“I wanted to tell you in person that I won’t be home tonight,” Hannah said, fixing her face so that he wouldn’t suspect anything.
Julien’s shoulders drooped the slightest bit. “That’s all right,” he said. “Really. I’ve been so busy at your place that I’ve neglected my own. Someone has to do laundry at some point.” He laughed in a way that demanded more dock workers look over at them, confused. Julien usually wasn’t the laughing kind, apparently. Not at work. Maybe not in normal life, either.
But things had changed since Hannah and Julien had met, Hannah knew. They’d changed for her, too.
“I want to go out to dinner tomorrow,” Hannah said, raising her chin. “I want to get dressed up and maybe get ice cream and meet more Nantucketers. I’ve been sequestered in that house by myself, listening to the broken shutters rattle against the house. I want to feel like I belong here.” She laughed, adding, “My daughter has many more friends than I do.”
“She’s a kid. She doesn’t know how hard it can be later,” Julien said.
Hannah smiled. She knew this was something that Julien didn’t believe, given his backstory. But it was something you were meant to say. “Text me, and we’ll make a plan,” she said, rising onto her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.
Before she could chicken out, Hannah returned to her car and drove the eight minutes to Eleanor Pike’s place. When her engine cut out, Hannah realized that her knees were clacking together. That was how much she’d begun to shake. For a moment, she looked at the house—a Victorian that looked entirely haunted, painted a lavender color, with shutters in light gray. It wasn’t as ritzy as many of the mansions on Nantucket, but it was foreboding.
When Hannah reached the porch steps, the front door opened to reveal that same older woman from the funeral, Eleanor Pike. She looked like her penmanship—ornate and formidable, and she still wore all black, covering her arms and legs, despite the heat. Without smiling, she gazed down at Hannah. Only darkness lurked behind her, as though all the lights were off in her house, as though she had all the curtains drawn.
Hannah wasn’t the type to let herself be looked down upon like this. She clonked up the steps and raised her chin to Eleanor. “Good evening, Ms. Pike. I believe you’re expecting me?” She wanted to point out to Eleanor that although Eleanor hadn’t written her name on the mysterious invitation, Hannah had figured her out. She’d figured out a lot more than Eleanor would have liked her to know.
Hannah guessed she was there so Eleanor could figure out how much she knew.
“Hannah Moore,” Eleanor said. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“As does yours.” Hannah kept her smile professional and alert.
“Why don’t you come in?” Eleanor stepped back to let Hannah pass her into the chilly house, which was very dark but quite cozy, with antique furnishings and thick rugs. Eleanor led her down the hall to a sitting room with a bay window thatoffered an exquisite view of the ocean. It was the only window that didn’t have its curtains drawn.
Eleanor had already made them both martinis. She handed one to Hannah, and they clinked glasses. Hannah felt as though they were playing a game of chess, as though one wrong move would give Eleanor a checkmate. The problem was that Eleanor knew everything about this island. She knew all its stories much better than Hannah. Hannah was losing the game already.
“You have a lovely home,” Hannah said finally.
Eleanor’s laughter sparkled. She sat on a leather sofa and gestured for Hannah to sit across from her, in a matching armchair. Hannah did, ensuring her back remained straight, matching Eleanor’s. “I understand that you’ve moved into the old Kaiser place.”
“You must have. That’s where you sent the letter,” Hannah said.
Eleanor smiled. “Georgia loved that old place. When she left us, I thought we’d cleared everything out. Tell me. We didn’t catch everything, did we?”
“What do you mean?” Hannah asked. She wasn’t willing to show her hand like that.
Eleanor sipped her martini. “I suppose you know that I make it my business to know just about everything there is to know about Nantucketers, regardless of how long they’ve been here. That’s how I know all about your storied career, and about your daughter, Minnie. She’s adorable. Her relationship with Viggo is the cutest, isn’t it? We’ve always liked Viggo’s family.”
Hannah didn’t like this woman speaking about Minnie. Her blood pressure skyrocketed, but she kept her breathing steady. “They’re cute, yes. Minnie has always been open to love.”
“It’s an honorable thing,” Eleanor said. “Love! Oh, if only I had the time for it.”
“But you make it your business to know everything about Nantucketers, so there’s really no time,” Hannah parroted back to her, grimacing.
Eleanor laughed her beautiful, sinister laugh. “Darling, you’re really so clever. We’ve thought it ever since we read your articles. We’ve said it over and over. ‘That Hannah Moore really has a remarkable mind.’”
“You and the rest of the Legacy Club,” Hannah said flatly, then sipped her martini.
“Yes, darling. The Legacy Club and me,” Eleanor echoed, as though daring Hannah to say everything else she knew, everything else she’d discovered.
The truth was, Hannah only had vague connections. She had newspaper articles and letters, but she didn’t have much in the way of proof.
“I didn’t come to Nantucket to find a new story,” Hannah told her. “I came here for peace.”
“You’ve never wanted peace in your life,” Eleanor said.
Hannah wanted to laugh at that, as there was an air of truth to it that she had to accept. Peace was akin to boredom, was akin to giving up. At least in her, a newspaperwoman through and through.
