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Ruby smiles at her early morning chat with her daughters. It seems like five minutes ago they were little girls running around and shouting for her to please braid their hair! Find their sandals! Help them make cookies! And then suddenly they were teenagers in the White House, trying to date and fight acne and learn how to be young women in front of the entire world. There’d been a few mean-spirited internet posts (about Athena, in particular, and her awkwardness), and this had angered Ruby beyond words. After all, which of us would ever fare well if we were forced to grow up on a public stage? To display our changing bodies and gawkiness in front of the world? But Athena had bowed her head and pushed through it, maintaining all along the calm sense of self that Ruby has always loved about her.
And Harlow…her wild child. She smiles now remembering the way the press—in particular the outlets who loved to highlight fashion hits and misses—would follow her around, cataloguing the way her sartorial choices matched her incandescent personality. Harlow wore her clothes the way she wore her skin: with ease. She never hit a rocky patch as a teenager, instead preferring to look directly into any camera and show the world that she wouldn’t be tripped up by its steady gaze. As much as Ruby has always loved Athena’s steady, wise sense of self, she’s also always admired Harlow’s “no one owns me, and I don’t owe the world a dime” insouciance. Her girls are like night and day. Ocean and desert. Sun and moon. Winter and summer. And Ruby is endlessly fascinated by them. She desperately wants them both to regain their footing and to feel like their old selves again.
Instead of jumping right out of bed, Ruby scrolls back through their text messages and clicks on the video that Harlow sent. Her screen fills with an image of herself from just over a decade ago. Her hair is blonder and blown out into soft waves; her forehead and eyes lack some of the lightly etched lines she now wears on her face permanently. She can look at this image of herself and remember everything that was going on: her girls were eleven and twelve, and she was thirty-eight. Jack was still a senator and incredibly dashing at forty-nine…coincidentally, the same age that Ruby is now.
The studio audience quiets down as their applause tapers off, and the camera pans out to show Ruby sitting across from Oprah Winfrey.
“Thank you for joining me, Ruby Hudson,” Oprah says, reaching over and putting a hand on Ruby’s knee as she gives her a warm smile. “I don’t do a lot of sit-down interviews anymore, but there was no way I was going to miss the chance to talk with the wife of the future president.”
The audience goes wild, their cheers and clapping drowning out any words that Ruby might say.
When they finally calm down again, Ruby turns to the crowd, smiling and laughing. Oprah lobs her a few softballs:Tell us about your role as a senator’s wife.(Lots of travel, making sure Jack knows who he’s meeting and anything important about the city they’re in, and being available for any events that Jack wants her to attend.)If you could choose the perfect platform for yourself as a First Lady, what would it be?(Children’s literacy, hands-down. Getting books into every elementary school, and making sure that reading materials are accessible to everyone.)What are you most proud of?(Her girls. Her beautiful, smart, funny, precocious, wonderful little girls.)
And then finally, as if Oprah has a crystal ball and knows that some future version of Ruby will be watching this video almost exactly ten years later, she centers her gaze on Ruby’s face, waits for a moment of complete silence from the audience, and asks the million dollar question: “Where do you see yourself in ten years?”
Present Day Ruby watches her little phone screen intently, her eyes wide as she remembers her own words on that day that now feels like a lifetime ago. “In ten years?” The Ruby on the screen turns and glances out at the cameras. “We’ll be serving a second term in the White House, and Jack will have solidified some of the most successful and strong political ties this country has ever seen. We’ll be economically prosperous, and the American people will feel the kind of pride in their government that they haven’t felt in years.” Again, the audience breaks into a loud round of applause, and Ruby grins at them, crossing her nylon-clad legs. “Oh, and my amazing daughters will both be happy and successful at whatever they decide to do with their lives.” She puts both hands to her cheeks. “I can’t believe that in ten years my girls will be in their twenties!”
Oprah laughs along with her, clapping and nodding.
Ruby’s eyes tear up now as she sits in her bed, watching it all on the screen. She’d been right about one thing: her girlsaresuccessful, and theywillbe happy again. As for the rest of it…well, much of that was out of her control. She wishes that her beloved country was in a better place economically, and that things weren’t so divided. A lot has happened in ten years for everyone in America, but for her personally, this chunk of time has changed everything. She’s experienced life as a First Lady, and she’s fully raised her children. She got to travel the world and support the man she loved, and then she lost him—completely and totally, and in so many ways.
