Ada laughed openly, warmth spreading from her chest to her arms. It was wonderful to have her old best friend and her forever love by her side. She felt both young and old at once.
“You know, we have three kids?” Ada said, remembering Hannah, Kade, and Olivia with a sharp sense of fear. She hated to be far away from them.
“That’s right,” Quinn said, although she didn’t seem interested. “Are any of them singers?”
Ada blushed. Peter had always been more keen on putting the kids in sports than the arts, saying that it built inner grit. More than that, Ada hadn’t wanted to put her children through the tremendous pain she’d gone through in the opera world. She’d wanted to hide them from breaking their own hearts.
But before Ada could figure out how to respond, Jacques was standing on a chair, making a toast to Quinn and the rest of the opera members. Ada and Peter raised their glasses, smiling sloppily, grateful to be back in the glitz and glam of their previous lives.
It was a gorgeous night, but one that demanded a lot from Ada, emotionally. She knew she needed her own therapist; it was customary for all therapists to have one. If she’d had one, she might have called them up after the party and said, “I wanted that life to be mine. It was supposed to be mine.” Perhaps she would have worked through her emotions and sorrows and been able to fully remind herself of how grateful she was for her own life on Nantucket.
At the restaurant later that night, she went to the bathroom and looked at photographs of her family and thought,My purpose is in Nantucket. Opera is my past.
It was Sunday morning when Peter and Ada left Manhattan, armed with bagels they hoped would keep enough to serve to their children for breakfast. There was nothing like a New York City bagel, although plenty of places did their best. In the car, they discussed Quinn, the others in the opera community, and the changes in the city.
“I’m glad we got out of there when we did,” Peter said. “I mean, I was pretty broke when I was living there, and I made it work. I don’t think people can do that anymore.”
“It’s sad, isn’t it?” Ada said. “You can’t be romantic and broke in the big city anymore.”
Peter laughed and adjusted his hands on the steering wheel. “Quinn seems strange, doesn’t she?”
“Hmm?”
“I mean, sort of desperate, right?” Peter went on. “She’s in her forties and isn’t married and doesn’t have kids. I mean, she probably wants all that, right?”
Ada looked down, unsure of how to respond. “I think she seems really happy.”
“You think?” Peter sounded in disbelief. “I think it’s all an act.”
“She’s one of the most lauded opera singers of her time,” Ada said stiffly. “It’s what she’s been working for. I think she’s over the moon.”
Her heart was bruised. Did Peter not sense how difficult this all was for her? Didn’t he remember who Ada had been?
They planned to stop at Ada’s mother’s house for lunch. As soon as they pulled into the little town and saw the soft blue water tower and the ice cream place that sold the best banana splits in the world, Ada regretted it. All she wanted was to get back to Nantucket, to put a movie on, and enjoy her children’s company. But they’d made a promise.
Ada’s mother, Kathy, was in her seventies and lived alone in a little white house that Ada and Peter had helped her paint a couple of summers before. When they pulled into the cracked driveway, Peter muttered, “We should get that redone soon. ” Ada agreed, knowing her mother's condition would only worsen, making it increasingly difficult for her to walk on the uneven ground.
Kathy stepped out on the front porch wearing a shade of soft pink lipstick and a pretty dress. She looked a little older than she had a few months ago, the last time Ada had seen her. Ada hurried up the steps and wrapped her mother in a hug, cursing herself for not wanting to come in the first place. Her mother had lived alone since Ada had left home at eighteen. She was probably lonely. That, or she’d forgotten what it was like to have other people around.
“So?” Kathy guided Peter and Ada into the living room. “How was the big city?”
Peter answered with his booming voice. “I’m glad we’re out of there.”
Kathy laughed. “It’s too much. I never understood how Ada managed it.”
“It was a wonderful time in my life,” Ada said, her voice a string. She didn’t add,You would know that if you came to visit more often, Mom.But her mother hadn’t been very invested in Ada’s opera career. Ada’s interest in opera had come out of nowhere, according to Kathy. When she was around twelve, Ada had heard an opera by chance on the radio and became fascinated. The following day, she’d asked her school’s music teacher about it. The music teacher just happened to be best friends with a former opera star, who’d invited Ada for a round of lessons. When Ada asked her parents for money to pay for the lessons, her father agreed, while her mother simply said, “Fine.” The former opera star had been thrilled at Ada’s range and musical ability, and her “career” had launched from there.
When Ada’s father had left them for a younger woman, Kathy had almost insisted that Ada quit opera. But Ada’s music teacher had stepped in yet again and reminded her mother that children needed something to live for. Ada was still grateful for that, even though it hadn’t worked out in the long run.
Kathy had made chicken potpie. Together they sat at the dining room table, eating and talking about Ada’s hometown, Kathy’s charity work, and the grandkids back in Nantucket.
“Hannah’s off to college soon,” Kathy said, scraping the top of her fork over the potpie. “Is she nervous?”
“Not as nervous as we are,” Peter joked, glancing at Ada.
“She’s a brilliant girl,” Ada said. “She got into Vassar, for goodness’ sake.”
“She’s talking about being an orthodontist,” Peter added.
