Page 21 of Return to Whitmore (The Whitmore #2)

Chapter Seventeen

I t was during that first official “date” in their secret spot, their first meeting as forty-something adults with so much history behind them, that Vincent mentioned all the gossip that still swirled around Nantucket, gossip about the Whitmores and their secrets and their treasure.

They were walking post-picnic along the beach, their sandals off and their toes in the water.

At some point during their conversation, Charlotte could half imagine that they were seventeen again, biding time till their parents demanded they come home.

“That treasure,” Charlotte said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t even think it exists, but it’s caused so much trouble.” She told him about Nina’s soon-to-be ex-husband and how he basically married her to get to the bottom of it and steal it out from under her. In the process, he’d destroyed her life.

“Is that why you’re here with me today? You want the treasure?” she asked.

Vincent cackled, throwing his head back.

“If there ever was a treasure, I’m pretty sure it was taken by pirates or something in the nineteenth century.

The history of that old place is astounding.

Thousands upon thousands of travelers of all makes and models have come in and out of the White Oak Lodge over the years, and probably half of them made their money stealing and swindling.

But it’s funny that the treasure still captures our attention all these years later. ”

Charlotte paused and wiggled her toes in the sand. She hadn’t yet told Vincent any of the heavy stuff from her past—not about the accident, Jack’s false name, or her suspicions that her father and Tio Angelo were still alive. Suspicions do not make facts , she thought.

“Are you leaving the island any time soon?” Vincent asked, his voice wavering. It was as though he suspected her to dart out of his life at a moment’s notice.

Charlotte raised her head and looked him in the eye. “No,” she said. “I have no plans to leave. My time in the city is over and done with. I can focus here.” She swallowed. It was almost the truth.

Vincent was quiet for a moment. “You know, I never understood why that White Oak Lodge was never reopened.”

Charlotte sniffed. “It burned down. Remember?” She tried to laugh, but it didn’t feel very funny.

“Yes, but you’ve seen it, haven’t you?” Vincent continued. “Only bits of the wings here and there collapsed, and a lot of it is salvageable. Someone protected it with some powerful tarps. I imagine much of the inside is still sturdy with that old-world magic. Do you know who it belongs to?”

“My father, I guess.” Charlotte’s stomach felt tied in knots. If he’s around still, why hasn’t he come back to claim his majestic hotel?

“Who did he leave it to in his will?” Vincent asked.

Charlotte snorted. “Probably my mother.” Francesca, who wanted nothing to do with the Lodge, nothing to do with Nantucket, nothing to do with some of her children.

“Do any of your siblings have an interest in reopening it?” Vincent asked.

“I hardly talk to any of my siblings,” Charlotte admitted. “Nina’s the only one.”

Vincent furrowed his brow. “I know of a few potential buyers, if you’re interested. Maybe you can talk to your mother about it. Maybe that’s the real Whitmore treasure.”

Charlotte’s head throbbed. Selling the White Oak Lodge seemed like an impossibility.

At the same time, it was literally just rotting on that property along the beach, a property that probably had shot to twenty times its value since the nineties.

The going rate for houses around here was in the upper millions, far and away more than anything Charlotte could possibly pay.

If one of Nantucket’s wealthy tourists really bought what was left of the White Oak Lodge, Charlotte could get out of the house on Madequecham Beach.

She could fund her own films and not wait around for support from various production companies.

She could build a new life where she didn’t feel so many ghosts.

“Let me talk to Nina,” Charlotte said, her chest frothing with doubt. “But it sounds so nice to get rid of that old place.”

“Sometimes it’s necessary to cut yourself away from the past, I guess.” Vincent furrowed his brow. He touched her hand delicately. “But I want to tell you, Charlotte. I never felt cut away from you.”

Charlotte’s heart thumped. Before she could stop herself, she slid her fingers through his and raised her chin, strengthening their eye contact. The roar of the ocean filled her ears. She had no idea what was going to happen next.

It was mid-July and the hottest day of the year when Nina left the island and returned with her children in tow.

Charlotte and Addison had decorated the house on Madequecham Beach for their arrival, eager to meet their niece and nephew for the first time, and when Nina’s headlights flashed in the inky night, Charlotte’s heart nearly burst with expectation.

