Page 3 of Before the Storm

Josie shrugged and led Tara up the steps to her apartment. Tara was handling three bags at once, one slung over her shoulder, and she nearly tumbled back down the stairs.That would really add insult to injury, she thought.Try not to fall down the stairs!

Josie unlocked the door to reveal her little apartment: a living room, a kitchen, a kitchen table, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. It was a far cry from the large beachside house they’d been raised in. But it was all theirs.

“I just can’t stand it,” Tara said after they threw all her suitcases into her new bedroom and collapsed on the sofa with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Nantucket needs the Christmas Festival. It feels illegal.”

Josie laughed and handed her a full glass of wine. “Why don’t you plan it?”

Tara gaped at her. It was December tenth, and usually, the festival was in full swing by now. “People would laugh me out of town,” she said. She put the glass of wine down and tried to figure out a way to pour it down the sink when Josie wasn’t looking.

“Would they? I think they’d just see their beloved Tara Steiner trying to do something good around here,” Josie said. “People love you, Tara. They’ll say yes to whatever you ask.”

Tara squinted at her sister, trying to figure out if she was making fun of her.

“I’ll help you, I guess,” Josie said, rolling her eyes into a smile.

Tara laughed. “You guess?”

“I’m just thrilled to have you back,” Josie offered, her voice quiet.

Tara’s smile twisted. For a moment, she thought she was going to burst into tears.

It was their first night as roommates, and they did just what twentysomething roommates are supposed to do—they made each other laugh, they listened to music until their neighbors knocked on the wall between their apartments to tell them to quiet down, they told secrets, and they promised to protect each other. Josie didn’t seem to notice that Tara wasn’t drinking wine. Tara poured wine from her glass into Josie’s when Josie wasn’t looking, and Josie happily drank it.

When Tara fell asleep that night, she felt comforted. She felt at peace.

And when she woke up in the morning, her best friend was in the kitchen, pouring her a mug of coffee—a mug of coffee she drank only half of, of course.

What could be better than this life?

The Christmas Festival shouldn’t have come together as quickly as it did. But it was just as Josie suggested. When Tara asked people around Nantucket for help throwing the festival together, they agreed without thinking about it. She was beloved. And by December seventeenth—just a week after she got home—the Christmas Festival was all set up. Carolers stood on a little stage, singing Christmas songs as Nantucketers drank mulled wine and played festival games and ate decadent food, like chili and burgers and clam chowder and about a thousand kinds of desserts. Snow fell, soft and delicate, melting on the cheeks and tongues of Nantucket children. Tara watched them from the sidewalk, all bundled up in a hat and coat and gloves, and she thought,I’m giving back to my community. I’m helping Nantucket children make new memories. This feels better than all two and a half years of college ever did.

It felt like a miracle.

“There she is, Bob!”

Tara turned to find her mother and father churning through the crowd to get to her. Her mother, Cindy, was a pretty woman in her forties who always wore red lipstick and a smart-looking peacoat. Her father, Bob, was nearly six-five and domineering and quiet. But when he saw Tara, an enormous smile broke out on his face.

“There she is! The star of the show,” Bob exclaimed.

“It’s wonderful, honey,” Cindy said, hugging her. “I can’t believe you put all this together yourself.”

“Josie helped a lot,” Tara said.

Her father’s cheek twitched, but he said nothing.

Tara decided that she needed to force her father to talk about Josie more in the months to come. She needed him to acknowledge Josie. She needed to teach him to love his eldest daughter.

But there would be time for that. First, I’d handle the Christmas Festival. Next, I’d get to the rest of our lives.

“We’re going to meet Frank and Rhonda by the mulled wine stand,” Cindy said. “But come find us before the Christmas Queen performance, okay?”

“Of course!”

“You should be named Christmas Queen,” her father said. “Write your name in! You’re in charge here, after all!”

Tara laughed. “That’s not how it works, Daddy.”

“You’re prettier than any other girl around here!” Bob said.

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