"Most do leave deposits," Ellen clarified. "Though not all can afford to. I make judgment calls."
"Based on what criteria?" Caroline couldn't help asking.
Ellen's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Based on whether the dress has chosen them as clearly as they've chosen it." She must have sensed Caroline's skepticism, because she added, "It sounds fanciful, I know. But after forty years, I've learned to recognize when a connection is real. When timing matters more than practicality."
Caroline set down her cup with a soft clink against the saucer. "Look, I understand this business means a great deal to you, and these relationships with your brides clearly run deep. But looking at the numbers - "
"Numbers tell one kind of truth," Ellen interrupted gently. "But not the only kind. Not even always the most important kind."
The fundamental divide between them stretched wide in that moment - Caroline with her belief in measurable outcomes and clear exit strategies, Ellen with her patience and faith inintangible connections. They sipped tea in silence for a moment, the only sound the ticking of a ship's clock on the wall and the distant call of gulls through the open window.
"I know you're looking at Sea Glass with restructuring eyes, trying to find the cleanest way to wind things down." She held up a hand when Caroline started to protest. “That's alright. It's what I asked you to do, after all. But I need to be part of any decisions going forward." She leaned forward, her gaze suddenly intense despite her physical frailty. "Promise me you won't do anything while I’m at the hospital? Not without consulting me first. No calls to realtors, no inventory liquidators, no decisions about the building or the dresses. Not until we've had time to discuss all options thoroughly."
The request wasn't unreasonable, yet Caroline felt a flicker of resistance. In her experience, clean exits required swift, decisive action once the assessment phase was complete. Emotional attachments only complicated necessary outcomes.
"Of course," she said finally. "I wouldn't make any moves without your input."
Ellen studied her for a moment longer, as if weighing the sincerity of this promise. Whatever she saw in Caroline's face seemed to satisfy her, because she nodded and slowly rose to her feet.
"Would you mind watching the shop this afternoon? I don’t have any other appointments, and we rarely get much traffic on Mondays at this time of year.”
"I can manage," Caroline assured her, rising to assist her aunt if needed.
Ellen waved away the offered help. "I'm not completely helpless yet," she said with a hint of her earlier humor. "The stairs are still within my capabilities, though I've learned to take them slowly." She moved toward the narrow staircase at the back of the shop that led to her small apartment above. At thebottom step, she paused and turned back. "Caroline, thank you for coming. Whatever happens, it means a great deal to me that you're here."
The simple gratitude caught Caroline off-guard, creating an uncomfortable tightness in her chest. "It's no problem," she replied automatically. “Now get some rest."
11
As Jessand Nadine headed toward the ferry terminal, the full glory of a Nantucket spring day enveloped them.
The cobblestone street gleamed in midday sunlight, the stones worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. Cherry blossom petals drifted across their path, carried on a breeze that smelled of salt water and new growth.
Across the harbor, Brant Point Lighthouse stood sentinel, its weathered red door bright against the whitewashed walls, watching over departing and arriving vessels as it had for generations. In window boxes along the street, early daffodils nodded their golden heads while tulips prepared to open, their tight buds promising a riot of color in the days to come.
“I love the island in spring," Nadine said, her voice softening as she looked out across the harbor. "Before the summer crowds, when everything feels like it's waking up and stretching toward the sun."
They walked side by side down Federal Street, their footsteps naturally falling into sync. A pair of cyclists passed, their wicker baskets filled with fresh produce from the farmers' market. Outside The Candle Shop, an elderly man carefully arranged adisplay of hand-dipped tapers, the colors mirroring the spring flowers blooming in the window box above.
"So," Nadine said as they turned toward the harbor. "Tell me more about Megan. All I know is that she's a psychologist and your voice of reason in the city."
"She's..." Jess searched for the right description. "Steady. The kind of friend who shows up with soup when you're sick without you having to ask. Who remembers not just your birthday but the anniversary of your grandmother's death and texts to check on you. Who talks you down when you're about to send an ill-advised email to your boss at 2 AM."
"Sounds like someone I need in my life," Nadine laughed.
"You'll love her," Jess assured her. “She introduced Julian and I as you know, and while we don’t see each other enough these days, kinda like you and me - she was always going to be one of my bridesmaids.”
“She and the jaded journalist?” Nadine commented, referring to the final member of Jess’s bridal party, who was flying in tomorrow from San Diego.
Jess laughed. “Sloane’s not jaded as such, she just … tells it like it is.” But for some reason, her old college roommate had never really connected with Megan, though in truth they’d only met a couple of times in New York in Jess and Megan’s singleton days.
Sloane had never even met Julian or indeed Nadine, so Jess was slightly tense about whether the bridal party would successfully gel in the run up to the wedding.
Though with her maid of honor competently leading the charge, all was surely under control.
The walk to the Steamship Authority dock took them down streets they’d both traversed together thousands of times.
Each corner held a memory, each weathered building a story. The spring sunshine warmed the cobblestones beneath theirfeet, releasing the earthy scent that always followed morning dew or light rain - a smell Jess had never encountered in Manhattan, where concrete and asphalt trapped different odors entirely. She breathed deeply, letting Nantucket fill her lungs as they made their way toward the harbor, ready to welcome Megan for the first time to the island that had shaped her.
