But midway through chopping an onion for the omelet, Minnie appeared in the kitchen, bug-eyed and nervous. She wore a dress, and her hair was brushed and styled. Hannah was confused. “Sit down and have some breakfast?” she suggested.
“I have to go,” Minnie said. She seemed to be breathing just as desperately as she had been last night.
“You don’t have to go that fast,” Hannah said. “Tell me about last night, at least. And where are you going?”
“It’s Viggo,” Minnie said. “We, um. We have to talk. And then, we’re going to a party? At a beach.” She stuttered slightly, then added, “I really do feel good about living here, Mom. I’m happy. I was just a little upset last night. We got into a small fight, and yeah. But I’m clear about everything now.”
Hannah still had her knife poised over the onion. Something about Minnie’s expression didn’t sit right with her. But she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“You know, you can talk to me?” Hannah finally offered.
“I know.” Minnie seemed rushed. Quickly, she came up, hugged Hannah tightly, then fled the kitchen, ducking through the foyer and onto the porch.
Hannah set down her knife and followed her daughter outside. But already, Minnie was gone, lost to a Nantucket teenage society Hannah couldn’t understand.
Right before Hannah turned to go back inside, she saw something sticking out of the old-fashioned mailbox, which was nailed to the wall outside the front door. Usually, they got mail in the bigger mailbox down by the road. Curious, she opened it to find an envelope addressed to her. Something about the handwriting triggered a memory, although Hannah couldn’t place it at first. She opened it to find an invitation.
It’s time we met. 134 Sherburne Way. 8 p.m. tonight. Bring only yourself.
Hannah’s ears rang. A mysterious letter? A mysterious invitation? She knew it couldn’t be Julien’s handwriting, and she guessed it didn’t belong to his mother, either, as she was living in a retirement facility and losing her memory. Hannah returned to the kitchen, where she still kept many of the letters Georgia Kaiser had received in a pile off to the side. She’d been sofocused on falling for Julien and building up the house that she’d nearly forgotten about them.
Suddenly frantic, Hannah began going through the letters, trying to find a match. It took her a little more than five minutes, but eventually, she found a letter addressed to Georgia, written in the mid-eighties.
I really think it’s time to do something about Larry Mansfield. We’ve waited too long. Yours, Eleanor Pike.
Hannah could hardly breathe. Mansfield was Julien’s last name.
Was Larry Mansfield Julien’s father? He’d mentioned that the wake was held at Eleanor Pike’s place. He’d mentioned her pointedly, as though he’d wanted Hannah to know her name.
And now, the very next morning, here was Eleanor Pike, reaching out to Hannah. Hannah knew in her heart of hearts that Eleanor Pike was connected to the Legacy Club. Maybe she was the center of it and their leader for the past few decades.
Hannah knew it was dangerous to enter Eleanor’s house without any protection. But she couldn’t bring herself not to go.
21
On the long walk back to town, Minnie told herself not to panic. She inhaled, exhaled, and counted her steps, focusing on the beautiful, fluffy clouds above and the breeze fluttering through the leaves overhead. She reminded herself that she hadn’t lied to her mother, not fully. She really was going to find Viggo just now. She wanted to talk to him before she saw her father again.
Of course, she had no idea what she was going to say.
If Minnie told Viggo the truth—that her father had come out from hiding to take Minnie away to some other life, where she had to go by another name and pretend she’d never been Minnie Moore in the first place—she imagined that Viggo would not accept it. He would ask her to listen to reason. He would point out things that her over-anxious, Hannah-adjacent mind was already pointing out that this was strange. But that feeling fought continually against her love for her father, and her belief that her father’s love was always better than other kinds of love, if only because it was harder to get.
Initially, Viggo had told her that he would pick her up from home later this morning, that he wanted to clean up the boat fora sailing expedition. But Minnie hadn’t been able to stay at home in her room, listening to her mother sing as she made an omelet. She hadn’t been able to sit, thinking about what she was about to do. So, here she was, walking the forty-plus minutes to the harbor, feeling cursed. There was no older woman to hitchhike with this time.
When she reached Viggo on his sailboat, she found him shirtless, his long hair pulled back so that he could focus on sanding a piece of wood. He looked so rugged, so grown-up, that Minnie nearly broke into tears. This person had decided to fall in love with her. And now, she’d decided to reject that love. Was she insane? She began to shake.
It was then that Viggo spotted her. Hopping off the boat, he wrapped her in a hug, then burst with excitement, telling her about everything he’d gotten done that morning. “What are you doing here, by the way?” he asked when he remembered. “I was going to come pick you up! I thought we could go get bagels.”
“My mom dropped me off,” Minnie lied. She reached around to pull his hair from its ponytail, then watched as it spilled over his neck. She swallowed at her feeling of love for him, and then she kissed him with her eyes closed. She knew she needed to tell him that she was leaving, that they’d probably never see one another again. She wished she could at least tell him about her new identity. Maybe he could find her one day. Maybe he’d never forget her.
That was laughable, she knew. They were sixteen years old, with so much life ahead of them.
“Listen,” she said, her voice shaking. “I know I said I could hang out all day today, but something came up. My mom. She needs my help with something. And yeah. We’ve been fighting, as you know. So.”
Viggo looked deflated but not overwhelmed. “That sucks, but I get it.”
Minnie kissed him again, telling herself it would be the last time. At that moment, as though he sensed how desperate she felt, Viggo put his hands on her cheeks and looked her dead in the eye. “I don’t know where I would be without you, Minnie. You coming to Nantucket saved my life,” he said.
Minnie couldn’t tell how much he meant it. Maybe this was just an overdramatic, teenage sentiment. Or maybe it was the biggest emotion anyone had ever had about her.
