Elin Hilderbrand - The Beach Club

Gradually he became aware that everyone else was finishing up, and while no one stared at him, he got the distinct feeling they were waiting. He couldn’t shove Lacey’s ashes in his pants pocket now.

He squeezed his eyes shut. I love you , too , Gardner , he said. Thanks for being my friend .

He let Lacey go.

The group stood around Altar Rock a few moments longer in silence. Then Stephen Rook said something in sign language.

“It is a beautiful day,” Tiny repeated.

Everyone nodded in agreement, and drifted toward their cars. They were going back to Lacey’s cottage for some lunch. After everyone went home, Mack wanted to sit in Lacey’s armchair, in Lacey’s cottage-now his armchair in his cottage-and drink a stiff Dewar’s.

He climbed into the Jeep and Love and Vance piled into the back, even though Lacey’s ashes were no longer up front. The empty urn rolled around on the floor.

“I feel like your chauffeur,” Mack said.

“We want to be together,” Love said.

“Yeah,” Vance said. In the rearview mirror, Mack watched him put his arm around Love’s shoulders. Mack thought of Maribel, and he wondered if the feeling of being the stupidest person in the world would pass.

Mack led the caravan back down the hill into the thick of the moors. He was deep in thought-about Lacey, about his parents, and about Maribel-but he did notice when Love abruptly cleared her throat.

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

October 3

Dear S.B.T .,

I almost gave in to you. I almost let myself relinquish the hotel-not for the love of money-but out of frustration. My daughter is gone, that much is true. I don’t know if or when she’ll be back. Her disappearance has left me with a hole inside. After much thought, I realized that you, also, must have a hole inside-because what else drives one man’s desire for what another man has? I hope that you find something to fill the void within yourself-but it will not be my hotel .

I have indulged this correspondence mostly for fun-it has been a piece of detective work, trying to discover your identity. I suspected everyone from Mack to Therese to my old, good friend Lacey Gardner, God rest her soul. I suspected hotel guests and Beach Club members. But now I would guess you are someone else entirely-someone on the outside looking in-possibly even a trickster without a penny to your name. It doesn’t matter, S.B.T. I want to thank you for showing me how valuable the hotel is-worth much, much more than $25 million. You can’t put a price on love .

And so, with this letter, I officially end our correspondence. I wish you luck in whatever else you pursue .

Yours truly ,

Bill Elliott

Now that autumn had arrived, the front desk was a peaceful place to work. Love kept the woodstove fired throughout the day and a mug of warm herbal tea by the phone. She wore bulky sweaters and the fleeces she hadn’t touched since early May. Normally, wearing winter clothes and lighting fires got Love excited for winter. Love had a plane ticket back to Aspen leaving after the hotel closed on Columbus Day, and although she was going to use it, she wasn’t staying in Aspen. It was amazing, really, how her life had changed in less than six months. Not just the circumstances of her life but her way of thinking as well. Her whole life before coming to this island had been charted, graphed, strategized. What she realized now was that it was much more fun to let Life tell her how things were going to be.

Look at the way she announced her pregnancy. She’d resolved to keep it a secret, but then Lacey died, and although Love didn’t know Lacey that well, she felt something up on Altar Rock, some sort of movement, a rush, what Vance would call a “gut feeling” that Lacey’s death and her child’s conception were not unrelated. They were part of a cycle, they were part of how the big picture worked. And descending into the moors-the breathtaking green-red-gold moors of Nantucket, Love blurted out the news.

She stunned Vance and Mack, that was for sure. Vance’s expression remained unchanged for a split second, then his mouth opened and he laughed. Not a funny laugh, but a happy laugh. He hugged and kissed her and he laughed. He clapped Mack on the shoulder and Mack let go of the stick shift long enough to grab Vance’s hand.

“That’s terrific, you guys,” Mack said. “Man, is that great. Congratulations.”

“I’m going to be a dad,” Vance said. His voice was filled with awe, Love supposed, and fear maybe too, but no hesitancy. “I’m going to be a father.” The words didn’t frighten her at all; driving down the bumpy, sandy road she knew she loved Vance. He was totally wrong for her-ten years too young, too sullen and moody and utterly mysterious-and yet she loved him. She wanted to be with him, she wanted to know him and she wanted him to father her child, in every sense. Standing on Altar Rock, she felt her heart open up to include other people; she felt her life grow beyond just herself. This was a gift she had never expected from pregnancy, or wanted, but here it was. She was forty years old and she was growing up.

Love and Vance talked about what they were going to do. First they considered Vance moving to Aspen. He could get a job at the Hotel Jerome, or the Little Nell. After the baby was born in May, they could return to Nantucket. This plan had its appeal, but when Love thought about it, she realized she didn’t want to live in Aspen any longer. “Can we stay here?” she asked him. “Can we stay on Nantucket?”

He smiled. She wasn’t used to this-him smiling all the time now. “Sure,” he said.

Vance discovered that the house Mack and Maribel usually rented for the winter would be empty. So the house on Sunset Hill-the house Mack called the Palace-would be theirs. It was a house that fell out of the pages of Love’s book, Vintage Nantucket . The uneven wooden floors might throw her pregnant body off-balance, but the ceilings and the doorways were low enough that she had plenty of places to brace herself.

And so, they would stay on Nantucket, and this seemed the final piece of Love’s happiness. She was pregnant, she was in love with Vance, and over the past five months she had fallen in love with Nantucket. She was staying.

A couple wearning sweaters and gloves and hiking boots walked into the lobby, their cheeks bright with the cold. It was room 15, the Hendersons. They were young and laid back, the kind of couple Mack had promised would show up in the fall.

“We just walked the trails at Sanford Farm,” Mrs. Henderson said. She had gray eyes and thick black eyelashes. “This place is so gorgeous. It’s like make-believe. The houses in town, the shops, the restaurants. And then when you get out of town, the natural beauty is astounding.”

“The island is magical,” Love agreed.

Mr. Henderson approached the desk, one hand in his front jeans pocket, and one hand wrapped around a mug of coffee. “We’re schoolteachers in Vermont,” he said. “And Vermont is beautiful. But not like this. It must have something to do with being on an island, all that water, you know.” He looked at Love. “Do you live here?”

Here-Nantucket-the land of stars and clams, oxygen-rich air and romance?

“Yes,” she said.

Jem called his parents from the phone in Maribel’s apartment. He knew his family was waiting to hear from him. Waiting for him to come home.

His sister, Gwennie, answered the phone.

“It’s me,” he said. “Mom and Dad there?”

“That’s just great,” Gwennie said. “We don’t hear from you in six months, and then you can’t even say hello like a normal person? That’s just great, Jem.”