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“You feel it, don’t you?” Jeff asked under his breath. “There’s still this current between us.”

Willow longed to roll her eyes. She yearned desperately to tell Jeff that he wasn’t half as hot as he thought he was.

“I don’t think so, Jeff,” she mumbled, turning her head away.

“Tell me you don’t think about me,” Jeff urged. “You were the one who invited me out tonight.”

Willow understood, now, with the curdle in her gut and the skip of her heart, that she shouldn’t have done that. She shouldn’t have given him the wrong idea. Then again, she hadn’t thought someone like Jeff would like her, not now that he was a success story and she spent most nights at her mother’s, and most days doing music therapy. Her life wasn’t an adventure. Her music career was a kind of pivot.

“Let me take you out properly,” Jeff offered.

Maybe he was the sort of man who wanted to save me, Willow thought.

She kept her eyes on his hand over hers, willing him to move it. Finally, when the bartender leaned over the counter and asked if they wanted anything else, Willow found her voice. “No,” she said. “I’d like to close my tab, please.”

Fifteen minutes later, Willow was on the bus, heading for her mother’s place in Lexington. It wasn’t eight yet, which meant she’d probably be able to spend a little time with Donna before she needed to go to bed. Maybe they could work on that new Schubert Willow had picked out for her mother; maybe they could rehearse one of the Gershwins, which always made her mother laugh, her hands springing back and forth across the keys.

Of course, as she got closer to her mother’s place, she remembered that her mother hadn’t wanted to play the piano at all over the previous few days. As though Donna knew that Willow had discovered the truth of her parentage, Donna was irritable and often picked fights with Willow. Willow had had to call the nurse for help twice in the past week alone. And the doctor kept saying what she and Ralph knew to be true. Donna didn’t have long.

When Willow got off the bus and walked up the front porch, the nurse met her at the door. The nurse’s big, empty eyes told Willow everything she needed to know.

Suddenly exhausted, Willow pressed her forehead against the nurse’s shoulder and forced herself to breathe.

“She died in her sleep,” the nurse explained. “She’s not in pain anymore.”

6

June 2000: Nantucket Island

Seventeen-year-old Rose Calder was on the road to better things. Last summer and into fall and winter, she’d worked tirelessly at a grimy downtown restaurant, doing everything from scrubbing dishes to scrubbing floors to scrubbing grease from beneath her fingernails. But now, now that she’d been hired as a server at the iconic Nantucket Seaside Resort, Rose would finally be around the kinds of people who could advance her career. She was finally going to be seen. Maybe, she thought late at night, her heart fluttering like a butterfly, she’d be discovered by someone, a director or a model scout or something like that.

Rose was careful not to talk about her aspirations with her boyfriend, Rhett. The night before she began her job at the resort, she met Rhett outside his dockside job. There was a sourness in how he said hello, proof that the argument they’d had a week ago was not far from his mind. They hugged, then held hands as they walked quietly along the boardwalk, people-watching. Eventually, they’d do what they always did: grab food, maybe drink a beer, and watch the sunset.

Was their relationship getting too boring for either of them? Was it stale?

Of course, Rose was still mostly head over heels for Rhett. Last summer, they’d had the kind of romance that launched marriages and babies. All year at Nantucket High, when Rose was a junior and Rhett was a senior, people labeled them everything from homecoming king and queen to best couple to prom king and queen. Everyone was sure they were a long-term couple and would leave together and start a new life.

Not long before sunset, Rose and Rhett sat on the sand and sipped their beers. Rose watched him drink, wondering what was on his mind.

The argument from last week had been pretty standard, Rose supposed, although she was embarrassed by it. Rose was achingly jealous that Rhett was going to art school without her. She had to stay in Nantucket for another year before she could join him in the city. In a fit of passion and anger, she’d asked him to stay on Nantucket and wait for her. Of course, Rhett had no interest in doing that. Rose had said numerous things she didn’t mean like accusing him of not loving her. Now, it was as though they were walking a tightrope in their relationship, apt to fall at any moment.

“Are you excited about your new job?” Rhett asked.

“I guess,” Rose lied.

“You’re going to be great,” Rhett said. “But be careful around Steve. People say things about him.”

Rose snorted. “What do they say?”

Rhett shrugged and sipped his beer. But of course, Rose already knew what people said about Steve. Mostly, they said he was a flirt, especially with the girls he hired. They also said that he always hired the prettiest girls on Nantucket. More than that, they said his employees, his “girls,” made more in tips than anyone on the island because they waitressed at parties for high rollers, directors, movie stars, record producers, and so on. Rose was certainly excited about that. She needed to save money so she could visit Rhett. Or she needed to save money so she could go out to LA and audition for whatever director discovered her.

The point was that money was essential in life, and she needed to make as much of it as she could this summer.

That night, Rhett walked Rose home, kissed her, and turned back toward his place. Rose watched him walk away, wondering if there would be a day when he wouldn’t walk her home, and they’d be strangers. Tears filled her eyes.

But the following day, nobody at the resort could tell that she was in the midst of a tumultuous relationship. She walked through the resort with a big smile, tending to whatever the guests asked of her. She caught on quickly, pouring drinks (despite being underage, which nobody seemed to care about), fetching towels for the pool, giving advice for Nantucket activities, and generally laughing at everyone’s jokes.

By the end of her first week, the owner Steve had taken a liking to her. “I want you to work one of my parties this weekend,” he said. “You’ll need to wear something a bit fancier. Janice behind the bar has a selection of dresses. Go talk to her.” He winked.