Elin Hilderbrand - Winter Storms

Ava raises her arms and imagines for a moment that she is Arthur Fiedler conducting the Boston Pops. Ha! That’s funny enough that Ava nearly breaks into a grin. D’laney Rodenbough still has her recorder swaddled in a striped kneesock, but Ava can’t wait for D’laney. It’s too hot and everyone wants to get out of there.

You fill up my senses…

The song is over in two minutes and thirty-six seconds and as Ava zips her hands over her head, like she’s closing up the school year and all the laughter, learning, rule-breaking, and scolding that went with it, she sees, standing by the open back door, the tall, authoritative figure of the assistant principal, Scott Skyler, and, next to him, Roxanne Oliveria.

The assembled crowd applauds. Ava takes a shallow bow. The person inside Ava shakes her head in disgust. What is Mz. Ohhhhhh doing here?

Ava’s best friend, Shelby, the school librarian, grabs Ava’s arm as they’re walking out of the gym. “She’s shameless.”

“I’m sure he invited her,” Ava says.

“Only to make you jealous,” Shelby says.

Ava thinks that this is probably true.

Somehow, Scott and Mz. Ohhhhhh have teleported themselves from the back door of the gym to just outside the main office, where they are jointly waving good-bye to the students, like Mr. and Mrs. America on a parade float. Ava is so perplexed-what is Roxanne doing here?-that she allows herself to be carried along on a wave of students giddy with escape.

She gets close enough that Roxanne can grab Ava’s arm. “Congratulations!” she says.

“Thanks?” Ava says.

“This is my favorite day of the year,” Roxanne says.

Ava makes a face. Roxanne teaches high school English. The high school got out last week. For the past seven days, Roxanne has been reading the new Nancy Thayer novel and catching up on Netflix.

Whatever, Ava thinks. She wants to get away, but there are kids everywhere. Scott is involved in high-fiving all of the children from his special advisory group, kids who were considered “at risk” at the beginning of the year but who are now contributing citizens.

“… Tuscany?” Roxanne says.

Ava looks at her, alarmed. Is Roxanne still talking to her?

“I’m sorry?” Ava says.

“Did Scott tell you he’s taking me to Tuscany?” Roxanne says. “We’ve rented a villa.”

Ava is too blindsided to bluff. “No,” she says. “He did not tell me that.”

“We leave tonight,” Roxanne says.

Ava collects her things from her room. The previous year on the last day of school, she and Scott had stopped at Henry’s Jr. for sandwiches and Hatch’s for beer and then had driven Ava’s Jeep up to Great Point, where they stayed until the sun went down.

Tuscany. A villa.

Ava had had drinks with Scott on Saturday night at the Jetties. Drinks turned into a dozen oysters at the bar, which turned into dinner. Marshall sat them at the table he called Romance No. 1, set apart from all the other tables and lit only by candles. They ordered a crisp white wine and the lobster pizza and they listened to the guitar player do a pretty creative acoustic version of “Paradise by the Dashboard Light.” Ava went back to Scott’s place afterward and then in the morning, they’d gone to the Downyflake for breakfast, where they saw half the school faculty. Ava told Scott how excited she was to work with Kevin at Quinns’ on the Beach-four days a week, eleven to five.

Scott had kissed Ava and said, “But I’ll never see you.”

“You can come visit,” Ava said. “I’ll make you a frappe.”

Scott had not said word one about taking Roxanne to Tuscany or renting a villa.

Ava bristles. Scott has never taken Ava anywhere except to Tuckernuck, which is a whopping half a mile from Madaket Harbor by boat. They had stayed two nights in the old schoolhouse, which was appropriate for two educators. The schoolhouse was home to field mice and spiders, and Ava had to relieve herself in a bucket. It was not a villa in Tuscany.

She considers sending Scott a text-but what would she say? That she’s hurt? Obviously, he realizes this. That he should have told Ava himself instead of letting Roxanne drop the news like a dirty bomb? Obviously, he realizes this as well. Next, Ava considers sending Shelby a text, but Shelby has a husband and a cute baby boy waiting for her at home. She claims she loves hearing about the drama in Ava’s life, but she’s lying.

Ava slogs through the heat out to the parking lot. Silence will be her weapon of choice, she decides. Scott can go to Tuscany tomorrow, he can have fun dancing Roxanne around their villa to “Brown-Eyed Girl,” Ava doesn’t care. She won’t call, she won’t text. She will be a stone wall of impenetrable silence, a fortress of noncommunication.

Then Ava finds a dozen pale pink roses lying across the front seat of her Jeep. Her heart lifts briefly-Scott? There’s a note on top: Congrats, babe! Meet me on the Straight Wharf tonight at 7:30 sharp. Love, N.

Nathaniel.

Ava can’t help herself; she feels let down. She wonders if this means she’s any closer to solving her quandary. Does she really love Scott? Or is it a false construct-she loves Scott only because Scott is taking Roxanne to Tuscany?

She lifts the roses and inhales. She stands in the parking lot sniffing her lavish bouquet a little longer than she might have normally, hoping that Scott will come out and see her. His Explorer is three cars away from her car in the parking lot. Has Scott ever expressed any interest in going to Italy? Africa, yes, the Peace Corps-a lifelong dream. But Italy? Scott doesn’t even like Italian food!

After another few seconds, Ava feels like an idiot. She tosses the roses onto the passenger seat and drives home to the inn.

At home, there is a bottle of Veuve Clicquot sitting on ice on the kitchen counter.

For me? she wonders. That doesn’t seem right. Ava’s family is wonderful and nurturing, but would anyone have remembered that it was her last day of school and chosen to celebrate it?

Mitzi and Kelley are both in the kitchen. Mitzi is reaching for the champagne flutes and Kelley is pulling the blueberry Brie out of the oven. Kelley never serves his blueberry Brie to the guests; it’s strictly a family treat. But what’s the occasion?

“Hey,” Ava says, “I’m home.”

“Just in time,” Kelley says. He sets the Brie on the counter and Ava gazes at it longingly.

“What’s going on?” she asks, and then her eyes bulge. Have they found Bart?

“Your brother,” Kelley says.

Ava starts to shake. Her chest constricts. She has imagined Bart’s return every day since he went missing. She’s imagined the instant she hears the news; she’s imagined her wondrous relief, the anxiety being lifted off her shoulders by a host of angels. But no, no, she thinks-Mitzi isn’t emotional enough. If it were Bart, Mitzi would be on her knees, weeping.

“My brother?” Ava says.

“Patrick,” Kelley says. “He got out of jail this morning.”

“Right,” Ava says. In a side pocket of her mind, she’d known this. “Is he here?”

“No,” Mitzi says. “He’s at home with Jennifer and the kids. But we decided to celebrate anyway.”

Ava nods and accepts a champagne flute. She feels a twinge of irritation. They’re celebrating the brother who broke the law and ended up in jail while the brother who set out to defend the country’s freedom is-best-case scenario-imprisoned by enemy forces. But… okay? They’re the Quinns! Ava supposes she should just drink her champagne, eat the most delicious cheese on earth, and celebrate Patrick’s release.

Kevin, Isabelle, and Genevieve stroll into the kitchen. Kevin swings Genevieve between his legs.