Page 5 of Lost Dreams

“We’ve seen some of them,” Oren said, still speaking for them both. “She’s good.”

Kenny crossed his arms. Aurora didn’t know what to make of him. Did he hate Charlotte’s films? Or did he hate Aurora for bothering them during work?

Just then, her cousin Gwen, who was sixteen or so, appeared in the doorway, flipping her hair behind her shoulders. Ever since Aurora’s arrival last week, Gwen had acted sort of as Aurora’s shadow, following her around to see what kind of mischief she got up to while causing as much mischief of her own as she dared. “What a beautiful horse,” Gwen said, pressing both hands against her chest and eyeing the black beauty beside Aurora. “I’ve been dying to go riding all spring long.”

“Do you want to go now?” Aurora asked Gwen. She wanted to seem spontaneous and good-willed, especially in front of these guys. She didn’t know why.

Kenny made a terrible sound in his throat, as though he wanted to block this outrageous idea but didn’t know how.

“I’d like that very much!” Gwen said.

Aurora turned to smile at Oren. “Just a short one? For cousin Gwen?”

Oren’s forehead was slick with sweat. He raised his shoulders. “You can ride him outside the stables for a little bit if you want to,” he said. “But we’re done with work in about an hour. We need to make sure everything’s put away and cleaned up.”

“I only want to ride for a few minutes,” Gwen promised.

“Just a few minutes,” Aurora said sweetly. “We promise we’ll get out of your hair pronto.” She’d learned this English expression to “get out of one’s hair” a few days ago from her cousin Xander, and she’d found herself using it endlessly. She rather liked the poetry of it.

When she returned to Rome—in some amorphous future—she imagined that she’d show off this American dialect and impress her friends.

But the thought of returning to Rome just now turned her stomach.

Having ridden horses back in Italy at her grandmother’s estate, Aurora was able to ready the horse for Gwen’s ride, so that Oren and Kenny could keep working. She helped Gwen select a helmet that fit her head perfectly, then put her hands down in a kind of scoop so that Gwen could first step on Aurora’s hands before throwing her leg over the horse’s back. It was clear that Gwen didn’t know what she was doing, not really. The horse let out an awful grunt, then threw his head back, ruffling his hair. A shiver of fear went down Aurora’s back. Gwen, too, looked frightened.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you? Like back in California?” Aurora asked Gwen. There was a terrible fear in her voice, which she knew wouldn’t help Gwen get her head around what she was doing.

“Maybe she should get down,” Kenny said darkly. “We have things to do. We have to clean up.”

“I’m fine,” Gwen said in a meek voice.

“She’s fine!” Aurora parroted, although her fear felt thick around her, like a cloud.

All at once, everything changed. The horse, overwhelmed and overworked and maybe too hot for whatever this was, threw his front hooves into the air and tossed Gwen from his back. Gwen fell like a bag of potatoes. Aurora heard a terrible and sharp crunch. Kenny threw himself at the horse, taking his reins and guiding him out of the barn and into the fresh air to calm down. Aurora and Oren fell to their knees beside Gwen, who was holding her wrist and crying quietly. Her eyes were rimmed with red.

From the looks of her arm, which hung limply, she’d broken a bone.

“Oh, Gwen,” Aurora breathed, hating herself, hating how frantic and outrageous she could sometimes be. “Oh, Gwen. I’m so sorry.”

3

The opening of the White Oak Lodge was three days later. Dressed in a lilac gown, Lorelei moved through the vibrant crowd, her heart in her throat. The hotel had returned to its former glory. All the paint had dried, and every suite was perfectly decorated, and all the staff were in place, wearing their sophisticated uniforms. It was hard not to think about nearly thirty years ago, when the White Oak Lodge had burned to the ground.

Everything was virtually the same as it had been in the nineties. Some of the island’s most prestigious artists and writers and filmmakers were dressed to the nines, lounging across the grounds and the various verandas, drinking expensive cocktails and talking languidly. Because it was already a beautiful day in the low eighties, which was warm for May, gorgeous, suntanned individuals were either in the pool or sunning around it, and caterers walked around carrying appetizers, most of which had been invented by Roberto.

Lorelei paused on the veranda and peered out, searching for more of her family members. Her mother and father, Francesca and Benjamin Whitmore, were playing happy hosts, greeting old friends with cheek kisses and gesturing for them to take free glasses of champagne and celebrate. Not far from where Lorelei stood was Alexander, her older brother, who’d worked as a pilot until recent events had brought him to Nantucket.

Lorelei went over to Alexander and bumped him with the tip of her elbow. “Hey, Big Brother,” she said, offering a smile. “Happy grand opening party.” She knew he wasn’t happy about Gwen’s broken arm, but she knew Gwen hadn’t thrown Aurora under the bus for the incident. Gwen had owned up to it, telling her father that it had been her idea and hers alone. Lorelei would not be the one to tell Alexander that accidents seemed to follow Aurora around. She wouldn’t tell him that their own mother suggested that the White Oak Lodge was cursed.

“Can’t believe it,” Alexander said after a pause. “It’s like it’s 1998 all over again.”

“I keep feeling that way, too.” Lorelei traced a line from Alexander over to her sister Allegra, who was chatting with her daughter Tatiana. Allegra and Tatiana both lived in Rome and had been active members of Lorelei’s life for many, many years. By comparison, Alexander was a stranger. She didn’t like to think that way, but it was true.

“Mama and Dad are in their element,” Alexander offered.

“I know, right? It’s hard to believe. Do you think they’re really…?” Lorelei trailed off.

“Back together? I don’t know. I’m too afraid to guess.”