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“It’s not a big room,” Ella said as she placed Aurora’s suitcase on the ground, “but it does have a pretty good view.”
Aurora nodded, her eyes widening. “It’s perfect.”
“I hope so.” Ella slid her palms over her thighs, feeling jittery. Before she could stop herself, she added, “You know, the songs you sent in your application blew me away.”
Aurora gave her a confused look. “Really?” A little bashful, she added, “I mean, you’re Ella Copperfield. You’re somebody in the music world.”
Ella waved her hand. “Being somebody on a few music blogs doesn’t mean that I’m somebody everywhere. My kids certainly don’t think of me as anybody famous.”
“But your band— the one with your husband. I listened to you guys obsessively when I was younger,” Aurora said, her cheeks reddening again.
“That’s very nice,” Ella said, still not totally sure how to take compliments about her music, despite having been a professional musician for more than twenty years. “Will isn’t my husband yet, though. We’re getting married on July 1st.”
“This July 1st?”
“Yep. For some reason, we decided to reopen the artist residency, get married, and host a Nantucket Music Festival, all within the span of four weeks,” Ella explained. “I don’t know if we’re insane or optimistic or just a little bit of both.”
“I’d say it’s both,” Aurora said.
Ella was silent for a moment, looking at this beautiful woman with her big, lost eyes. In nearly every way, she reminded Ella of so many musicians she’d met during her and Will’s time on the road— musicians with drug problems or alcohol problems, who’d sang from their souls but hadn’t managed to clean up their personal lives enough to really make it in the real world. So many of them had faded into nothingness over the years, never to be heard from again. Ella had loved so many of them, yet even now, when she tried to find them on social media, it was like they’d never existed in the first place. Like she’d imagined them.
“Anyway,” Ella said hurriedly, snapping back into action, “there’s a kitchen downstairs for the artists, one with a fridge where you can keep your stuff. There’s a grocery store about ten minutes away on foot. It’s not a big chain grocery store, but it should have everything you need. Plus, there’s a farmer’s market every Saturday, which is a dream. We normally have a few dinners all together throughout the week— ones that my mother cooks for everyone. She’s a fantastic cook and always has been, so be prepared to gain a pound or two. I know I did when I moved back in.”
Aurora laughed appreciatively.
“The other artists are wonderful,” Ella went on, describing Andy, Barbie, Felicity, and Tom as best as she could, despite having known them only a few hours. “Your painting studio is downstairs, as is your music studio. Let me know if you want to make any recordings. Will and I can help you with anything you need.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” Aurora said.
“And we can’t thank you enough for applying! My mother gushes about your paintings, you know.” Ella took several steps back toward the door, sensing that Aurora needed time alone. “And she’s very picky.”
“I hope I can live up to her expectations,” Aurora offered, dropping onto the edge of the bed as though her legs had given out.
“It will be a fantastic time.” Ella swallowed. “Anyway. Goodnight.”
Back in the family half of the house, Ella said goodnight to her sisters and her mother, adding that Aurora seemed “really sweet and really tired,” then hurried upstairs to the room she’d shared with Will since last year. Already, Will had snuck away from the party on the back porch, and he was shirtless in bed with a guitar on his lap, strumming it gently. A notebook on the bed beside him was filled with scribbles, proof he was writing a song.
“Hey, baby.” Will smiled as she kissed him. “I thought I heard a knock at the door?”
“It was Aurora,” Ella said, removing her dress and dropping onto the bed beside him, exhausted. “She wasn’t up for talking much. Apparently, she hitched a ride here on a fishing boat.”
Will chuckled and strummed a chord on the guitar as Ella picked up the notebook and read his new lyrics. In her mind, she could feel the song flow together and could sense their harmonies joining. For the past several months, she and Will had been in a sort of competition, both writing song after song, helping one another with melodies, and strengthening their catalog. After their breakup last year, Ella hadn’t thought she would ever write a song again. Yet, here they were— stronger than ever.
“I thought we could play a few new songs at the festival,” Will explained.
“I’d love that,” Ella said.
“I forgot to tell you.” Will’s strumming stopped abruptly. “I got a call from Mikey from Seattle.” Mikey was their old agent and manager. “He says he could put together a tour for us this upcoming autumn if we were interested.”
Ella dropped the notepad filled with lyrics and threw her arms around him, overcome with excitement. It was as though they were in their twenties again, working out the logistics of their very first tour— the one they’d had to drive themselves, trapped in a van too small for them, their instruments, and their bandmates. Despite the pain of it all, those were gorgeous memories.
But now, they were in their forties, with a serious following across the country— which meant they could stay in hotels, play in big concert halls, and eat more than French fries (which had been their meal of choice during tours in their early twenties).
“Danny will be in college,” Will reminded Ella, “which makes everything easier.”
“I’d rather keep Laura and Danny home forever than go on tour again,” Ella said, laughing at herself. “Isn’t that cheesy?”
“You’re their mother,” Will said. “I think being cheesy is a part of the equation.”
