Julien thought it was better at this point to have HR send an email. HR, in this case, was just Sylvia, their single employee in the office, who dealt with everything on the computer.
Sylvia probably needed a raise.
Julien knew they weren’t exactly running the most professional of enterprises. Still, in a field as old and as necessary as his, he had to know what could slip through the cracks and what couldn’t.
“Julien, man. How is it?” A thick Boston accent greeted Julien, drawing him around to find a thick-shouldered man who’d worked in harbor construction for a few years. Julien was pretty sure his name was Ralph. Julien reached out to shake the man’s hand.
“Hey, man. It’s going. How’s it for you?”
“Gearing up for this big meeting,” Ralph said, wagging his eyebrows. “The guys and I have a whole bag of complaints. We’re arguing about who’s going to be the spokesman.”
It took Julien a second to remember what Ralph was referring to. But of course, there was a city council meeting tonight, where the stiff suits in charge of Nantucket’s rules and regulations met to discuss the upcoming summer season and take any questions or comments from locals. Julien usually worked through the entire meeting, knowing that whatever was decided would come to him in an email or a printout from Sylvia.
“Listen, Julien,” Ralph asked, “would you want to come along with us? The thing is, having the harbor master there would really unify our mission, you know? You’re a born-and-raised Nantucketer. Your mom is beloved around here. You know, a word from you goes a long way.”
Julien was taken aback. It had been a very long time since anyone in his orbit had shown him such respect or referredto him as anything but the stoic and tight-lipped forever harbormaster, more like a statue than anything else. He could see the men Ralph represented now, twisting around to look at Julien and gauge his reaction to what Ralph was asking.
“Let me look at the schedule,” Julien said. “Maybe I can swing by and say a few words.”
The city councilmeeting was set for eight that evening. By then, what had felt like a harsh rain had kicked into a full-on storm. Julien drove his pickup from the harbor master's office to city hall, where he parked on a street that was more or less empty when compared to high tourist season. He pulled his hood over his ears and raced through the rain to the entrance, where other Nantucketers were removing their coats and saying hello.
“Spring is always harsh,” Councilman Thomas Bard said to another councilwoman. Thomas Bard was in his seventies, with a flip of glowing white hair and a thin face. His family had been on Nantucket forever; the name of Bard was integral to the place. He and the councilwoman walked straight past Julien without saying hello, each with an air of importance that Julien couldn’t fathom.
Julien spotted Ralph and the other harbor construction workers and went over to sit beside them. Ralph gave Julien a thumbs-up and smiled, saying, “Thanks again, man.” He looked cleaner than Julien had ever seen him, as though he’d scrubbed his face before coming in.
Julien glanced around the rest of the long, vacuous hall to see that more than a hundred Nantucketers were here. In the second row, off to the left, were Eleanor Pike, Rosamund Werther, and Clarice Charmont, formidable and stoic women intheir seventies or early eighties. Like always, they wore stern expressions. They seemed watchful, purposeful.
Just as he had when he’d seen them as a little boy, Julien shivered. But he knew better than to ever show them how afraid of them he was.
Back in the old days, Julien’s mother, Nora, had always told him to respect his elders. “Especially Eleanor Pike,” she’d said.
But in Julien’s mind, as a kid, he’d always thought Eleanor Pike was akin to a wicked witch.
Now, one of the council members called order to the hall, whacking a long hammer. Julien straightened his spine and told himself to pay attention. When it came time to demand what Ralph and the other construction workers wanted, he needed to seem alert and sophisticated. He wanted to do right by his guys.
Not long after the meeting began, Thomas Bard stood at the podium. His glittering green eyes reminded Julien of snakes, hiding in the brush.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Thomas Bard greeted, sounding more like a professor of literature than what he was—a businessman and councilman of a tiny island town. “On this gloomy day in April, I’ve decided it’s high time to address the elephant in the room. I, for one, am tired of the way things have gone on around here. I’m tired of the twisted way that things on this island are run. They’re unconstitutional, for goodness’ sake. And for any of us who care not only about the constitution but about this country, about our neighbors, and about good and evil, it’s time to stand up and say so.”
Julien raised his eyebrows. There was a hush across the hall, one that both chilled him and made him want to laugh. It was all so dramatic and charged with emotion.
But Thomas wasn’t done.
“It’s been an open secret on our island that those of us elected into office don’t hold the real power here,” Thomas said sternly.“There is a long-standing system in place that we, as an island, must dismantle. We must reclaim who we are as Nantucketers! And the people who have claimed power illegally must reckon with the horror they’ve brought to this island. Maybe some of them should be taken to trial for what they’ve done.”
A few people in the hall had begun to whisper among themselves. Julien’s palms were sweaty. He glanced over at Ralph to see that Ralph was terribly pale, almost ghostlike.
It was not common for someone like Thomas Bard to talk like this. It was not common for anyone to address the so-called “illegality” at the heart of Nantucket politics and law.
Not that Julien knew anything about that. He’d heard his share of whispers, of course. But he’d washed his hands of modern Nantucket living long ago. He was a harbor master, so he dealt in matters of boats, water, and schedules. Whatever this was, it wasn’t his concern.
Eventually, after Thomas urged the people of Nantucket to do something, Thomas stepped down, and it was another councilwoman’s turn to talk about permits and tourism and so on. Everyone in the hall breathed a sigh of relief. When it came time for Julien to stand up and speak about Ralph’s worries, the council members listened, took notes, and asked a series of questions that Julien dutifully answered. When he finished, his pulse was fast, like a rabbit’s. But it was over.
After the meeting, Ralph thanked him, shook his hand, and urged him to come out with the guys for beers. But Julien was starving, and he wanted to grab something to eat and head home. He put on his raincoat and stepped outside to find that the clouds had cleared. He decided to make a beeline for the Sutton Book Club, where a sort of friend of his, a veteran named Ben, often worked or dined at the restaurant upstairs. His wife, Rebecca Sutton, was the chef.
When Julien entered, he found that many of the people at the meeting shared his idea. Most of the tables were full, including one in the corner, where Eleanor Pike, Rosamund, and Clarice drank white wine and spoke to the owner, Esme Sutton. Before he could look away, Eleanor raised her hand, beckoning for him to come over. Julien knew better than to ignore her.
“Good evening, Julien,” Eleanor said, her voice grand. “That was a lovely thing you did at the meeting. Speaking up for your workers like that.”
