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“You tellmeeverything,” Hollis says. “What happened to Mindy?”
“We had a good run,” Jack says. “Seven and a half years. She was a cool chick; she gave me space. She worked for a drug company selling Botox and whatnot. It was a little disturbing, all those women wanting to freeze their faces, but she enjoyed it. She was good at darts and made a mean chicken cacciatore.”
“But?”
“She wanted to get married. I threw her a surprise fortieth birthday party at my bar and after everyone left, she sat me down and told me I needed to put a ring on it or she was leaving.”
“Ultimatum 101,” Hollis says.
“She married someone else; she’s happier now. It all worked out.”
“Except you’re alone,” Hollis says.
“You can be in a relationship and alone,” Jack says. He clears his throat. “How are you doing, Holly? I imagine it’s been rough.”
Hollis exhales. “I’m not sure I have the words to describe what it’s been like,” she says. “Everything changed in an instant. My whole lifebecamethat car wreck. But I had to be strong—for Caroline, obviously, but also because I thought that’s what people expected.”
“Which people?”
“My friends, my community, my blog’s subscribers. Everyone sees me as, I don’t know, some kind of—”
“Domestic goddess?” Jack says. “Earth mother?”
He’s probably not far off. “They see me as in control—steady, well adjusted. I’m the one who provides comfort. I didn’t feel like I was allowed to fall apart.” Tears drip down her face. It feels so good to cry that she just lets the sobs come. Jack reaches out and pulls her into his arms. He murmurs into her hair, “I’m here, Holly berry.”
Hollis sits up and gropes at her feet for her bag, where she keeps a pack of lavender-scented tissues; she’s on brand even when she’s having a breakdown. “There’s guilt too,” she says, then blows her nose. “Matthew and I were having problems. It was a low-grade fever, nothing splashy or dramatic; we just drifted apart. He was always working, then my website took off and I put my energy there. Caroline was away at college. Both of us talked to the dog more than to each other.” Hollis wipes under her eyes. “We had a conversation the morning he died… we were both trying to express how unhappy we were. He told me that I’d changed, that we’d changed, and he was right.”
“Oh, Holly.”
“When things were bad with Matthew, I would check up on you. I’d stalk your Facebook page. I did it when I was feeling low and I wanted to remember what it felt like to be really loved.” The tears start up again. Whatever she thought might happen this weekend, it wasn’t ending up in the Round Room confessing all her secrets to Jack Finigan. “I saw the picture of you and Mindy—”
“Three years ago?” Jack says. He’s laughing and she can’t blame him; it sounds so silly.
“I wanted to know if you were still with her,” Hollis says. “I guess what I really wanted to know was if you ever thought about me.”
“Of course I thought about you, Holly. You’re a part of who I am.”
“But you never come back here.”
“I come back now and again,” he says.
Without thinking, Hollis says, “I saw you once.”
“That one Thanksgiving,” he says.
Yes,she thinks. What year would it have been? Caroline was in middle school, so maybe almost ten years ago. It was the Friday after Thanksgiving, and Hollis, Matthew, and Caroline were downtown for the tree-lighting ceremony. It was a favorite evening of Hollis’s—all of Nantucket coming together on Main Street, the ceremonial lighting of the Christmas trees in town. Hollis was wearing a chunky knit sweater and a down vest; she and Matthew and Caroline usually walked to Languedoc for lobster bisque and steak frites after the lighting. Hollis had been swaddled in a bubble of contentment.
But when the switch was flipped and Main Street came aglow, Hollis was arrested by the sight of one face through the crowd. She squinted. Was it him? Was it Jack? Yes—and he was looking at her. He smiled, flashing his dimples, and lifted a hand to wave.
Hollis felt a rush she hadn’t at all expected. Jack! She was suddenly self-conscious. She looked around for Matthew, but he and Caroline were over on the sidewalk with their phones out, snapping pictures of the trees. Hollis knew she appeared to be alone, and she was glad. She locked eyes with Jack, thinking,What do I do?A normal response would have been to lead Matthew and Caroline over and introduce them.This is Jack Finigan, a friend of mine from high school.Matthew would have known that it was Jack, her old boyfriend, though he wouldn’t have cared one bit; Matthew was the least jealous person Hollis had ever known. Why didn’t she do that? The answer: She didn’t want to introduce Jack to her family; she didn’t want Jack to know shehada family. In that instant, she’d wanted to go over and hug Jack, kiss him, even. She’d had the urge to pull him down Quince Street, hide between two of the summer homes, and make out.
Instead, she lamely waved back, then looked away, and when she rejoined Matthew and Caroline, she claimed she had a headache and should probably go home. “I’ll take a cab,” she said. “You two go to dinner.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Matthew said. “We’ll all go home. There are a ton of leftovers.”
This was true; Hollis cooked Thanksgiving for ten people, even though there were only three of them. “We had leftovers for lunch,” she said. “You two go, keep our reservation, it would be rude not to. I’ll get a cab and see you back at the house, love you, bye.” Hollis then weaved her way through the crowd to where she’d seen Jack standing, but he was gone. She had wandered around searching for him, fully aware that she was acting like a crazy person—she was a happily married woman, a mother—though at the time she hadn’t cared. She’d just wanted to see him. Had he been with someone? She knew this was possible, but if he was alone, they could have a moment. That was all she’d wanted: a moment with Jack, alone.
“I came looking for you,” Hollis says now. “I ditched Matthew and Caroline and tried to find you.”
