Julien sipped his beer and told himself to remain focused, his eyes on the horizon. “That kind of thing doesn’t sound like the Nantucket way of life.”
“It doesn’t. I mean, it certainly doesn’t sound ‘correct’ or ‘legal’ or ‘nice,’” Hannah said. “But you said it yourself that the night before Thomas Bard was found dead, he gave a speech at city hall. I wonder if he ruffled some feathers?”
Julien shifted in his rocking chair and thought about the roof leak being fixed. But now all he wanted was to abandon this talk and return to the rotted floorboards on the staircase. He didn’t want to face the dark world beneath the one he normally lived in—the Nantucket world that seemed to exist in order to maintain this one.
“It’s driving me crazy,” Hannah said with a wry laugh. “There seem to be countless disappearances and mysterious deaths here in Nantucket over the years. None of the cases were brought to trial. Not one! It speaks to corruption at a pretty high level. Even the case down in Miami, the one I just blew open, didn’t have as many deaths involved. Sure, there were a few. You can’t really escape that when there’s corruption and so much money. But here on Nantucket, this is something else entirely.”
“Is it possible they were accidents?” Julien asked. “We’re surrounded by water. Not everyone is safe out there in boats, swimming around, and so on.”
Hannah gave him a look that meantcome on.
“You have to admit,” Hannah said after a moment of silence. “If there’s a club, or whatever, deciding everything about Nantucket, including who lives and who dies, that’s incredibly scary. I mean, what if one of them points the finger at one of us?”
Julien couldn’t speak.
“Your mother still lives on the island, right?” Hannah said. “You said she’s in a retirement home? Do you think she knew Georgia? Maybe she could shed some light on this.”
“She’s pretty sick,” Julien said, which wasn’t fully a lie. “She doesn’t always know what she’s talking about. I try not to irritate her. I try never to ask the questions that make her realize…”
“That she’s forgetting,” Hannah finished.
“Exactly.” He closed his eyes and willed the conversation to finish. But how could he transition away from this? Hannah had a brilliant and curious mind. “Sometimes she forgets about my wife. I mean, she forgets that my wife is gone.”
Hannah was quiet after that. Julien’s stomach pulsed with anger toward himself. Was he really going to use Nina as a shield against Hannah? Or did he actually want to share this element of his past with Hannah? He didn’t know.
“She passed away,” Julien added. “It was a car accident out of state. She was there for work. It was sudden, and awful, and I guess I haven’t fully gotten over it. But it’s bizarre that my mother, the only person I see on an almost daily basis, minus the guys on the dock, forgets about her. Nina was supposed to be in my life till I died, you know? And now, sometimes it’s like she never existed.”
Hannah’s face echoed surprise and empathy. She reached over and touched Julien’s hand, which felt almost too tender, too sweet. Julien told himself not to pull his hand away. He told himself to maintain eye contact, if only to see what it did to his heart. It thumped and thumped.
And as they gazed at one another, both in shock at the horrors that life had given them and the mysteries they couldn’t solve, Julien began to wonder if Hannah was really so wrong to question the ethics of the Legacy Club? If she brought the Legacy Club to its knees, would that really be so bad?
Wasn’t it finally time for that secret society of power to reach an end?
Julien splayed his hand over Hannah’s cheek. He hadn’t kissed anyone since Nina died, but there was panic in his heartthat told him that if he kissed Hannah so soon after stealing those letters, he wouldn’t be starting a relationship on even ground. More than that, Eleanor thought he was spying on Hannah for her. It was gross, unbalanced.
Before he could make up his mind, the screen door blasted open to reveal Minnie, sweaty and frantic. She looked surprised to see Julien. Julien let his hand drop, embarrassed.
“Honey, are you okay?” Hannah asked, standing up, her eyes big.
“I’m fine,” Minnie said, although she did not sound fine, not even to Julien, who had very little experience with teenage girls. “Are you fine?”
Hannah turned to look at Julien, alarmed. “We’re okay. Honey…”
But Minnie had already turned back, as though Julien had frightened her off.
“Be careful on the stairs!” Hannah called. But Minnie had already bypassed the holes they’d made in the steps and gone all the way to her room. When she slammed the door behind her, the entire house quaked. Hannah slumped back into her rocking chair and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I don’t know,” she warbled. “Sometimes she likes me. Sometimes she doesn’t.”
Julien couldn’t help but laugh at that. He touched her knee long enough to draw her eyes back to his. “I can’t imagine ever not liking you,” he said gently. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
19
All night and into the morning, Minnie stayed awake, manic and stressed, sitting on the edge of her bed, thinking about her father’s note. Although she’d wadded it up and thrown it away, she could still see his handwriting, as though it had been burned into her mind. She was supposed to go to the Waterstone Hotel at eight o’clock tonight. It felt as though Kendall and Minnie were characters in a spy novel, operating with a set of codes.
At eight thirty that morning, Minnie’s mother knocked on the door. “You awake, honey?”
Minnie groaned, and Hannah took that as a cue to open the door and peer in. “How are you feeling?”
“Um. Fine?”
