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“No,” Graydon said firmly as he reluctantly took his eyes off Toby. “Anyone hungry? And how about we all go sightseeing later?”
Toby knew what he was saying, that they needed to keep busy and stay with other people. To be alone would cause too many … complications. “Yes, we’ll be tourists for today, and tomorrow we’ll go see Dr. Huntley.”
“We won’t take the picture of …?” Graydon trailed off, not saying “me” out loud. A two-hundred-year-old picture of him might cause too many questions.
“I don’t think we should,” Toby said, and Graydon smiled, glad they were in agreement.
The NHS headquarters was in a beautiful old house on Fair Street and Toby asked the woman at the desk if they could see Dr. Huntley. They hadn’t brought the papers from Alisa Kendricks Kingsley, as they didn’t want Dr. Huntley’s attention to be diverted to them. Besides, answering “How did you find them?” might be a bit awkward.
Dr. Caleb Huntley came out to meet them almost immediately. “Toby! Graydon!” he said as he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “How good to see both of you again. Come with me to my office.”
A young woman holding a stack of photos of old paintings was waiting inside Dr. Huntley’s beautiful office. There were shelves filled with books and interesting artifacts. “Excuse me,” he said as he motioned for them to sit down, then took the pictures from the young woman. “Phineas Coffin,” he said. “Died about 1842. Was married to one of the Starbucks. Eliza, I think. Six unruly brats.” He switched photos. “Efrem Pollster. Worst captain who ever lived on this island. Let his crew rule him.” He changed pictures. “The Elizabeth Mary. A very good ship. Went down off the coast of Spain in a storm. 1851. No. 1852.” He looked at the young woman. “Did you get all that?”
“I think so,” she said. “I have four articles for the journal that you need to read, and three donors called this morning. They want to speak directly to you.”
Caleb waved his hand. “I’ll get to them later.” His tone was that of dismissal, and as the woman left the office, he sat down behind his big desk.
“You do seem to know an extraordinary lot about Nantucket,” Toby said.
Caleb shrugged in dismissal. “They have stacks of unidentified pictures, so I’ve been putting names to faces.” He looked from one to the other.
Graydon nodded at Toby for her to begin. “Remember the dinner party?” Toby asked.
“And your glorious food?” Caleb said. “That was a truly magnificent evening. You, young man, should get a job as a cook.”
Graydon smiled. “I take that as a great compliment, but I do have other employment.”
“We could call it The Prince’s Wharf,” Toby said, her eyes encouraging.
Both Caleb and Graydon laughed, then the older man looked at Toby. “So what can I help you with?”
“You told a story about Tabitha Weber,” Toby said, “and we were wondering about that. Did she marry Silas Osborne?”
“No,” Caleb said with a bit of a smile. “It’s interesting that you know of the connection between those two. Tabby’s mother, Lavinia, wanted her to marry him. But Garrett talked the woman out of it, made some promises, that sort of thing. Osborne wasn’t happy about it and for a while he talked about suing, but …” Caleb shrugged. “He sold his store to Obed Kingsley and left the island. No one ever heard of him again.”
Toby didn’t look at Graydon but she saw that he was beginning to smile. It looked like they had changed history.
“So Tabby did marry Garrett Kingsley?” Graydon asked.
“Yes,” Caleb said, but then the smile faded from his handsome face. “Garrett …” He almost didn’t seem able to go on. He took a breath. “They married, but nine months later Tabby died in childbirth. Not long afterward, Garrett shipped out with his brother Caleb. The ship went down and took everyone on board with it.” His face suddenly looked older. It was almost as though he’d lived through the tragedy himself.
“No!” Toby said. “That’s not right. Tabby and Garrett got married and lived happily ever after.” Her voice was rising. “Nobody died! Everyone was happy!”
Graydon reached out to take her hand in his. The strength of his grip was the only sign of what he was feeling. “What happened to Lavinia and the widows?”
“Tabby’s death tore the family apart,” Caleb said, his voice heavy. “Lavinia sold the house, but it was in such bad shape that she didn’t get much for it. She tried to keep the family together, but she couldn’t. All the widows took the grandchildren and left the island.” Caleb sighed. “I don’t think Lavinia was invited to go with them. She ended up alone in ’Sconset, a victim of the drink. Poor woman. She’d lost her husband and three sons, all her grandchildren, and her daughter. She didn’t hold on to her sanity.”
Graydon squeezed Toby’s hand. He could feel her beginning to slump. “You’re sure Tabby died in childbirth?”
“Oh, yes. Both Valentina and Parthenia were there with her.” Caleb looked at Toby. “It was a miserable time then. Tabby was a well-loved young woman.”
“She died in that house,” Toby whispered. “In the birthing room.”
“Yes,” Caleb said. “Garrett was planning to build them a house on the North Shore but he didn’t have time before Tabby …” He paused, his eyes full of sadness.
There was a quick knock at the door and the young woman opened it. “Dr. Huntley, sorry to bother you, but people are waiting.”
He waved his hand and she left, but he didn’t move. He sat behind his desk and looked at Graydon and Toby, seeming to have all the time in the world. But then, he was a man who knew what was important in life.
