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“Seriously, Sis,” Julia said. “You didn’t have to run off to New York City and leave us scratching our heads.”
Before Ella could protest, Alana stammered, “And don’t think for a second that this stupid piece of paper proves that you’re not actually our sister.”
Julia’s nostrils flared angrily. Before Ella could protest again, Julia then whispered, with a sudden smile, “But Will’s still here?”
Ella’s cheeks grew warm with girlish embarrassment. It was as though they were teenagers all over again. “I mean, he just wants to hang out with Danny,” she lied.
“The way he looks at you. That man doesn’t want to go anywhere you’re not going,” Alana insisted.
“Our relationship is difficult to explain.” Ella sounded timid. “Besides, when he heard about Joni Blackwood and all this drama, he knew I needed him. But he knows that I don’t need him forever.”
This was one of the biggest lies Ella had ever said aloud.
The following night, Ella returned to a dark Copperfield House at eight-thirty. It had been a terrifically difficult day in the world of the Nantucket Jubilee. The festival was set to begin the following afternoon, with an initial re-enactment of the arrival of The Heart of Nantucket, complete with appropriate costumes and a band that played the “top hits” of 1822. So far, multiple actors, writers, and musicians had arrived from across the United States and beyond, bringing with them multiple demands and multiple problems. Still, Stephanie assured Ella and the rest of the Nantucket Jubilee team that everything was off to a “great start.”
Ella stood in the kitchen at the stovetop and flipped a grilled cheese. As her thoughts slowed and her anxiety lessened, she realized that there were voices coming from the back porch. Very soon, she realized that the voices were all male: Danny’s, Will’s, and, remarkably, Bernard’s.
Ella stood in the shadows of the hallway with her grilled cheese sandwich lifted. Like a silly high schooler, she began to eavesdrop.
“Yeah, that last week, we were out in Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, and Los Angeles,” Will explained his latest tour.
“San Francisco used to be such a great town,” Bernard said, his words heavy with nostalgia. “That’s on my list of places I’d like to visit now that I’m out.”
“It’s definitely changed over the years,” Will countered. “Even back when Ella and I used to tour there in the 2000s, the crowd was different than it is today. The tech boom did a number on the city’s culture.”
“The tech boom!” Bernard chuckled to himself. “While I was away, I tried very hard to imagine how life would be once I got out. I have to admit that I was very wrong. I never could have imagined this ‘tech boom.’ I never could have imagined looking up anything you need to know at the drop of a hat. What was that website you showed me the other day, Danny?”
“Wikipedia,” Danny chimed in. “It has everything.”
Ella continued to listen, her grilled cheese untouched on her plate. Soon after, they reached the topic of what Bernard planned to do now that he was “free.”
“I don’t know how to feel about that word,” Bernard said philosophically. “I don’t believe that any of us are technically free, as we are parts of systems that are beyond our control. That said, I do have a life to live. A life that I will now think of as ‘after prison.’ And with that life, I haven’t a clue what to do.”
“I can imagine,” Will said softly. “It must be a very difficult thing to think about, especially after you lost so much time.”
“The artist residency sounded so cool,” Danny offered. “You should open it back up again!”
“Ella always spoke highly of the artist residency,” Will said. “She said you had a real talent for honing other people’s talents.”
Bernard barked with laughter. “I don’t know about that. Maybe it was all in my head. Besides, if we reopened The Copperfield House Artist Residency, who would come? I’m infamous across the country. On top of it all, I’m pretty old and out of practice these days.”
“Grandpa, you just wrote one of the top-selling books of the summer,” Danny interjected.
“I wrote that over the span of a decade,” Bernard insisted. After another pause, he added, “In any case, if we reopened the artist residency, I would need a great deal of help.”
“Your daughters are all incredibly artistic,” Will chimed in.
“True.” Bernard sounded contemplative. “It would be good to have another musician, Will. If you get what I’m hinting at.”
“Dad! You should totally work at the artist residency,” Danny cried.
“I don’t know.” Will sounded both intrigued and frightened at the prospect.
“You wouldn’t have to work all those bad jobs back in the city,” Danny continued.
“I’ll consider it if you consider it, Will.” Bernard spoke of this as though it was a pipe dream. “But I know that your heart lies in touring, and we won’t have you here at The Copperfield House for long, no matter how much Danny and I hope that you stay.”
Ella’s eyes filled with tears. Quickly, she rushed back toward the circular staircase and took the steps two at a time until she collapsed in her childhood bedroom. There, she pressed her face in her pillow and tried to imagine a beautiful future where she and Will kicked off the bad memories and started anew. Her imagination came up blank.
