Page 8 of Nantucket Longing

Madeline shook her head.“I don’t know how.”

“Really?It looks to me like you’re at home with a piano.”

Madeline shook her head and stared at the ground.She knew the woman was just being nice.

When Madeline realized the woman wasn’t going to leave, she forced her head up, searching her mind for an excuse, anything to get this woman off her back.But the woman had reached into her wallet and pulled out a card that read: THE COPPERFIELD HOUSE - ARTIST RESIDENCY with an email, a phone number, and a drawing of a gorgeous Victorian home.Madeline’s heart thudded.Unable to stop herself, she took the card and gazed at the picture.

“I run a residency in Nantucket Island,” the woman said.“We offer space to think, to grow as an artist, to create.We’re always looking for young talent.”

Madeline shook her head again.“I don’t make anything.I’m just a server.”

“Is that so?”The woman’s eyes twinkled.She stuck out her hand and said, “I’m Greta, by the way.Greta Copperfield.”

“I’m Madeline.”

Madeline shook the woman’s lotioned hand and felt lightweight and strange.

“I’m in LA for another few days,” Greta said.“You can use that phone number to text me.Let’s get together for coffee.I can tell you more about The Copperfield House, and you can tell me more about your artistic mission.”

“Like I said, I don’t have one,” Madeline said.

Greta winked.“Everyone does.”

Madeline hurried to the bathroom, where she thought she was going to be sick.She remained in the stall for nearly a half hour, alternating between crying and feeling so dizzy that she had to hang her head between her knees.When she left the bathroom, she discovered that Greta Copperfield had paid for her wine and left the bar.She’d left a note with the bartender for Madeline that read: We should talk - Greta.

Madeline didn’t think she would contact Greta.But that night, delirious from the wine and the piano incident, Madeline had a strange dream about Nantucket Island.In the dream, she was running down a long, golden beach, her red hair flipping out behind her, her legs screaming.In the far distance was her mother, waiting for her on a dock, her hand raised as she waved and waved to her.In the dream, Madeline screamed, “Mom!Wait for me!”And then she woke up.

Before she contacted Greta, Madeline googled her and learned everything she could about the Copperfield family, their sordid past, and their residency.A number of prestigious artists, writers, filmmakers, and musicians had walked the grand halls of that beautiful Victorian.Could she number herself among them?Why did Greta want her to?Did she really think I was worthy of all of this?Miraculously, she saw that not everyone had to pay the residency fees, that there were opportunities for scholarships, and that the state of Massachusetts often subsidized The Copperfield House to “maintain the artistic journey of one of Nantucket’s favorite families.”It seemed that, now that Bernard was fully cleared of all charges, the state of Massachusetts wanted to make up for all they’d put the family through.

Greta suggested they meet at a coffee shop not far from where Madeline lived with her messy roommates.Madeline put on her nicest dress and, on the walk there, practiced answering questions in her head.She was reminded of practicing the piano, how she’d gone over and over the same passages thousands of times.But real life wasn’t like that.It was a constant performance that, it seemed, she was doomed to fail.

Greta was dressed in brown linen, her hair flowing gently to her shoulders.She greeted Madeline with a handshake and bought them each matcha lattes and croissants, explaining that she was still looking for “the best croissant” in Los Angeles but had found nothing that came close to Parisian fare.Greta then explained that she’d met her husband in Paris and they’d fallen back in love in the City of Light, remembering everything that had unfolded between them and deciding to nourish it.Madeline felt swept up in the story of Greta and realized that she would never have a romance like this.She was too unlucky.She was too lost.

“I imagine you’ve looked up The Copperfield House?”Greta asked.

Madeline nodded.“But again, I don’t know what I would do there.I don’t have an art right now.”

“But you did.”

Madeline furrowed her brow.“I mean, sort of.”

Greta folded her lips.“Is anything keeping you in LA?”

“What?No.I hate LA.”

Greta laughed.“I’m not exactly keen on it, either.But tell me.Why do you stay?”

“It was where I came when my life fell apart,” Madeline answered honestly.“I figured, when I lost everything, I would just go as far west as I could and find the sunlight.I decided I didn’t want to be cold and lonely anymore.So now, I’m hot and lonely.”Madeline tried to laugh, but she thought she might cry again, so she bit her tongue.

“Did you envision something else for yourself out here?”Greta asked.

“Maybe.I mean, who doesn’t want to work in Hollywood?”

Greta nodded.“Did you try?”

“No.I mean, I was going to take an acting class, but I didn’t have enough money,” Madeline said.“I never have enough money.And five years have gone by already.I’m twenty-two, but I feel, like, twice my age.I feel like my life is over.I thought about going somewhere cheaper, of course.But I’m terrified of picking back up and starting over again.When does it end?”

Greta’s eyes echoed her joy, her peace.Madeline wished she could bottle that feeling and drink it for herself.

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