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The first story also housed a beautiful and well-lit all-purpose room with two long wooden tables and plenty of chairs. A café was open part-time and sold muffins, croissants, little cakes, tea, and coffee. Esme hosted reading clubs, music-listening clubs, theater-performing clubs, and the bi-monthly Veterans’ Dinner. Rebecca felt a pang of guilt in memory of Ben and Doug. They seemed to need the Veterans’ Dinner very much.
Bethany and Rebecca unlocked and entered the first story. Rebecca hunkered behind her little sister, grateful to lean on someone else’s bravery for a change.
“It feels like she hasn’t been gone long,” Bethany said. “It’s clean. Organized.”
Rebecca nodded. “Let’s check out the office upstairs.”
Rebecca locked the door, then followed her sister to the staircase. Together, they crept to the second story, where thick and impenetrable books lined gorgeous hand-carved bookshelves. A desk on that level featured a traditional ledger, where Esme wrote the names of rented books alongside the renters’ names. Rebecca read through the ledger, noting that Esme had just checked out a book three days before. Four weeks before, Larry had written his final check out.
The office had once belonged to Grandpa Thomas before he’d ultimately passed it on to Esme. Rebecca could remember when it had been a chaotic mess of World War II books, piles of envelopes, and Werther’s candies, all heavy with the smell of Grandpa Thomas’s cologne.
These days, Esme and Larry kept the office spick and span. They’d clearly shared it, as two cushioned chairs sat behind it—the king’s and the queen’s. A computer sat on the far right of the desk. Bethany turned it on, and Rebecca watched as it booted up, easing them into Esme and Larry’s private technological world. They hadn’t bothered with a passcode. This was Nantucket, after all.
Rebecca sat at the computer and searched through the Sutton Book Club’s email for clues. Spam took up the majority of the space—coupons for groceries and historical texts. Bethany rifled through the desk drawers, reading old bills. Both were quiet for a long time.
“Oh my gosh.”
Rebecca turned to find Bethany with a huge stack of handwritten letters. She spread them out across the desk, and her lips parted with surprise. “There are hundreds. And they’re all from Mom to Larry or from Larry to Mom.”
Rebecca stood beside her sister to inspect the letters. True to form, Esme wrote with exquisite cursive; her hand had complete control over the pen. Larry’s handwriting was tighter and trimmer without as much flourish. Still, the way he wrote to their mother revealed a depth of thought and love that surprised them both.
Rebecca gasped and dropped back onto the chair. After a very long moment of silence, she said, “They were so in love.”
Bethany’s face was stricken. “She must be in tremendous pain.”
Rebecca closed her eyes, thinking back to the first month after Fred’s death. Without her children as anchors, she very well could have floated off into the stratosphere. Where on earth was Esme?
Rebecca returned her search to the computer, where she noticed a series of emails with the subject line: Veterans’ Dinner. None of them had been addressed by anyone named Doug or Ben. Rather, it seemed a number of men and a few women in the area looked forward to the Veterans’ Dinner and wondered when Esme planned to reinstate it. Rebecca allowed herself to open three of the emails from three different veterans. All three told Esme how sorry they were for her loss. One said, “You’ve been there for us during some of the darkest hours of our lives. Let us be there for you.”
Resigned and hungry, Rebecca and Bethany locked up the Sutton Book Club and walked back to the SUV. It was nearly evening, and a chill clung to the air. Tourists skittered back to their hotel rooms to find sweaters and jackets. Bethany climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV and said, “I never thought I would come back here. I’m starting to wonder why.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing. We should have known Larry. We should have witnessed our mother happy.”
“Especially after all she went through when we were teenagers,” Bethany added.
Rebecca sighed as her phone buzzed. The area code was Nantucket’s, so it was a local number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Rebecca. It’s Franklin.” He sounded weak and jittery, which weren’t the best attributes for a cop. “I wanted to let you know we’ve been in contact with your mother.”
Rebecca’s ears rang. “Where is she?”
“She said she’s fine and not to worry.”
Rebecca stuttered. “Yes, but where is she? When will she be back?”
Franklin was quiet. Beside Rebecca, Bethany gaped at her.
“To be honest, we only know this because she called my mother,” Franklin backpedaled. “But my mother says Esme is taking care of an important matter and will be back soon.”
Rebecca’s jaw hung open. What kind of police force was this? Then again, she’d known Franklin and Conner since she was a kid. How could she have expected anything better?
“Okay. Thank you, I guess.” Rebecca was at a loss. “I suppose your mother didn’t tell my mother her daughters were here?”
“I’m sure she did,” Franklin affirmed. “The gossip is running like wildfire. But you know how Mrs. Walton is. She’s called half the island.”
After the call ended, Rebecca slowly removed her phone from her ear. Bethany gaped at her, expectant.
