Page 9 of Nantucket Gala

After all, that was the first laugh he’d ever used with her—when he’d been married to someone else.

Sophia’s pulse quickened. Her ears felt sharp. Slowly, she shifted across the deck, listening hard for Francis’s laugh. It came shortly after that—louder this time and coming from the opposite end of the pool. Hunched over so as to keep herself from being seen, she sped across the deck and popped up on her tiptoes to peer over. There it was, the top of Francis’s head. It was bobbing around as he laughed and spoke under his breath. But due to the angle and the height of the fence, Sophia struggled to see who he was talking to. Whoever it was, was too quiet for her to understand.Give yourself away, Francis, Sophia thought. Come on.

And then she thought,Wait, what am I saying?

Why did I want this?

Did I want to “catch” my husband in the act of cheating on me?

Sophia dropped down to the flats of her feet. Her head throbbed.

But again, the laughter came. Sophia couldn’t take it.It’s better to know, she thought.

Hurriedly, she clambered up the ladder to the slide. She felt like a maniac. From the top, her gaze soared over the fence and beamed on her husband. But again, he was in conversation with the hotelier and two members of the hotel staff. One of the staff members was a woman dressed in a maid uniform and about three decades older than Sophia. Sophia’s heartbeat slowed.

I’m losing it, she thought.

To add insult to injury, Francis spotted her on top of the slide and blew her a kiss. She caught it in her right hand and blushed.

“There she is,” Francis called. “My beautiful bride!”

The following afternoon, Sophia met Greta downtown to look at dresses for the gala. Greta looked worn-out but pretty, touching her dress’s collar nervously as they window-shopped. “Ella kept me up last night,” she explained softly. “Just a nightmare. But she’s five. I can’t believe I thought that part of my life was over. In a way, it’s lovely to be needed like that. It’s lovely to know you’re this single, powerful entity between your child and their nighttime fears.”

Sophia’s heart swelled. They paused in front of another shop to look at a mannequin in a long navy-blue dress. The mannequin’s sharp hips jutted out in a way that women’s bodies simply didn’t.

“It sounds like you love it,” Sophia offered because she didn’t know what else to say.

Greta arched her eyebrow. “Is that something you’ve ever considered for yourself?”

Sophia’s stomach twisted. It had been ages since she’d seen her own mother, which meant she hadn’t heard that question—do you want children?—echoed back to her in quite some time. Yet here it was, coming from Greta Copperfield of all people.

But she understood. Greta thought Sophia was just a wife. She didn’t understand the immensity of her mission.

She didn’t know everything Sophia brought to Francis’s life and career.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Sophia smiled wider, trying to shove the conversation aside.

But even as she said it, an image sprang up, one she’d had several other times, of Francis carrying their baby in his arms,Francis thanking their child and Sophia in his Oscars speech, Francis teaching their baby to use a camera for the first time.

Their child, Hollywood royalty.

Why wouldn’t she want that?

Greta sensed Sophia didn’t like the topic at hand and soon pulled her into the shop so Sophia could try on the navy-blue dress. Both knew it would look sensational on Sophia.

“You look like old Hollywood,” Greta said, tucking one of her curls behind her ear. Her eyes reflected Sophia back to her.

Sophia thought she saw a twinge of jealousy behind Greta’s happy exterior.

As women, we’re taught to covet what we don’t have, Sophia thought.

“I don’t want to shop for too long,” Sophia said, waving her hands. “I have better things to do.”

Greta laughed. “What kinds of things?”

Write. Read. Think, Sophia thought.

But instead, she said, “Francis has friends swarming the island already. They expect me at one cocktail party after the next.”

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