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Chapter Twenty-Five

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A week after the dinner with Stan, Lola awoke at Tommy’s little cabin in the woods—one they had begun to completely redecorate, out with the Chuck and in with the Lola and Tommy. Lola hadn’t yet moved in, of course, but she spent enough time there, falling into that haziness of love with her sailor Tommy Gasbarro, that naturally, her flair for design and personality was everywhere. Tommy had begun paying rent to Scott and had even floated the idea of purchasing the place outright. This both thrilled and frightened Lola. After all: she had to question if Tommy truly wanted this life of romantic bliss, of the same-place, no-questions-asked. Already, he had asked her if she wanted to go on another sailing expedition over the winter in the southern hemisphere. Lola had said yes so quickly, she had nearly cut him off.

Yes. I want to go everywhere with you. I want to go everywhere and nowhere. I just want to be in your arms.

Lola dressed quickly and kissed Tommy on the cheek. “I promised I’d be home to watch Dad today,” she said.

“How’s he been lately?” Tommy asked.

“Better. And worse. And better. The birdwatching helps. The puzzles got boring for him, I guess.”

“They would for me, too.”

Lola drove back to the main house. Once she cut out of the driver’s seat, she wrapped her autumn jacket tighter around her neck and shivered. The second week of October in New England usually hinted toward business. Winter was no joke.

When she entered the living area, she found Susan standing in the center of the room, staring down at the phone in her hand. Her wig was luminescent, stunning, and her lips were parted slightly, as though she had been frozen in place in the middle of a sentence.

Immediately, Lola panicked.

It seemed obvious that Susan had just been on the phone.

“Susan?” Lola whispered, feeling the first bits of panic at her throat. She stood near the counter, in a seemingly perpetual state of dread. “Susan, do you even know I’m here?”

Susan turned her head slowly. She blinked several times and then allowed her phone to fall to the ground.

“Susan, talk to me. Did you get the test results back?” Lola demanded.

Finally, Susan nodded. “I did.”

“And?”

“I’m free. Cancer-free. There’s nothing else. They got it,” she whispered.

Lola burst toward her sister, totally ecstatic, and wrapped her arms around her tightly and held her close. Susan and Lola both sobbed with joy. The sound of it rocketed off the walls and sped up the stairs, incidentally interrupting both Audrey and Wes’s naps. Both of them appeared in the living room, groggy, wearing flannel pajamas.

“What’s going on?” Audrey asked.

“Cancer! Free!” Susan cried.

Audrey jumped onto her aunt and twirled her around. Wes burst into tears again and wrapped his arms around Susan, holding her head tightly against him—so tight that he accidentally messed up her wig. Susan couldn’t have cared less.

“I’ll grow a whole new head of hair, anyway!” she said. “It’ll be better than ever before.”

Chaos ensued after that. Lola supposed that was one of the things she liked most about her family: its affinity for bright lights, color, laughter and too much food, too many opinions, and too many stories to be told. Within minutes, they had decided on a celebration, to be held at the house that very evening. Christine was called to bake a dessert as quickly as she could; when she asked why and received the answer, she all-out screamed into the phone. Lola nearly dropped the it.

“Don’t scare Zach and Ronnie,” Lola said. “Who, by the way, are both invited. Yes, even Ronnie. Why not? Oh, he has marching band practice. Well, anyway, anyone you want to invite, bring them along! We want the biggest and best Sheridan family party this island has ever seen.”

Scott stumbled into the house minutes later and received the news. He fell onto his knees, placed his palms together, and thanked God himself. Susan then crumpled into his arms and kissed him thousands of times on the cheek until his cheeks were red from both embarrassment and happiness and Susan’s perfectly tinted lipstick.

“Okay, people!” Susan cried. “This will be our last barbecue of the season. I suggest we also make a bonfire out by the water. That will require wood and lots of it. Audrey? Dad? Maybe the two of you can go hunt for logs.”

Audrey saluted. “Aye, aye, captain.”

“And the others. Hmm. Lola. Meet Christine at the Inn, grab as many extra snacks as you can from the pantry there—I mean, come on, it’s the end of the season, we barely have anyone staying there right now! And then we’re going to need burgers and hot dogs and brats and... well. The list goes on and on.”

“And the list is always the same,” Lola said with a wide grin. “Let’s get to work.”

Lola burst into the bistro at the Sunrise Cove Inn to find Ronnie leaned against the counter, flicking through his phone, and Zach and Christine baking excitedly and gathering up extra snacks, drinks, and desserts from the pantry.

“Cancer-free!” Zach cried. He lifted a hand, and Lola smacked it.

“I can’t believe this,” Lola said. “It’s over. For real, this time.”

“We have to show her a good party,” Christine said. “Do you think Amanda has time to make it?”

“No. Not tonight. But I just texted her. She’ll come in tomorrow. And she’s already made reservations at that wedding dress boutique so that Susan can come with her.”

“The Sheridan clan is back on track,” Christine stated. “I couldn’t be happier.”

While Zach finished baking, Christine and Lola headed to the grocery store. They piled their cart with a Christmas celebration’s amount of food—so much so that the clerk at the counter arched his brow and said, “You ladies know that summer is over, right?”

“Maybe that’s what we’re celebrating,” Lola said. “Freedom from the tourists.”

