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Rose was so consumed by her work that she hardly noticed the passage of time.
Early evening hit and left her ragged with hunger. She stepped out of the library to discover that the construction crew had already left for the day, leaving their tools lockedup. Although she still wasn’t supposed to, she strode out into the center of the ballroom and spread her arms on either side of her with her chin raised to the ceiling.
It was then she felt an onslaught of nearly forgotten memories.
In her mind’s eye, she was twenty-one again. It was time for the party of the season. Mrs. Walden had assured her that she wasn’t invited to the party and that it was up to her to remain upstairs with the children, keeping them occupied so they didn’t go downstairs to bother the guests. The party was held in the Walden Estate, and all the best, brightest, and most successful Nantucket holidaymakers were invited.
Because Oren was still living with the Waldens at the time, he could not escape. He’d been forced to attend, too.
The fact that Oren had asked Mrs. Walden if the babysitter might join for the ball had caused confusion among the Waldens and their elite friends.
He’s grieving,they’d decided.He doesn’t know what he wants.
But Oren was only six years older than Rose—twenty-seven to her twenty-one. The age gap wasn’t ridiculous. It was the monetary gap that made it sensational and so very, very wrong.
“There will be plenty of beautiful women at the party,”Mrs. Walden had tried to assure him.“You don’t need to worry yourself with a member of my staff.”
Now, at fifty-two, Rose shook out these memories, fixed her face, and locked up the house for the night.
She’d bought the house to feel a sense of ownership over a past that didn’t always make sense to her.
How could she have known what she would discover in that old place?
How could she have known she’d bitten off more than she could chew?
When she got home, she made a grilled cheese sandwich, poured herself a glass of wine, and tended to the messages on her cell—most of which were from the Salt Sisters. They were worried about her after last night.
HILARY: I know you’ve probably just thrown yourself into a new task to keep yourself occupied.
HILARY: I hope you remember to take care of yourself. You need rest after so much stress.
There was also a voicemail message from Officer Sean Slagle.
“Hi, Rose,” he said. “I just wanted to let you know that we’ve explained your situation to the ferry companies. They’ve promised to keep an eye out for any oversized packages that weigh as much as your sculpture does.”
From the voicemail message came the ruffling of pages and Sean clearing his throat. “I can’t imagine we’ll let something this massive get away,” he said. “Just wanted to let you know I’m in your corner. My mother was, um, an artist. And I know what it might mean to lose something so dear.”
Rose’s heart twinged with surprise. It was rare to feel such empathy from a man of the law—a man whose job description often entailed “yelling at teenagers” and “giving out tickets for bad drivers.” But Rose had long ago realized a fact about humanity, a fact that she continuedto return to again and again. People surprised you, regardless of their background, their intelligence, their job description or the way they looked. It was important to remember that you could surprise someone, too, at any time. That was the nature of being alive.
Chapter Nine
July 1993
The stomach bug that attacked Rose on the morning of her day off in week two. It kept her locked in her bedroom, heaving and rolling around on the mattress. She could barely see the children through the window. Together with Miriam, the children walloped and ran around, their arms spread, their legs kicking and dancing. Balls soared through a cerulean sky. But Rose couldn’t even join them outside.
Rose was filled with dread and sorrow. It hadn’t been the plan to spend her second full day off like this. It was a waste of time.
I’m failing myself,she thought before nearly vomiting again.
Because Rose hadn’t been able to pack more than a couple of books, she’d already run out of things to read. She knew there was a library downstairs, an adult one that had nothing to do with the children’s book selection upstairs. But she also hadn’t specificallyasked Mrs. Walden if she could dip into the library for her personal selection.
Why would it bother her?She wondered now but then remembered that for six full days a week, she was supposed to devote her entire life, mind and heart to the Walden children.
But that evening, through the window, Rose watched as Mr. and Mrs. Walden drove down the driveway and whizzed out of sight. If she wasn’t mistaken, Zachary and Oren were in the back seat. It meant they were headed somewhere, probably somewhere exquisite with divine cocktails and food with far more flavor and beauty than anything Rose would ever enjoy.
It meant Rose could tiptoe down the hallway, head downstairs, and select a few books before they returned.
Otherwise, I’ll die of boredom,she thought.
