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Chapter One
It was the hazy week between Christmas and New Year’s—a time that demanded movie marathons, Christmas leftovers, warming up by the fireplace, and not a whole lot else. Heaps of glittering snow covered Nantucket Island, and the ferry service had been shut down for three days. This meant islanders couldn’t go back to the mainland, and only those with boats of their own and enough bravery in their hearts could travel across the sloshing Sound at all. The majority of Nantucketers remained safe at home, watching the gusts of snow-filled air rush up against their cozy houses, feeling grateful for another year gone by.
Blissful from multiple Christmas celebrations, Katrina often hummed or smiled while gazing at Grant, her husband of forty-five years. She was in awe of him. How had she gotten so lucky? When it was just the two of them in their big house alone, they held hands over the scratchy blanket on the couch, recounting old Christmas memories or playing Scrabble till their eyes hurt. She wished for a thousand more Christmases by his side.
Grant and Katrina were both sixty-five years old. These days, Grant’s hair was a mix of salt and pepper, his beard thick and rugged, and his twinkling eyes sported soft bags beneath them.Katrina had begun dyeing her hair a luscious maple brown many years ago when the first flecks of gray had filled her with dread. She wished she could tell her thirty-something self not to fear the passage of time. She wished she could tell her that aging was a blessing, especially when you could do it alongside someone you loved.
The house phone rang at nine o’clock on the evening of December 28th. Katrina was in the kitchen, arranging their plates and cutlery in the dishwasher as Grant flicked through the sports channels on the television in the family room. Dinner had been pork chops and mashed potatoes, with leftover Christmas cookies for dessert. Everything had the air of indulgence. Katrina dreaded January 2nd when she planned to incorporate a few more greens into her diet. It was such fun to eat whatever she pleased. She felt like a kid again.
Katrina dried her hands on a kitchen towel and answered the phone, imagining it was her sister-in-law, Estelle, or perhaps her oldest daughter, Ida. Her younger daughter, Sophie, hardly ever called.
“Good evening. Coleman residence.”
“Hello, Mrs. Coleman.” The voice was warm yet tentative. “It’s Connie. Your mother’s nurse?”
A chill raced down Katrina’s spine. “Of course. Connie. How are you?”
“I don’t want to beat around the bush, so I’ll just come out with it.” Connie went on. “Your mother fell this evening at home. I called the ambulance immediately, and we’re on our way to the hospital.”
Katrina’s vision narrowed to a single black dot in front of her. Her knees turned to Jell-O. “She fell?” Her voice was hardly a rasp.
She wanted to say,didn’t I hire you just to avoid this kind of emergency?But she kept that to herself.
Connie continued. “I was upstairs. I’d asked your mother to call me with the device we gave her if she needed anything. But you know how stubborn she can be. She decided to walk to the kitchen by herself. She took a tumble on that small staircase between the living room and the kitchen. I heard the fall from upstairs and ran down as quickly as I could.”
Katrina could hardly imagine her eighty-five-year-old mother bent and twisted on the hardwood floor. It went beyond her understanding of the old, formidable woman who’d been too proud to go to a nursing home. Katrina had had to tell a half lie when she’d hired Connie, insinuating to her mother that Connie really needed the job. That her mother was doing a good deed in allowing her to “sit around” and help out occasionally.
In the car on the way to the hospital, Katrina shook so violently that her knees rattled together. Grant held her hand between the seats, his thumb stroking her gently. Enormous snowbanks on either side of the island streets towered over their Prius. The streetlamps cast them in a neon glow.
“I can’t help but feel like she did this to spite me,” Katrina whispered. “She figured out Connie was a real nurse. And she wanted to prove she could fall, anyway. Even with all the help in the world.”
Katrina’s heart seized with sorrow and guilt the minute she said it. She snapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I don’t know why I said it.”
Grant’s hand tightened over hers. “I’ve known your mother since we were teenagers,” he said. “She’s never been the easiest woman in the world.”
Grant didn’t agree or disagree with Katrina. He was simply reminding her of the truth of her life. Although she loved her mother with every ounce of her soul, she did so, knowing that at every turn, her mother could answer a compliment with an insult. She could bite when you least expected it.
Katrina’s mother, Agatha Whittaker, was born on Nantucket Island eighty-five years ago. She’d been one of five siblings, the only girl, and the only one who’d ultimately stayed on Nantucket to raise her own family. The fact that she’d only had two children, Katrina and her older brother, Norm, had been a devastating loss to Katrina’s grandparents. They’d expected heaps of grandchildren running around Nantucket, so many that they forgot their names.
When Katrina’s father, Calvin, died many years ago, Katrina had half expected her mother’s inner rage to fade. She’d imagined her finding new hobbies, new interests. She’d imagined her writing a book about the history of Nantucket Island or painting a self-portrait or teaching her grandchildren to bake. Instead, she’d hardened her heart even more to the outside world. Whenever Katrina brought up the idea of leaving that enormous house where Katrina had been raised, Agatha had practically spat with rage. “This is the home your father bought for me. You’ll have to carry me out of here.”
It was true. Agatha wasn’t the easiest woman in the world. But Katrina had no idea what to expect when they reached the hospital. Watching a great and manipulative leader fall would terrify anyone who’d once called them powerful. As Grant pulled into the parking lot, her mind’s eye flashed with images of her mother throughout Katrina’s childhood—five foot nine with perfect posture, wearing an apron she never got dirty, her hair gorgeously permed, her waist always size two.“Norm? Katrina? Turn off the television! You’re going to burn your eyes out!”And then their father, upstairs, howling,“Can’t I get any quiet in this house?”
Katrina and Grant approached the long white desk at the front of the hospital, holding hands. When they explained why they were there, the young woman said that Agatha’s doctorwould be with them shortly. “Have a seat in the waiting room,” she instructed. “There’s free coffee in the corner.”
Katrina checked her phone. It was nine thirty. The only messages she’d received since she’d gotten the call from Connie were from Ida, who’d sent photographs of Nellie and Frankie, her granddaughters. They were home on Nantucket, visiting from college. Katrina had taken approximately two hundred photographs of them over Christmas—baking cookies, walking along the shore, and gossiping together. Sometimes, it was hard for her to remember that beautiful, loving Frankie and Nellie were genetically linked to Agatha and Calvin Whittaker.
Then again, it wasn’t that the Coleman name didn’t have their share of skeletons in the closet. The story of Chuck’s second family had certainly reared its ugly head in 2023.
Connie appeared a few minutes later. In her mid-fifties, she was short and muscular with tight curls that raced down her shoulders. Her face was blotchy, as though she’d been crying.
Katrina’s heart melted when she saw her. This woman had to field a great deal of Agatha Whittaker's vitriol and insults over the past few years. She’d done it with grace.
Before Katrina could say anything, the doctor appeared and led Grant and Katrina to his office. Like everyone in Nantucket, Katrina knew bits and pieces about the doctor’s life. She knew his wife volunteered at the soup kitchen and his children were outstanding gymnasts. She also knew that as a high schooler, he’d had to repeat grade ten due to reckless partying.
But the man before her looked solemn and thoughtful, with bags under his eyes that proved the weight of his profession. She decided to shove her assumptions about him to the side.
“Your mother had a nasty fall,” he said. “When she first got here, we contemplated immediate surgery.”
