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“I count my blessings for my stepmother every day,” Carmella said, drawing her hand over Nancy’s on the table.
“What is your name?” Elsa asked.
“Kostos. And yours?”
They told him their names, with Nancy going last. She hated how thunderous her heartbeat sounded, as though her heart wanted to jump out of her body. Back in the old days, Nancy had prided herself on her bravery. She’d been as spontaneous as Alyssa but hadn’t had very good instincts to go along with that, which had resulted in numerous mistakes. Falling in love with Neal had been a bit like walking into the ocean, feeling the water come up over her ankles, over her shins, until she’d been up to her shoulders in love— overwhelmed with it. She hadn’t ever wanted to get out.
“I feel like it’s up to us to show you around,” Elsa said to Kostos. “As islanders, we can’t just let you float around without rhyme or reason. What if you only see really touristy things? What if you go back to Greece without seeing what makes Martha’s Vineyard really unique?”
“Terrifying,” Carmella agreed.
Here, Kostos met Nancy’s gaze with that same intensity. It was as though, already, through the air between their tables, they spoke to one another without the necessity of syllables or sounds. It was in this profound feeling of knowing someone, of being known, that Nancy heard herself speak.
“I’d love to show you around, Kostos.”
Kostos studied her as Carmella and Elsa’s eyes bugged out slightly, perhaps sensing the flirtation, the power of which existed somewhere above their heads.
“I’d like that very much,” Kostos said, removing his phone from his pocket, trying to conceal his grin. “Now, what is it that they always say on American comedies? Can I have your digits?”
Carmella and Elsa cackled so that the table shook, the glasses of wine quivering.
“I take it nobody really says that?” Kostos’ smile was enormous, handsome, and tremendously clever.
“You just did,” Carmella quipped. “And I think it might have worked out in your favor.”
Nancy’s ears rang as she told him her number, watching as he typed it into his phone. All day, she’d sensed her life closing up, the avenues of possibility dying out. Yet here Kostos had been all along, waiting for her. Was it too good to be true?
ChapterFour
The cab from the Venice airport could only take them halfway to Teresa Cacciapaglia’s villa. This stood to reason, as most of Venice’s tremendous travel-ways were filled with water. Although Janine had read all about Venice, looked up photographs, and watched several films that took place there, nothing could fully prepare her for being there in real life. She was standing on the edge of a platform with her two girls, surrounded by their luggage, as a water taxi approached to pick them up. On both sides of the waterway were gorgeous buildings in ochre, dark green, and navy blue, just as fantastic looking as any painting. From a window across from her, a woman bent out and smashed a wooden block against a rug so that it puffed with dust.
“I can’t believe we’re here,” Alyssa breathed, stepping out onto the water taxi, dragging her suitcase behind her. On the way, the suitcase kicked up between the water taxi and the dock, and Janine was frightened it would tumble into the water below. From the look on the water taxi employee’s face, that sort of thing happened all the time. He was bored by the idea of it. Still, before Maggie and Janine could bring their own bags across, he hurried forward to collect them, then ushered them onboard.
As it was morning, the water taxi was filled with commuters. Janine studied them as they crept down the water toward the villa. For nearly all of Janine’s adult life, she hadn’t had to worry about money, a fact dictated by her relationship with Jack. But before that, before Nancy had left New York City, Janine had known the weight and shape of poverty. She knew how tired it made you. She saw that fatigue echoed out on the faces of the commuters and tried to imagine where in the world they were off to. Didn’t they know they lived in the most beautiful place in the world?
Then again, Janine lived in Martha’s Vineyard and often had to remind herself of the beauty that surrounded her. Humans could get used to anything, which was both a tragedy and a wonderful thing.
After five stops along the water taxi route, Janine announced to her daughters it was time to get off. Both of them were bleary-eyed and exhausted after the flight, muttering about how uncomfortable they were. When Jack had been alive, they’d often flown on a private plane, and the girls had grown accustomed to traveling in such luxury. But after Alyssa had taken the plane in November of 2021 (which had resulted in a horrific incident with a Dutch guy she’d met through Cole), Janine had sold the plane, grateful not to deal with the moralistic questions that came with owning such a thing. Now that Maggie and Alyssa were a little bit older, both with babies on the way, they understood that much better than before.
Teresa’s villa was located along the water, with a dramatic staircase that led to a large wooden door that, long ago, had been painted a deep red. Above the mailbox were tile letters that spelled out CACCIAPAGLIA. It seemed incredible to Janine that, all this time, Jack’s mother had lived here, knowing of him, yet never reaching out to him. Jack hadn’t bothered to come to see her, either.
What a waste.
“It looks haunted,” Alyssa said, standing at the base of the steps and gazing up.
“No wonder Dad never wanted to come here,” Maggie said. “He was always a scaredy-cat.”
Janine laughed, shivering with nerves. It was funny to remember, so many years later, the fact that Jack never wanted to watch horror movies, that he often covered his eyes during action sequences. It was funny that a man who’d torn her heart to smithereens and then ultimately died of a heart attack could be frightened of such banal things.
Alyssa used the thick iron knocker to rap on the door, and a moment later, a dark-haired woman in her thirties answered. Janine had been told someone would be there, but it occurred to her she had no idea who this was. Family maybe?
“Hi,” the woman said. “My name is Francesca. You must be Janine?”
Janine carried her suitcase up to stand next to Alyssa. “I’m Janine. These are my two daughters, Alyssa and Maggie.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” Francesca took first Alyssa’s suitcase, then Janine’s, then hurried down the steps to take Maggie’s. “Until recently, I worked as Teresa’s assistant. It’s stated in her will that I continue to be paid six months after her death to ensure that everything is taken care of.”
“Thank you,” Janine said, studying how easily the woman jumped up and down the steps and then led them into the shadowed foyer, where immaculate and very old paintings and tapestries adorned the walls. It was looking more and more haunted by the second.
