woman was, how sure she was that Stevie didn’t belong.It felt as though the woman knew every person who came and went from the island, as though she kept private tabs on them.She would have made a very good FBI agent or police officer.Instead, she was here, taking money for tickets.
“I’m visiting a friend,” she said.
“Who?”The woman narrowed her eyes.It felt like an interview.
“Ella Copperfield,” Stevie said, surprised by her wave of confidence.
The woman relaxed into herself.“Ah.The Copperfields.Sure.You aren’t one of their artists, are you?They’re always getting new artists over there.We’ve had people from all over the world.”Pride edged her voice.
When the monstrous ferry pulled up to the dock and dropped its ramp, Stevie drove up and then down, following the waving arms of the sturdy-looking men who went back and forth from the island to the mainland.It was hard to fathom what this salty air would do to a person over the course of decades.Their faces were friendly but lined with scars and wrinkles.
When the ferry set off, Stevie left her car for a cup of coffee in the enclosed café upstairs.There, she listened as the two café workers gossiped about other islanders, about Christmas parties they planned to attend, about the weather they expected for the next week.“Snow, snow, snow,” one of them said, shaking her head.“I don’t know if we can take much more.”
“And you!You’re not dressed for this.”
Stevie realized that she was being addressed.Surprised, she yanked around to find that both café workers were looking at her and assessing her terribly thin California jacket.It was true that when she’d gotten into her car to drive across the continent, she hadn’t given a thought to the weather.She smiled nervously.
“You’re going to freeze,” one of them added sternly, as though Stevie’s smile annoyed her.“Do you have something better in your car?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Stevie said.She was surprised at these nosy women but also endeared by them.Maybe gossiping and nosing your way into everyone else’s business were the most honest ways to live.Perhaps that was island life to a T.
When the island neared, Stevie was surprised at how grim it looked in the wintertime.She’d only seen photographs from the summer of white beaches, trim houses, green lawns, tanned and slender people in tennis or boating outfits, and bright white smiles.The island before her seemed to cower beneath an ominous gray sky.She wasn’t in California any longer.
But when Stevie drove her car down the ramp, she spotted a woman on the boardwalk, sprinting toward the small line of vehicles.Her face gave Stevie pause.It was animated, with big, dark eyes, and a smile that seemed to brighten the dark clouds above them.Incredibly, it was Ella, and she was headed straight for Stevie, as though she’d spotted her from several football fields away and wanted to greet her properly.Snow spun around her, dotting her hat and her hair.And when she reached Stevie’s car, she tugged the door, laughing, until Stevie leaned over and unlocked it.
Ella burst into Stevie’s car with the air of a much younger woman.Stevie felt as though this had been the plan all along: as though Stevie was twenty and picking up a twenty-year-old Ella, maybe to take her to a party or drop her off somewhere.Instead, there in the parking lot next to the ferry, Ella screamed and threw her arms around Stevie.Stevie put the car in Park and hugged her back, her heart pounding.She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been greeted like this.Everything within her body felt warm and nourished.Her eyes filled with tears.
“I can’t believe you made it!”Ella said.
Stevie laughed and laughed.Behind them, the ramp crawled back onto the ferry, and the boat stirred away from the dock, leaving them.Stevie reckoned with what it meant to be on an island.You were trapped and couldn’t just get away when you wanted to.
Ella explained that she’d had her husband drop her off so that she could greet Stevie properly.“Take a right here,” she said, gesturing to guide Stevie to the Copperfield House.
“I can’t believe you’re still with Will,” Stevie said, remembering when she’d first met that gangly drummer, that handsome but young guy Ella had been in love with.
“Sometimes I can’t either,” Ella said, blushing.“But he’s been my entire life.”
Stevie sighed, trying to imagine that.In California, it was rare to meet anyone who was still in their first marriage.Stevie herself had never gotten married.Sometimes she wondered if she would regret it.
The Copperfield House appeared before them: a gorgeous and multifaceted Victorian home, perched on the edge of a sweeping and snow-covered beach.It had been beautifully decorated for Christmas, with lights and wreaths, and through the large window, passersby could see the large Christmas tree, glowing with even more decorations.Stevie parked in the driveway and felt all the anxiety leave her body.
“Welcome to the Copperfield House.”Ella smiled.“I’m so glad you’re here!Mom’s going to love you.Come on.”
Stevie unlatched the trunk to grab her only suitcase, which Ella nabbed from her, hauling it up the porch steps.She entered, stomping her boots of snow before removing them in the little enclave and hollering, “Hello!We’re here!”
Stevie had never entered a house joyfully, so entirely sure that whoever was waiting for her on the other side of the front door loved her completely.Stevie removed her shoes and her flimsy coat, then followed Ella past a roaring fire into the kitchen, which smelled of nutmeg, cinnamon, sage, and thyme.A gorgeous woman in her seventies stood at the counter, smiling at them, her hands folded over a quaint apron.
“Stevie,” she said.“Welcome to the Copperfield House.”
Stevie blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.She felt disheveled in a place like this, although it was clear that nobody wanted her to feel that way.
