Page 11 of Return to Whitmore (The Whitmore #2)

Chapter Eight

I t was a little past midnight on Addison’s first night in Nantucket.

Mercifully, Addison had excused herself to the guest bedroom, leaving Charlotte reeling in her own bed, thinking about “Seth Green” and his lies, about Addison and her confusion and her children so far away in Hawaii (children Charlotte had assumed she’d never know), and, of course, the chef at Chez Paul.

Vincent, after all these years. Who would have thought?

Because she couldn’t sleep, Charlotte googled Vincent and read a write-up of his tremendous skills as a chef, with some restaurant reviewers calling him Nantucket’s answer to the next wave of inventive cooking.

Charlotte’s heart pounded with pride. Was this really the man she’d fallen in love with as a teenager?

Was this the man who’d made them three-flavor ice cream sundaes and dipped his Twizzlers in soda pop to suck it up?

Did that man have such an exquisite palate?

She laughed, her eyes filling with tears, and continued to dig deeper into Vincent’s life thus far.

Eventually, she found what she’d been after—wedding photos.

Just as Charlotte had both assumed and dreaded, Vincent had married Jamie when they were twenty-five years old, back in 2005.

In the photos, Jamie was a gorgeous and blushing bride, and Vincent was a handsome and grown-up version of the teenager she’d known.

They slow danced and kissed and ate cake and laughed in front of their friends and family.

Namely, there were Vincent’s mother and father in the front row, holding hands and watching.

They looked at Jamie the way they’d once looked at Charlotte—as though she were the answer to their son’s happiness.

Once upon a time, Charlotte had fantasized about her own wedding to Vincent.

She couldn’t help but feel an intense sorrow.

It was funny because she’d let herself forget about Vincent over the years, mostly. He’d come to her mind every now and again, of course, but that was only natural when you’d had such a powerful love at such a young age. You were always eager to compare what came after with what came before.

Charlotte had never gotten married, but she’d come close. She didn’t like to think about it. But it was true that that man, Ralph, hadn’t made her feel loved the way Vincent had. She darkened her phone and put her hands over her face. Maybe Vincent had stuck to her heart more than she’d thought.

It was true what she’d told Nina. She’d more or less hidden herself away the past year, editing her documentary and waiting to hear from her producers—and from Jack.

Now, Jack was apparently missing, his wife was here, looking for him, and Nina was also here, digging around.

More than that, Addison didn’t know her husband’s real name.

What would happen if Charlotte revealed it?

Would Addison divorce Jack? Was that what Jack wanted, to be rid of the family he’d built in his second life?

Charlotte felt a wave of anger toward her little brother. Why did he make such an enormous mess? She was too old to clean this up for him.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Charlotte winced. What was happening now? When she got out of bed and tiptoed to the foyer, she heard Addison’s door scream open.

“Is that Seth?” Addison cried.

I sincerely doubt it , Charlotte didn’t say.

Charlotte peeked through the door glass to find Nina, shivering, her hands cupping her elbows.

This was the last thing Charlotte needed.

Maybe she could tell Nina it was too late, that she needed the night to herself?

But how could she turn Nina away after everything else?

Charlotte’s heart stirred with sorrow and guilt.

Nina made eye contact with Charlotte through the glass and called out, “Are you okay?”

Realizing she was acting strange, Charlotte quickly unlocked the door and ushered Nina in. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m sort of out of my mind right now.”

Addison hurried into the foyer, wringing her hands. Her eyes were buggy. “Do you know Seth?” she asked Nina.

Nina gaped at her, aghast. Then she gave Charlotte a look that Charlotte translated as you lied about what you were up to tonight, didn’t you ? Charlotte locked the door and pulled her fingers through her hair.

“Wine? Tea?” Charlotte suggested. But nobody heard her.

“Seth Green?” Nina asked, narrowing her eyes.

“That’s my husband,” Addison said. “He’s missing. Do you know him?”

Charlotte stepped away from them, her heart hammering.

“I don’t know,” Nina said. “I think I might.” She gave Charlotte another look.

Charlotte walked to the sofa and sat down. Both Nina and Addison remained standing.

“What happened?” Charlotte asked Nina. “I thought you were in for the night?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Nina said. “I was out for a drive and saw your lights on. I wouldn’t have knocked otherwise.”

Charlotte nodded. Long ago, Nantucket had that cozy neighborhood feel, where you could just drop by your neighbor’s place without asking first. But nobody had done that to her in a long time. She hadn’t been ready.

But Nina was her sister, sort of.

Not by blood, of course. But Nina didn’t know that yet. Maybe Charlotte would never tell her.

“Who are you?” Addison asked Nina, her voice warbling.

Nina took a deep breath and turned to look at her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry your husband is missing.” And then, she threw her arms forward and drew her into a hug.

Tears sprang to Charlotte’s eyes. It was clear that however Nina had been raised in Michigan, she’d been raised to learn compassion and love.

She could show it, perhaps better than Charlotte could.

Charlotte stood and flinched, trying to draw herself near, to hug her sister and sister-in-law.

But she couldn’t bring herself to and instead crossed her arms over her chest.

Eventually, it was clear that they wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight.

Charlotte grabbed a bottle of wine and three glasses and poured as Addison explained everything to Nina, everything she already had to Charlotte, that she and “Seth” had been living in Hawaii, that he’d disappeared, that they had three children.

Nina blinked back tears and finally told her, in a shaking voice, “Seth is my older brother.”

Addison gasped and clutched Nina’s hands. “But you’re just a baby!”

Nina laughed. “I’m thirty-eight,” she said. “Not such a baby. Not in most circles.”

“I mean, you’re younger than us,” Addison said, gesturing toward Charlotte.

“I was the youngest,” Nina agreed. “Seth was my older and most favorite brother.”

“Is there another brother?” Addison asked, mystified.

Nina blinked at Charlotte. Confusion filled her face. It was clear she didn’t know how much to share, how much to show. Charlotte didn’t know either.

“I haven’t seen Seth since I was eleven years old,” she said finally. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed him.”

Because she thought he was dead , Charlotte thought darkly.

Addison slumped on the sofa and rubbed her temples.

She began to talk in circles, telling Nina about her and Jack’s marital problems, about the fights they’d had through the years, and the time they’d nearly divorced.

“But never, through any of that, did he tell me he had siblings and a house on Nantucket. I don’t know what to believe. ”

Charlotte’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Addison and Nina didn’t notice and continued to speak. Now that it was late, later than late, Charlotte couldn’t fathom who it might be, but curiosity pulled her to the kitchen to check it.

Miraculously, it was a message via the comment section on her filmmaker website. Nobody had used that box in maybe six years. She clicked through, expecting to read spam bots or something like that, but discovered that, in fact, a real, flesh-and-blood person had been the writer.

Unknown: Hello, it’s Vincent. I know tonight was a surprise for both of us. I would have liked to talk more. How long are you on the island?

Charlotte’s knees clacked together. She considered writing back and telling him to leave her alone. Instead, she shoved her phone into the back corner of the kitchen and pressed the heel of her palm to the top of her head.