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The next morning at breakfast with Colin, Lola picked through a croissant slowly, insisting that she wasn’t hungry enough for a full breakfast, and listened to Colin rattle off the rest of his summer plans. At various junctures, he paused, as though he waited for her to interject that she wanted to be a part of those plans, too. Lola didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to hurt him. But she did want him gone.
After she dropped Colin off at the ferry, Lola leaped into an Inn vehicle and drove like a maniac down County Road, turning left at Edgartown-Vineyard Haven Road without a single inkling of what she wanted to do or where she wanted to go. She crept more and more toward Edgartown, then turned south toward Norton Point Beach. Before she fully knew what she had done, she parked the car next to The Right Fork Diner, a traditional American diner with the slogan, “Just Good Plane Food!” since it had views that overlooked the airfields. As she’d only managed to eat through one-half of a croissant, due to nerves, Lola had cooked herself up a decent appetite. She wanted to sit at a table, all by herself, and gaze out the window. She didn’t want to hear a single Wikipedia factoid for the rest of the day.
Lola ordered the Crabby Eggs Benedict, with seared crab cake and hollandaise sauce, along with a mimosa. As she returned the menu to the server, she once again had to admit, “Yes, I’m one of the Sheridan sisters. Yep, the youngest one, Lola.”
The woman, approximately her age in a bright red apron, tilted her hips and said, “Isn’t that just the way? We all find a way to come home, don’t we?”
Lola was accustomed to eating alone, especially after so many on-location trips for her career. She dug into her meal and stared ahead with somber eyes. The radio station played music from the early ‘00s, back when Audrey had been a little thing and eager to jump around and dance in their combined living room and kitchenette. Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake, J.Lo. Lola smirked at the memory, at the strange fashions—the bellbottoms she had worn on purpose over pairs of stiletto heels and the neon pink, so much neon pink, which she’d eventually given away in bulk at a church rummage sale down the block.
When Lola finished eating, she paid and tipped big, then left her car in the lot to wander south toward Katama Beach, which was a large and long peninsula of sand down on the south-eastern-most point on the island, a region with Katama Bay on the northern side and the Atlantic on the other. There, Katama Beach became Norton Point Beach, which then became Edgartown South Beach. Lola yanked off her shoes and walked slowly down the beach, digging her toes in the sand. Although it was still tourist season, the numbers had dwindled in the past week—proof that, in just a few days’ time, September would peek her ugly head through the calendar window.
Lola walked for what felt like forever until she reached the eastern tip of the peninsula that held full views of the neighboring Chappaquiddick Island. There on that point, she closed her eyes, inhaled softly, slowly.
There, as she stood with the breeze across her cheeks, she knew the full answer to the Colin equation.
He wasn’t the one for her.
She would find no happiness in his arms.
With this final admission, Lola allowed her shoulders to droop. She supposed, in a sense, she had wanted to return to Audrey with the news that she’d had a “much better time” than she’d anticipated; she wanted the hope that was tied up in a new relationship, a person who genuinely cared and wanted to be there.
Still, if there was anything Lola was and had always been, it was true to herself, to her heart, to her ideals.
Lola returned to Oak Bluffs about an hour later. She parked in the driveway and cut out of the car. Immediately, she heard the familiar, sing-song voices of Audrey and Wes out on the porch that overlooked the Sound. Her heart grew warm. As she stepped inside, she recognized that her father informed Audrey about the various types of birds that he normally spotted, even just in the woods near the house.
“The birds I like the most, I think, are the White-Throated Sparrows,” Wes explained. “They’ve got such interesting faces. Oh! And the European Starlings. Goodness, Audrey, you really must go with me some time.”
Lola reached for a glass of water and filled it, as Audrey responded with, “Why don’t we go right now?”
“Fantastic. I’ll grab my hat and binoculars,” Wes returned.
Suddenly, both Wes and Audrey appeared in the dark haze of the inner room. Audrey blinked toward her mother, recognizing her only after her eyes adjusted.
“How did it go with Colin!” she asked, as Wes disappeared in the closet in the far hallway. “You were so guarded last night.”
“Um. It was okay,” Lola said with a shrug.
“Just okay?” Audrey said, sounding disappointed. “But I was right about why he came, wasn’t I?”
Lola rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, Audrey. You were right.”
“I knew it,” Audrey said.
After Wes reappeared with binoculars and two hats, he dropped one atop Audrey’s head and beamed at her. “I’ve got myself a new partner, Lola. What do you think about that?”
“Finally, time for Audrey to get a new hobby,” Lola teased.
In reality, Lola knew that this particular weekend was difficult for Audrey. All the other students returned to Penn State, to their houses and dorms, to their parties and lives. Not Audrey, though. She would stay on the Vineyard for another two semesters, have her baby, nurse the baby, and then when the time was right, return to Penn State—assuredly with a baby-sized hole in her heart.
Lola knew that the separation would be difficult for Audrey. It very well could rip her in two.
As Audrey followed Wes back out onto the porch, she spun back and added, “I guess Colin’s no Tommy Gasbarro, huh?”
Lola grumbled. “Maybe it’s time you stay out of my love life? Unless you want me to get involved with yours.”
“Point taken,” Audrey affirmed. “Catch you later.”
