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Violet beamed and wrapped her hands behind her back. “I thought we could get mani-pedis today. Don’t worry. I looked it up, and it’s a myth that you can’t get mani-pedis while pregnant!”
Anna winced. In her normal life, manicures and pedicures weren’t her thing. She wasn’t a girly girl and instead considered herself an adventurer or a creative type.
“Besides,” Violet was saying, “you’re going to want fabulous nails when the baby comes. Photos of the baby will feature your hands. Remember that.”
Anna remembered Dean saying that his mother was slightly high-maintenance. She wasn’t sure how she’d forgotten that before telling Violet to stay in The Copperfield House for as long as she wanted. She felt on the brink of losing her mind.
Anna asked Violet for a bit of time before they left for mani-pedis. She showered and sat on her bed, staring into space as her hair dripped across her shoulders. Around her, The Copperfield House was vibrant, with numerous footsteps shaking the ancient bones of the place. It sounded like Scarlet was still around—a surprise since she spent so much time in Manhattan. But Anna remembered now that Scarlet had just graduated from NYU in December. Maybe she planned to stick around the island for a little while. Maybe she needed time to think about what was next.
Anna texted her cousin with questions.
ANNA: Hey! You’re still here?
SCARLET: Definitely! I’m still not sure about grad school, and Dad and I have another idea for a documentary.
ANNA: So you’ll be here for a while?!
SCARLET: At least until May.
ANNA: Ahh! Why didn’t anyone tell me?
SCARLET: (laughing-crying emoji) I don’t know! You’ve been out and about since I got here.
SCARLET: When are we going to hang out?
Anna chewed her lower lip and furrowed her brow, cursing the fact that Violet had pre-arranged her day without asking her. All she wanted was to sit on the back porch with Scarlet and gossip, just as they’d done all summer long. As Anna’s belly had grown, Scarlet had dated her way across the island, tending to her own broken heart and telling Anna all about it. Sometimes, she’d even brought Anna along on her adventures. The parties had been necessary distractions, helping Anna pretend she was just a normal twenty-four-year-old woman.
Anna waddled downstairs to find Violet dressed in a coat and hat. Aunt Alana was perched behind her, poring over a magazine across her lap. A long time ago, Alana had worked as a fashion model, and she still liked to peruse magazines to keep abreast of the latest clothing trends.
“Hey, Aunt Alana,” Anna stuttered. “Do you want to get mani-pedis with us?”
Alana would have normally jumped at that chance, but as she raised her head, her eyes glossed across Violet, taking stock of her. Violet had done little to make friends at The Copperfield House in the two weeks since she'd come to Nantucket. Anna had the sense that nobody trusted her—although she couldn’t imagine why. Violet was just a lonely woman.
“I have plans later, unfortunately,” Alana said. “Jeremy wants to meet for lunch.”
“Too bad,” Violet said, although she didn’t sound upset about it at all. She wanted Anna all to herself.
When Anna opened the front door, she found the porch laden with cardboard boxes. Violet shrieked with happiness.
“I was hoping they’d get here in time,” she said, scrambling to bring them inside.
Anna’s heart sank. Violet’s initial contribution to the nursery had doubled or tripled since her arrival. The nursery now looked like a hoarder’s nest. It was hard to believe The Copperfield House featured such a trashy room. She had no plans to bring her baby inside, not until she could figure out a way to clean it up.
“Violet.” Anna tried for the hundredth time as Violet released baby equipment from the boxes, tearing through the tape. “You’re doing too much for me.”
Violet smiled as though she’d won an award. “Nothing is too much for my grandson.”
Anna forced herself through the mani-pedis, making small talk with the nail technician until Violet completely took over their conversation. This was a habit of Violet’s—talking about her husband, her previous jobs, and her timeless memories in a way that completely obliterated anyone else’s stories. The nail technician seemed accustomed to this. She popped another strip of gum into her mouth and finished Anna’s toes as though she couldn’t hear.
After Anna’s fingernails dried, she picked up her phone and texted Scarlet.
ANNA: Give me an excuse to get away. Anything.
SCARLET: Um?
SCARLET: Let’s see.
SCARLET: I need your help writing a pitch for a documentary company. Something like that.