The guy grumbled and began to scan the articles slowly. “Whatever.”

When Zach finished the cake, Lola, Christine, and Zach piled everything into the car and then retreated to the main house again. It was just after six, and guests had begun to arrive in staggered groups. There was Aunt Kerry and Uncle Trevor, all their children and their grandchildren, Susan’s best friends, Lily and Sarah, Lola’s dear friends, Monica and Hannah, along with all of their families, and Scott’s friends, Zach’s friends—friends and family members from all walks of life. All wore autumn jackets, some with hats, and they dropped off their beer, wine, and snacks on the main porch before wandering down toward the fire that Audrey, Wes, and Scott had built up together.

There was a lot of hugging—a lot of laughing. Christine, Lola, and Zach dragged various items from the back of the trunk, just as Tommy pulled up in his truck to help out. After hugging and kissing Lola, he greeted Zach with a high-five and congratulated him on some game they had played together.

“Are they hanging out without us?” Lola asked Christine.

“Apparently,” Christine said, shrugging.

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that,” Lola said.

“I think they might get too much power on their own,” Christine said, winking back at the guys. “We’ll find a way to stop it.”

Scott had already begun his long-standing tradition of making enough burgers and hot dogs to feed a small country. Abby and Gail, Claire’s fifteen-year-old girls, had begun to show everyone in the living room their newest abilities—juggling three items at once and being able to toss them back and forth, rotating who held which items. Susan lurched in and said, “Be careful, girls! There are some delicate things in here!”

Lola laughed, and Susan stalled. “What?”

“You just sound like the forever Mom. That’s all,” Lola said.

“What did I say?” Susan asked.

“About breaking things?”

“Oh. I barely know what I say when I say it,” Susan said, chuckling. “Hey, do you want to crack open that nice Pinot Grigio Zach talked about? The one you brought from the Inn? I’ve been dying to try it. Now that the season is over, I think it’s time.”

Lola agreed and stumbled back through the bags they had brought over to discover it. She cranked the cork out and then poured them each hefty glasses. Christine ambled in from the porch, having apparently escaped from some boring conversation with Uncle Trevor.

“Yes, please,” she said with a big smile.

Lola poured another glass.

Together, the three Sheridan sisters walked, wine in-hand, through the party, speaking with as many of their loved ones as they could, snacking and laughing amongst one another. Several times throughout their walk, Scott approached to kiss Susan; Zach approached to tease and dot a kiss on Christine’s nose; and Tommy approached with a big bear hug, pretending to take Lola along with him and throw her in the Sound. This, too, ended with a kiss. Each of them faded back into the crowd to converse about sports, about the approaching shift in weather, about how good the fire was. At this, of course, Audrey demanded everyone to tell her just how well-built the fire was. Apparently, she had watched a YouTube video and taught Wes a different way to set up the logs.

Wes lifted his palms to the sky and said, “I’ve been alive a long time, and I’m still able to learn new things. I have to thank my lucky stars for that.”

“Your lucky stars and this Wilderness Man YouTube channel,” Audrey added. “But nobody birdwatches like you, Grandpa. You should start a YouTube channel of your own and show everyone the birds of Martha’s Vineyard.”

Lola paused outside the conversation, turned, and furrowed her brow. “Actually, that’s a fantastic idea. Why don’t the two of you do that?”

Wes shrugged. “I don’t want to deal at all with the technology side of things.”

“You won’t have to,” Audrey insisted. “Just bring that personality and that big head of knowledge, and we’ll be good to go.”

From the other side of the fire, Audrey gave Lola a slight, meaningful wave. Despite her sass, Lola knew that Audrey was still just a frightened, earnest, whip-smart nineteen-year-old girl, on the verge of something enormous. When she gave birth the following year, everything would change for good. In a way, as she grew closer to her aunts, her grandfather and the island on which they had all grown up, she was allowed a little cozy ecosystem of time, a vacation before the true horror of adulthood began.

Oh, but it wasn’t all horror. How could it be? Lola had never been happier in her life. She was borderline-wildly in love with Tommy; she now lived on the most beautiful island on the planet (as far as she was concerned), and, beyond that—she had just been offered a part-time freelance gig at The New York Times.

Lola, Susan, and Christine wandered toward the edge of the dock, kicked off their shoes, and hung their legs down toward the glistening water. The air was chillier by the second. None of the women had anything to say. Their eyes scanned that glorious, orange and pink horizon line, as though they goaded the universe to hit them with something else. They would be ready.

As they sat together, they spotted a tiny fishing boat just out on the yonder waves.

“Is that him?” Lola whispered.

“I think so,” Christine returned.

“You didn’t invite him, did you?” Susan asked.

“No. But we should have,” Lola said. She stood quickly, her heart leaping into her throat, and then waved her hand this way, then that.

Stan Ellis, a man who had been more myth and legend and monster to them than the truth: a man whose life had been destroyed by horror and heartache, slowly turned his head toward the Sheridan residence. After a long pause, he cranked his engine, turned his boat toward them, and motored toward the shore. Orange and pink ripples billowed out behind him.

He returned to where it all began: where the Sheridan clan would continue to dance and sing and hold one another close, all through that night and a million into the future. His story was intrinsically tied with theirs. He belonged to the strange and varied tapestry of the Sheridan sisters. And it was there, on the Vineyard with them, that he belonged.