Never had she imagined she’d meet any of her nieces and nephews.

Addison, who planned to leave Nantucket in a few days, opened the door as Will and Fiona sped inside.

“Are you our aunts?” Fiona cried. Her wrists were covered in friendship bracelets, and there were smudges from face paint on her cheeks. She was adorable in all the ways Nina had once been adorable.

“We are,” Addison said. “I’m Aunt Addison, and this is your Aunt Charlotte.”

One after another, Fiona and Will threw their arms around their new aunts and then allowed themselves to be led out to the porch, where Charlotte had set out a homemade cake and plenty of snacks.

Addison had said she was overdoing it, and Charlotte had shrugged and said, “So be it.” She’d never been allowed to be a mother.

She’d never even tried to get pregnant. But a part of her wanted to know what it felt like to care about a child so much, to watch their excitement grow.

Nina looked exhausted but thrilled to have her children on the island. Charlotte filled her a glass with wine and ordered her to sit down. Already, Fiona and Will were feasting on chocolate cake, their cheeks slathered with frosting.

“How was the drive?” Charlotte asked.

“Exhausting,” Nina admitted. “But it was all worth it. My babies are here!”

“Mom,” Fiona said, rolling her eyes. “We’re not babies.”

Nina laughed. “I know, sweetie. But thanks for coming home for the weekend anyway. I know it’s hard to pull yourselves away.”

It was true that Fiona and Will seemed to have integrated beautifully within their camp community. They’d been there for weeks, which was as good as an entire life to kids of their age. They told Charlotte and Addison tons of stories about their friends and the activities that filled their days.

“Camp ends in August,” Nina stated. “And I told them they’ll be starting here in Nantucket in the fall.”

“But a few of our camp friends live in Nantucket,” Will explained with a shrug.

“We like it here,” Fiona agreed. “We like the water!”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to swim all winter long.” Nina laughed.

“We can try,” Charlotte said, smiling as she imagined the four of them (Charlotte, Nina, Will, and Fiona) making a life in Nantucket through the wintertime.

A couple of hours later, when Will and Fiona were off to bed, sleeping off their sugar and camp exhaustion, Charlotte, Nina, and Addison cleaned up the little party and gathered on the porch to watch the moonlight over the water.

Nina and Addison barely waited a millisecond before they peppered Charlotte with questions, asking her how it was going with Vincent.

They’d gone on four dates so far, four incredible dates, and Charlotte felt all swimmy with affection.

They hadn’t spent the night together because they wanted to take things slow.

But Charlotte felt as though they were moving in a direction. It was beautiful.

“I’m so happy for you,” Nina said, squeezing Charlotte’s hand.

Charlotte laughed and wanted to tell her not to get ahead of herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Instead, she said, “Vincent thinks we should try to sell the Lodge.”

This caught Addison and Nina off guard. Nina’s face paled.

“What do you think about that?” Nina asked.

Charlotte pondered for a moment. “I think it’s a piece of our family history. I don’t want to get rid of it.”

Nina nodded furiously, as though that was exactly what she’d wanted to say.

“But it makes me think that we should stop ignoring it,” Charlotte went on delicately. “I mean, it’s just sitting out there, slowly rotting. It isn’t in bad shape.”

“What are you saying?” Nina asked.

“Do you want to open it up?” Addison gasped, her eyes bugging out.

Charlotte felt flustered. “I don’t think we have the money to refurbish it the way it needs.”

They sat in stunned silence for a moment, realizing what an enormous task that would be.

“But I want to make a documentary about it, I think,” Charlotte said, trying to regain excitement.

“It’s related to various projects I’ve begun in the past—projects about my real father, about my mother, about the Whitmore family at large.

Obviously, something is rotten about our shared history, something that forced our family to the four winds.

Maybe if I start asking the right questions, if I start digging around, we can get to the core of it. ”

“And maybe we can find Seth. I mean, Jack,” Addison said, her eyes illuminated.

Charlotte nodded. Finding Jack was part of her vision, too. Make him explain himself.

Oh, but she missed him so much. She missed him down to her bones.