Lola situated herself on the porch swing with a mug of tea and blinked out across the Sound. Her thoughts were hazy, inarticulate. It felt strange to be alone at the big house alone, especially after that summer—and it made her jumpy and a bit volatile, as though she had lost touch with the idea of being with her thoughts.
The screen door swung closed to reveal Christine, bleary-eyed and in the middle of a yawn.
“There you are!” she said. “Susan and Scott are on their way here. Susan says she has an appetite for the first time in a few days and wants to grill. You game?”
“Sure thing,” Lola said. “I’ll start the coals if you pour the wine?”
“Always,” Christine returned.
Lola got to work, grateful to have something to do with her hands. As she fired up the coals, Christine chatted about her day at the bistro, about how school was about to start, which meant that Ronnie would have to take fewer hours, and about working fewer hours, herself, now that the bistro would transition into autumn.
“To be honest, working six days a week at the bistro has nearly destroyed me,” Christine said. “I’ll be glad to sleep in a little bit more. Drink coffee on the porch after eight instead of after four.”
“You deserve it,” Lola said.
Felix stuck his head up on the screen window. Christine let the little creature out on the porch. He sauntered out like he owned the place. Even his meows sounded like orders.
“He’s really taken to the Vineyard,” Lola said with a laugh.
“I know. It’s like he always had it in him,” Christine said.
Scott and Susan arrived a few minutes later with groceries. Susan’s skin looked a bit brighter; her eyes seemed clear. Still, she sat on the porch swing next to Lola and gripped her arm with exhaustion.
“I missed you! You played host all day yesterday, and I hardly saw you a second,” Susan said.
“Oh, right. Your editor,” Scott said. “He seemed like a decent guy?”
“He’s all right,” Lola admitted. After a pause, she said, “I see that Tommy’s helping you with some Inn repairs?”
Scott nodded. “He’s been a big help, actually.”
Lola felt as though Scott didn’t want to give her all the information she needed.
It was also possible that he wasn’t being secretive on purpose. Men were a little oblivious like that, weren’t they?
“I’m just surprised he’s still there,” Lola continued, watching as Scott removed the burger meat and hot dogs from the crinkly paper bag. Lola gripped the stem of her wine glass a little too hard; her fingers turned white.
“Yeah?” Scott said.
“Yeah. Still, at Chuck’s, I mean. I had a feeling that he wouldn’t stick around so long.”
Scott disappeared for a moment, then reappeared with a large plate and several containers of spices. He then washed his hands and returned to the porch to begin to prepare the meat. All the while, the Sheridan sisters remained quiet.
Finally, Susan aided Lola’s quest along.
“Why did he stick around so long, Scott?” she asked.
“Hmm? Oh. Tommy?”
“Yes. Gosh,” Christine said, snapping back into old-world, volatile Christine.
Scott blinked, clearly confused. “Oh, um. He mentioned something about needing to stick around on the Vineyard because of erm. Of Stan.” He dropped his eyes back to the meat and began to knead spices into the pink meat.
Ah! So he had been cagey on purpose.
He hadn’t wanted to say Stan’s name and get the Sheridan sisters all riled up.
But here they were: riled up.
“What’s up with Stan?” Lola interjected.
Scott’s cheeks burned red. “He um. He’s had some health problems lately, apparently.”
“Oh my gosh,” Susan blurted. “I just realized. I haven’t seen Stan Ellis out on his boat in weeks.”
“That’s so true! Normally, no matter where you are on the island, if you look out—you see Stan and his little fishing boat,” Christine said.
“He must be really sick,” Susan marveled. “I can’t believe we didn’t notice it until now.”
“I think we’ve had enough on our plate to notice,” Christine said.
Everyone held this thought for a moment. Scott splashed various burger patties onto the grill and then placed his hands on his hips. The smell of cooking meat hung in the air.
“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Christine said then.
“What?” Lola asked.
“Mom came to hate the Inn in the end, right? She said it represented everything that had gone wrong in her marriage. She wanted to escape all of it and run to Stan. Now, years and years later, Stan Ellis’s ex-stepson is the one helping Scott fix it back up again. What a strange series of events. I just wonder what Mom would say about it all.”
Suddenly, Wes appeared through the screen door. Apparently, he had arrived back from bird watching with Audrey, and they had entered through the back door to dispose of their shoes in the mudroom. His eyes scanned each of them, and his face was stoic, his eyes stormy.
It was clear that he had been listening. This hadn’t been a conversation that any of them had truly wanted him to hear.
“I can tell you what your mother would have said about it all,” Wes boomed.
This was a surprise.
“Dad, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk about this,” Susan said. She patted the space beside her on the porch swing, trying to guide him to rest.
“No. I won’t sit. I need to say this,” Wes continued as his eyes flashed wickedly. “You think it’s strange this man helps Scott with the Inn? I think your mother would think it was the simplest thing in the world. Here on Martha’s Vineyard, we are about kindness and compassion. We help one another when times are rough. It doesn’t matter about the past or where we’re headed in the future. If something needs fixing, we fix it. If something needs care, we give it. And if someone needs forgiving, we forgive.”
Wes set his jaw and gripped the side of the screen door with white knuckles. Audrey appeared beside him, the binoculars still strapped around her neck. After a strange pause, her eyes cut across the crowd, searching each of their faces.
“If I’m not mistaken, I think I just walked into yet another awkward Sheridan conversation,” she said. “What did you guys step in this time?”