America’s favorite First Lady?she thinks, shaking her head.There’s no way.
Ruby clicks off her phone and sets it on her nightstand along with her reading glasses. She climbs out of bed and stretches her arms high overhead, looking out at the beach from her second-story bedroom window. It’s going to be a beautiful day, and she has a lot going on.
But it’s jarring to look back at a less jaded, more hopeful version of herself. A former Ruby who had no idea what was coming her way, and a younger, more trusting woman who believed that only good things would happen to her and her little family.
She lets her arms fall to her sides as she watches a boat moving across the water in the distance. As it speeds on and gets smaller, Ruby realizes that the version of herself who sat on stage with Oprah ten years ago is just like that boat: going, going, gone.
* * *
“Good morning, boss!” Vanessa walks into the bookstore with an oversized purse, a cup of coffee from The Scuttlebutt, and her cell phone in hand. She’s in her early twenties, and in the short time Ruby has known her, she’s discovered that Vanessa is like a much older woman stuck in a younger woman’s body. She has already told Ruby that she’d love nothing more than to marry, settle down, and have kids, but there’s no one on Shipwreck Key who she sees as a potential prospect.
“Hi, Ness,” Ruby says, feeling mildly distracted. She’s got a pile of books next to the register that she’s entering into the system, and the first book club meeting is on her mind. “I’m glad you’re here today. I’ll be running in and out, so if you don’t mind holding down the fort—“
“I never do!” Vanessa says cheerfully, bending at the waist and sliding her purse and cell phone into the drawer behind the counter. She’s wearing a long, stretchy dress that hugs an ample, curvaceous figure, and her lovely, dimpled smile is highlighted by perfectly applied red lipstick. Vanessa has dark, groomed eyebrows, and the kind of thick hair that spills in waves down her back.
With a smile, Ruby takes a stack of books from the counter and walks toward the center of the store. “I’m just going to do a little inventory,” she says, sliding the new Stephen King novel onto a display rack that’s facing out. Behind it, she puts several copies of the book.
In the next room, Ruby seeks out the biographies and memoirs. Sure enough, she has two copies on hand of Dexter North’s Monica Lewinsky book, and she glances over her shoulder to make sure that Vanessa is otherwise occupied before pulling the hardcover book off the shelf and flipping to the back jacket.
Dexter North is a best-selling biographer. His works have been published in The Atlantic, The New Yorker, and the Harvard Review. This biography of Monica Lewinsky is his first full-length title. Dexter splits his time between New York City and Christmas Key, Florida.
“Christmas Key,” Ruby says under her breath, closing the book. Of course Dexter North spends part of his time in Florida. She’s never been to Christmas Key, but she knows it’s a cute, rustic island located out in the Gulf of Mexico on the way to the Dry Tortugas, and apparently it’s decorated for Christmas all year long. Oddly, she wouldn’t picture a serious, hard-hitting journalist like Dexter North spending time there, but what does she know? Maybe he’s less of a hard-hitting journalist and more of a beach bum with a laptop?
“Hey, boss?” Vanessa calls out, her hips swaying as she walks through the store holding a piece of paper. “Is this a list of things you need for tonight?”
Ruby slides the book back onto the shelf and reaches for the paper, glancing at it. “Yes. I have most of it, but I was going to run out and grab a few things.”
“I can do this on my lunch, if you want.”
“No, no. I’ve got it. Thank you though.” Ruby folds the paper in half and hands Vanessa the last few books she was going to put on shelves. “But if you wouldn’t mind finding homes for these, I think I’ll step out now.”
“Sure. No problem.”
The rest of the day passes in a blur as Ruby walks up and down Seadog Lane with Banks at a slight distance. Truth be told, when she’s preoccupied and thinking of other things, Ruby hardly even notices he’s around. Which, she supposes, is the sign of a good Secret Service agent, but it’s still mildly unnerving when she realizes once again that she’s the only woman on the island with her own personal security guard.
For instance, when she stops in at The Scuttlebutt two doors down from Marooned With a Book, Molly, the owner of the shop, rings up the boxes of pastry for Ruby with an eye on the door. When Ruby glances in that direction, she sees Banks standing there, his wide, muscular back nearly touching the window of the coffee shop as he looks out at the street, standing sentry.
