Napi’s Restaurant was a Provincetown institution. It had a clubby, secret hideaway sort of feel nestled on Freeman Street. But with one quick turn off Commercial, you couldn’t miss it, thanks to a sign strung with Christmas lights and featuring a giant red arrow pointing to the front door.
The dinner was Elodie’s idea.
“I want to thank you for the accommodations,” she’d said.
Celeste picked the restaurant. The dining room had a beamed wood ceiling, brick walls, and a long bar framed by panels of stained glass and decorated with more Christmas lights. The walls were filled with hundreds of paintings collected by the restaurant’s owner, eighty-eight-year-old Napi Van Dereck.
“Interesting art,” she said.
“All by locals.”
That was the end of the conversation for several awkward minutes until the menus arrived. Celeste knew it by heart but focused her eyes on it like she was reading a novel.
“What are you having?” Elodie said.
“The jerk chicken.” It was her favorite thing on the menu, prepared with an apple-pear chutney and served with black beans, rice, and a crisp plantain fritter.
“Jerk chicken? Out of all these options?”
“There’s nothing better. We’ve got a wonderful Jamaican population here, so the food is authentic.”
“Well, I’m having the cod,” Elodie said, closing the menu.
“That’s good, too.”
“I should hope so,” Elodie said. “If you can’t get decent seafood here, where can you?”
After their server took their order, Elodie sipped her Scotch. Suddenly, there was nothing to talk about.
“So what’s going on with you and your Pavlin & Co pop-up?” Celeste said. With everything else that was happening, she’d almost forgotten about it. Probably because she’d tried to forget about it.
“It’s on the back burner for the moment. Things certainly move slowly around here. Doesn’t that ever bother you?”
“Why would that bother me?” Celeste said.
“It’s just . . . why did you choose this place? Don’t get me wrong—it’s a charming town. A perfect getaway. But to never come back to Manhattan? I find it difficult to understand. And I know Mom and Dad always felt hurt by it.”
“They were hurt? How do you think I felt—they never once came to visit me. They only wanted a relationship on their terms. They told us to do what they wanted, when they wanted, and how they wanted. All I did was choose to live my own life.”
“They had strong opinions. But they earned it. Besides, they only wanted for us to be happy.”
Where on earth had her sister gotten that idea? Celeste had certainly never seen any indication of that.
“Let me ask you something: Why did you give them a free pass when it came to Paulina and Liam, but you cut me out of your life?” Celeste said.
“Really? You want to get into all of that, now of all times? Because I’d rather not.”
“You’re here for the summer. We’re under the same roof. It’s the elephant in the room, and I’d like to address it.” Celeste folded her arms.
“Perhaps this dinner was a bad idea,” Elodie said with a sigh.
The silence returned. Across the restaurant, Celeste saw friends of hers seated at a table with their baby daughter in a high chair. They had struggled for a long time to become parents and it warmed her heart to see them happy. It made her think of her own life and her sister’s.
“Did you ever want children?” Celeste said.
“Celeste, I’d like to enjoy my cocktail.”
Celeste shrugged. “I figured since we haven’t had a meal just the two of us in, oh, several decades, we might as well make the most of it.”
“You don’t have children, either.”
“See? We have something in common.”
Elodie seemed to consider this, fidgeting with her drink. “Yes, if it weren’t for Gemma, the family line would be ending with us. How ironic: Paulina and Liam caused such a rift in our family, and now their heir will be the only one to continue it on.” She looked up at Celeste. “Does she know that her father was my boyfriend first?”
Celeste’s jaw dropped. “Oh, good heavens, Elodie. Come on.”
“It’s a legitimate question. What do you think?”
“I really don’t know. I don’t think so. Who would have told her? She was only eight when they died. Why even think of such a thing?”
“So now my relationship, the one that was stolen from me, is the dark secret? No wonder she’s confused why I didn’t welcome her with open arms. Well, she should know that I was robbed—by her mother.”
“Please, stop. This is ancient history. You’re in a relationship now, right? Can’t you just be happy with that?”
Elodie sipped her drink. A slow smile took over her face. She looked ten years younger.
“Tito and I are just friends,” she said.
“Oh no, you don’t. You’re willing to talk about a guy who burned you a quarter of a century ago, but not about the guy you’re involved with today?”
“Fine,” Elodie said, reaching for the bread. “Go ahead. I give you one question, one get-out-of-jail-free question. And then I want to make small talk like regular civilized people.”
But in that moment Celeste realized she actually didn’t want to ask a question. What she really wanted, what she’d wanted for so many years, was to make a confession.
It was as if she’d been waiting to talk to her sister all this time.
“You know, it’s my fault Paulina went on that trip. If she’d stayed in New York like Mom wanted, she’d still be alive today.” She reached for her water glass, her hand shaking.
“What are you talking about?” Elodie said, covering her mouth full of bread.
“Paulina went to France because I encouraged her to. Mom was telling her to stay in the city, and she was genuinely considering it.”
“Celeste, you can’t possibly blame yourself. I never believed Paulina was going to settle down in one place. And Liam—that conniving opportunist—was more than happy to flit around the globe on her dime.”
Celeste shook her head. “I’m telling you, there was a change in Paulina the last time I spoke to her. It was that weekend of Gemma’s birthday party. I think if I’d encouraged her, she would have stayed in New York—at least for a while. She’d still be alive.” Her voice cracked on the last part. She felt herself shaking.
“Paulina’s death was an accident,” Elodie said, leaning across the table and patting her arm. “She could have stayed in New York City and gotten hit by a bus, for heaven’s sake. You have to let that go.”
Celeste bowed her head, letting her sister’s words wash over her. She waited to feel some sense of relief, but the guilt felt even more acute now that it was out there in the open. She appreciated Elodie’s rush to absolve her, but she wasn’t exactly objective.
“Did you mourn her at all? I mean, I know you were angry for all those years. But when she died . . .”
“I mourned the sister I loved when she betrayed me. I lost her when she took Liam away. I was stunned by her death—by both of their deaths. But I’d already mourned them. They were strangers by the end.”
“I should have stayed in closer touch with Gemma. It was just so complicated with the Maybrooks . . .”
Elodie shrank back in her seat, shaking her head. “Celeste, you can’t blame yourself. Honestly.”
The server arrived with their food. The aroma of spices and butter distracted Celeste for a moment, but when she picked up her fork she found she’d lost her appetite. Elodie dipped into her cod and tasted it, declaring it delicious. It took her a few moments to realize Celeste wasn’t eating. “You’re not doing much to convince me the jerk chicken is the best thing on the menu,” she said with a smile.
“I wish I could go back in time,” Celeste said.
Elodie leaned forward and again reached for her hand. “Let’s look ahead, okay? You know what: Let’s go wedding dress shopping together. I’ll call Vera Wang . . . we can spend a few days in the city.”
Celeste shook her head. “Thanks for the offer but that’s not really me.”
“So what do you plan to do for a dress?”
“There’s a vintage shop I like.” She hesitated. “Do you . . . want to come with me?”
Elodie smiled. “Of course,” she said. “What are sisters for?”