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“Where did you run off to?” Victor sounded groggy.
“We went to the Book Club,” Rebecca explained. “The veterans in Nantucket really look forward to their dinners. I’ve decided to hold one tomorrow night.”
Victor’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “That’s quite an idea.” After a long pause, he palmed the back of his neck and added, “How can I help?”
Bethany and Rebecca eyed one another. This was the strangest trio the world had ever seen.
“I have the menu planned,” Rebecca began.
“I have no doubt about that.” He again eyed Bethany to say, “She really is a stunning cook.”
Rebecca nodded toward Bethany. “I could never do what she does, though. Surgery? Dad, can you even imagine? She must be the bravest of us all.”
“My brainiac,” Victor affirmed sadly.
Bethany looked nervous. She filled a glass with water and looked out the window, unaccustomed to their father’s compliments. Rebecca understood the weight of them. After so many years without his feedback, it felt like too much.
“I’ll practice tonight,” Rebecca suggested. “It’s been weeks since I cooked anything and many months since I’ve cooked anything without freaking out.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Bethany tried.
But Rebecca was resolute. “Just let me cook for you, Bethany. You said yourself you’ve finally been able to relax here on Nantucket. I’m sure you have to cook and clean for your husband and kids all the time.”
Bethany grimaced. “Cooking a full dinner isn’t my favorite thing to do after surgery.”
“Not surprised about that.” She gave Bethany a firm smile, an attempt to let Bethany know she had everything under control. She was the big sister, after all. After that, Rebecca rushed around, writing a list of groceries for the night. Victor and Bethany watched her, bemused. Rebecca again had the sensation that if she moved quickly, her sorrows couldn’t catch up with her. If she cared for everyone else, the world would spin, just as it always had.
The evening sky was lavender, speckled with birds and beach kites. On the back porch, Bethany and Victor sat with optimistic eyes, watching as Rebecca heaved a large platter of an Indian fish curry to the table. Curry spices simmered in the air.
“My goodness!” Bethany cried.
Rebecca’s heart was full. She gripped her wineglass tentatively and watched as her father and sister took their first bites. With their eyes closed, they gave themselves over to the buttery sauce and the decadent texture. Rebecca knew their expressions. She’d seen the same ones across the dining room at Bar Harbor Brasserie.
“Rebecca,” Bethany whispered. “I remember when we were teenagers, and you cooked little things for us. You were good! Especially for a sixteen-year-old. But I never could have imagined you’d become this extraordinary chef.”
“I was fascinated with the cooking process back then,” Rebecca admitted. “But I had absolutely no technique.”
“You loved to eat, though,” Bethany said with a laugh. “We all did.”
“Three teenage girls with crazy appetites,” Rebecca affirmed.
Across from her, Victor twitched nervously. Rebecca and Bethany had entered stories from an era he hadn’t been involved in. By the time Rebecca had begun to cook for the family, he’d already begun his new life with Bree. A part of Rebecca ached to ask him about Bree, about the life he’d built with her, but another part felt the questions were like daggers.
Instead, it was better to exist in this strange and liminal space. According to gossip, Esme would return home soon. Rebecca prayed the upcoming Veterans’ Dinner would call her back sooner. She prayed that soon, as a family, they could go over the events of their lives and finally make sense of them. It didn’t mean they would ever have the kind of love other families took for granted. But maybe they would find a way to move forward… without hate.
Nantucket’s fish market had a similar flair to Bar Harbor’s. The next morning around six, Rebecca and Bethany wandered the fish stalls, greeted the fishermen, assessed the lobsters, and sipped piping-hot coffees as they watched the sunrise filter across the water. As they loaded fish in ice-filled coolers, Bethany handled the slimy bodies with ease.
“I was going to comment on how good you are with the fish,” Rebecca began, “but then I remembered you’re a surgeon. Nothing probably freaks you out.”
“I’ve seen a lot in my line of work,” Bethany agreed as she closed the cooler. “A bunch of big, goopy fish eyes don’t scare me.”
“What does scare you?” Rebecca asked. She slipped into the driver’s seat of the SUV and eyed Bethany curiously.
Bethany sighed. “As a mother, the answer is easy.”
Rebecca’s stomach twisted into knots. She knew Bethany’s answer; perhaps she’d already known it when she’d asked the question. “Yeah. I worry about mine constantly.”
“How are they handling Fred’s death?” Bethany asked.
