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Together, the three Sutton sisters walked the boardwalk, each stewing in their own thoughts. Around noon, Esme wrote that the reading group had disbanded and that she planned to head back home for a nap before she had to be back at the Sutton Book Club for another meeting. Apparently, a group of teenagers met at the Sutton Book Club once per week to read Shakespeare to one another.
Eventually, Valerie demanded that they sit somewhere. Her feet ached. She pointed out a little wine bar along the water, and the three of them nabbed a table along the sands. A server came to take their order, and they asked for a bottle of sparkling rosé and three glasses. In the distance, a boat cut along the horizon line, whizzing beneath a blue sky.
For a little while, the sisters were quiet. Rebecca made a grocery list for the Veterans’ Dinner, which they’d planned for two days from now, as Bethany texted her husband and Valerie answered emails. Rebecca, too, texted with her children, who all reported they were having great summers but that they missed her. She was no longer necessary. She was no longer there to bug them about remembering their IDs or sports equipment or to get a good night’s sleep.
But suddenly, Valerie hissed with surprise. Rebecca and Bethany looked at her, sensing something very wrong.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Valerie muttered.
“What?” Rebecca demanded as Valerie slid her phone onto the table with the screen up. Rebecca and Bethany leaned over to read the headline of the article.
RENOWNED FAMILY PSYCHOLOGIST NOT TO BE TRUSTED
Victor Sutton’s face peered back at them. He wore a mysterious smile and what appeared to be the same suit he’d had on at Bar Harbor Brasserie.
In the article, the journalist discussed Victor Sutton’s illustrious career, his rise to fame, his work with presidents and actors and talk show hosts. He spoke about Victor’s incredible book sales and the world’s constant belief in his message. “Victor Sutton was synonymous with truth, with wholesome family values, and with bettering ourselves. But now, Sutton’s newly revealed dark past begs the question—should any of us have taken advice from him in the first place? How much damage has Victor Sutton done?”
“Oh no,” Bethany breathed.
The journalist knew everything. He spoke of Victor’s early days on Nantucket, of his first wife, Esme, and of his four children, Rebecca, Bethany, Valerie, and Joel. He wrote of Joel’s death and of Victor’s subsequent affair with Bree, with whom he ran away. “None of Victor Sutton’s children have anything to do with him. As he’s the number-one trusted family psychologist, shouldn’t Sutton have found a way to patch up these wounds long ago?” The journalist even spoke of Valerie’s failings in her industry as a way to “pin the blame” on Victor, which was enough to make Valerie’s head explode. Bar Harbor Brasserie was mentioned as a “failed restaurant,” as Bethany’s story spoke only of her husband’s very minor legal problems.
“What does my husband have to do with this?” Bethany hissed.
In every respect, the article dragged Victor and his family through the mud. It boggled Rebecca’s mind.
“He must have known the article was coming out,” Rebecca said suddenly. “He knew his reputation was about to be smeared, so he took refuge where he could. With me. With us.”
Bethany and Valerie set their jaws. Nobody knew quite what to feel. Their anger toward their father and what he’d done was not a public thing. They felt exposed.
Rebecca scrambled away from the table and called Victor. Had he seen the article yet? She paced the fence around the wine bar and listened as the call rang out across the island. Unfortunately, he didn’t answer, not the first, second, or third time she called. Remembering he’d promised to help Ben and Doug, she dialed Ben’s number. Ben picked up on the second ring.
“Hi there!” He sounded jovial. “How are you doing?”
Rebecca’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh. Fine, Ben. Fine. I was curious if you’d seen my father today?”
“He just left a little while ago,” Ben reported. “The work he did on the house today was exquisite. He showed me a few techniques that should make things easier on me in the future. You wouldn’t think that a psychologist like him would have such skills. I guess it’s best never to judge someone at face value.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened. Had Ben seen the article?
“He didn’t say where he was headed, did he?” Rebecca asked.
“He didn’t. He did say he couldn’t come by tomorrow. Something to do with his divorce?”
“Oh.” Rebecca’s head swam with curiosity. “Okay.”
“But he did say he’d be back in two days,” Ben continued. “Is he not answering his phone?”
“He’s not,” Rebecca said. “I hate to admit that I’m kind of worried about him.”
“I saw him just about two hours ago,” Ben assured her. “He seemed right as rain.”
Rebecca thanked Ben and got off the phone. But when she returned to the table, she noted the article had been posted an hour ago. There was no telling how Victor was handling it. Where had he run off to? Ben had said, “Something about his divorce.” But what could that mean?
When she asked her sisters, they shook their heads, at a loss. Valerie reported that already, Twitter was aflame with questions about Victor’s capabilities as a psychologist. The hashtag was #ShouldWeTrustVic.
“People are tweeting stories about themselves,” Valerie explained as Rebecca sipped her wine, exasperated. “They’re talking about times they tried to follow Dad’s principles, but they failed them. They still got divorced or lost custody of their kids or…”
“Gosh. That seems petty to me,” Bethany breathed. “You could follow Dad’s principles to a T and get different results every time.”
