Page 21 of Nantucket Longing

Madeline looked down at her feet.

“I want you to know,” Greta said, “that I have a good feeling about this.Your life is about to begin in Paris, Madeline.I’ve known since I first saw you in Los Angeles that you’re meant for brilliant things.”

Madeline couldn’t look at her.She felt as though she were speeding down a tunnel without any sign of stopping.

Before she could stop herself, she heard herself ask, “But what about Henry?”

As soon as she said it, her heart felt crumpled up.She could feel Greta’s annoyance beaming off her in waves.

Madeline sniffed and tried to laugh at herself.“I’m sorry.I just, you know, really feel something.”Something?That was the understatement of the century.

Greta touched Madeline’s shoulder and forced Madeline’s eyes to hers.“I know you love each other, honey.”Her voice was far softer than Madeline had imagined it would be.

“But you don’t think love is enough?”Madeline asked.

Greta raised her shoulders.“It’s not that.Love is a beautiful thing.But you and Henry are gifted young people with a lifetime ahead of you.It would be terrible to hold yourselves back for something that amounts to little more than a summer romance.”

Madeline’s heart stung with sorrow.“It was so much more than a summer romance.”

Greta nodded urgently.“I know, honey.I do.”

Madeline’s legs were shaking so much that her knees clacked together.

“You’ve spoken often, I guess?Since he left?”Greta asked.

Madeline considered lying.She considered telling Greta that she and Henry had found time to talk to one another every single day for an hour or more.But the truth was that Henry was often still at work by the time Madeline was exhausted and in bed.When she tried calling him in the morning, he was often already awake, going over the scenes for that day or heading out for a run, which, he said, was “the only way to stay sane in that industry.”

“It’s been difficult,” Madeline admitted.

Greta nodded in understanding.Her eyes lit up with the lightning outside.

“That’s why you have to do your thing.You can’t wait around here or go out to LA and wait around there for him to get off work.It wouldn’t just be a waste of your talent.It would be a waste of your life.”

Madeline’s chest was tight.She repeated, “We love each other.”She was sure it hadn’t changed.She knew it in her bones.

But Greta only said, “If it’s meant to be, it will happen.If it isn’t, that doesn’t mean you won’t always be welcome here at The Copperfield House.You’re a member of the family, Madeline.I want you to remember that.”

The following morning, Bernard and Greta loaded Madeline’s single suitcase into the back of their BMW and drove her to the ferry.In the back seat, Madeline turned all the way around and gazed at The Copperfield House until the car turned out of sight.The old Victorian burned in the back of her eyelids, and she wept quietly until they drove on the ferry and got out to enjoy coffee on the top deck.It was a glorious morning, just shy of seventy degrees, and seagulls swooped overhead, jovial and squawking.It wasn’t a surprise that Bernard and Madeline knew a few people on the ferry, and as they gossiped with them, Madeline watched the island recede into the horizon line and fade to a mere shadow.At Hyannis Port, they drove out of the ferry and off to the airport, where Bernard and Greta hugged Madeline as though she were the granddaughter they’d never had.

“I told David to send recordings of all of your performances,” Bernard said.“We don’t want to miss anything.”

“And we’ll be in Paris in December to see your final shows and take you home,” Greta reminded her.

Madeline felt on the verge of a breakdown.She hadn’t anticipated that saying goodbye to Bernard and Greta would feel like a metal rod through her chest.She hugged them each twice, trying to memorize their faces, and wheeled her suitcase into the lobby, where people whipped around, flailing to look at the departures board and saying goodbye to their loved ones.Madeline dropped off her suitcase and watched the airport employee scrutinize her passport to such a degree that she half expected her to say,Madeline Willis?Is that really your name?The truth was, Madeline felt she’d lost her identity that day she’d auditioned for Juilliard, and she’d never really gotten it back.Maybe it awaited her in Paris.

ChapterTwelve

Madeline

September 2025

The Paris apartment in the eleventh arrondissement was three blocks from the jazz bar where Madeline was set to perform five nights per week at a rate of ten thousand euros a month.Although Madeline hadn’t made money from piano in years, she knew making that much as a relatively newcomer musician was unheard of and still more proof of how good it was to know Bernard and Greta Copperfield and their many connections.Madeline arrived at the new apartment at seven thirty in the morning the day after she’d left Boston, and her body thrummed with jet lag and excitement.David’s friend René was the apartment owner and was waiting for her with keys and fresh croissants.Because there was no elevator, René hauled Madeline’s suitcase up to the third floor and gave her a brief tour of the kitchen, bathroom, music room, and bedroom.The music room had only an upright piano, but it was in tune and enough for at-home practice.Madeline already knew she wouldn’t spend as much time at that piano as she had the other pianos in her life.Improvisation required practice, of course, but never as much as the classical world.And she’d decided to start living her life rather than cooping herself up inside and waiting for it to happen.She hoped it would work.She hoped engaging with the beautiful things in the world would invigorate her improvisation.

A few minutes after René left, Madeline lay strewn across her new bed and considered how to spend her first day before her welcome dinner later tonight.Before she could put together a coherent thought, her phone buzzed beside her, and she reached for it to find Henry’s name and face on her screen.She answered it immediately.“Henry!Hi!What time is it there?”she cried.

Henry cackled.“It’s eleven at night in California!”

“I’m speaking with the past,” Madeline teased, rolling onto her stomach.“How is that possible?”

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