Page 9 of The White Oak Lodge

They sat across from one another, listening to the server as he listed off the specials for the evening and recommended the very best wine pairings. Since dating Daniel, Nina had been to perhaps fifty restaurants like this, swanky places where the menu didn’t list the prices and people wore too much white, and they reminded her always of the restaurant attached to the White Oak Lodge. She ordered a cocktail and couldn’t look at Daniel as he spoke about what he wanted to do tomorrow: rent a sailboat and go around the island. She knew he wanted to get a better look at the White Oak Lodge, and she knew the very best vantage point was from the water. She also knew that when she woke up tomorrow, she would say she had the worst of all migraines, that he could go out on the boat if he wanted to, but that she was going to stay inside and rest.

Was this how her marriage would always go?

On her wedding day, she’d half expected cold feet. She’d expected to feelwait, is this really what I want?But that hadn’t come, not till now, seated here with her burnt orange cocktail, listening to Daniel ask what seemed like his fifteenth question about how they cooked the sea bass. Suddenly, Nina was on her feet. The server looked perturbed. “May I help you with something, madam?”

“I need to dip into the ladies’ room,” she said, not bothering to put on a smile. “Daniel, order me whatever you think is good. I’ll be right back.”

The server said, “Wow, your wife trusts you a lot!”

As Nina cut through the restaurant, she thought she heard Daniel say something about how difficult it was to travel as a newly married couple. “We don’t really know each other well yet.”

Nina’s stomach felt twisted.

When she reached the bathroom, she tried the door and found it was a single and currently in use. She hung back in theshadows of the hallway, listening to the humming conversation of the restaurant’s many guests. There were three glass walls between where she stood and where Daniel sat, still talking to the server, and it made Daniel appear like he was deep underwater. Of course, the walls around the bathroom itself were mercifully not see-through, and they allowed the owner, the decorator, or whoever to hang a number of photographs, presumably of friends or family or regulars, who made Nantucket their home. There were sailing photographs that seemed to feature the owners at the head table, dining over an immaculate feast, ones of birthday parties, housewarmings, and Fourth of July barbecues. Whoever owned this restaurant was truly loved. Nina’s heart panged.

That was when she saw a familiar face.

But it couldn’t be.

About twelve people were seated on the glistening sands in one of the middle photographs, drinking beers and picnicking. Most of them looked to be in their twenties, with flat stomachs, frothing hair, and slim sunglasses fit for what looked like the early 2000s. Nina took a small step forward to assess it further and realized she’d been right about the sunglasses. There was a time stamp in the corner that read: JULY 7, 2002. She remembered that with digital cameras, it had been common back then to record the dates and even times of photographs, something that wasn’t necessary with the advent of cell phones.

The face she recognized was off to the right in the photograph, a handsome black-haired and suntanned man in his early twenties who seemed in the middle of cackling over something. In his left hand was a beer, and beside him was a sensational-looking blonde, a woman like Marilyn Monroe in her early years. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think that was Jack. But that was impossible. Her brother Jack had died in the fire—a fire that had happened a full four years beforethis photograph was taken. Still, her brain felt fizzy. Everything about the man in the photograph seemed to evoke Jack as he’d once been: the freedom and the hilarity and the way he’d had with women. Everyone in the world loved Jack.

When Nina had learned of Jack’s death, she’d been at the police station and picked up a glass from the counter and thrown it to shatter against the wall. Great-Aunt Genevieve had hissed and said,“Get a hold of yourself!”But how could she have? Her brilliant brother was gone.

Nina didn’t know what to make of the photograph. When the older woman exited the bathroom, Nina waited for her to disappear on the other side of the glass wall and took the photograph of would-be Jack with her into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She felt insane. But at the same time, she knew she couldn’t let the photograph remain here at the restaurant. She had to take it with her.

It was her anthropological sensibilities, she told herself. But really, she knew it was her selfishness. It was her outrageous ability to believe in something else, something beyond reason. She knew in her heart of hearts that Jack had died on July 4th, 1998. Yet here, in another reality in 2002, he sat on a bright and blue-skied afternoon. Not wanting to steal the frame, she removed the photograph and slipped it safely into her purse, then shoved the frame behind the toilet and retreated to the table. As she sat down, Daniel gave her an injured smile and reached for her hand.

“I’m sorry about today,” he said.

Nina had the sensation that he was speaking a language she didn’t know.

“I wasn’t on my best behavior,” he said. “I want to start over.”

Nina considered what he’d say if she told him about the photograph. Maybe it was something he’d want to get to thebottom of. Perhaps he’d wanted to struggle through the weight of what it meant together. Or maybe he’d call her crazy.

It was better to keep it to herself.

Nina flicked the napkin over her thighs and offered Daniel a dazzling smile, one not unlike Jack’s. “Being here has been really emotional for me,” she said.

“And maybe that’s why it’s good we came,” Daniel said. “You need to get over it so we can start our life together. Exposure therapy, or something like that.”

Nina wanted to point out all the ways he’d wronged her since they’d left Princeton. But tonight, surrounded by all these people, with a stolen photograph tucked in her purse, she was far too intelligent to put herself through something like that. It would only acknowledge the space suddenly growing between them. It would only point to his mother’s belief that he should have married someone else, someone in their social circle. Someone who wasn’t going after Daniel’s position as an anthropology professor. Someone who would be a quiet and good-natured wife and mother.

Marriage was a dance with specific steps. It was time to learn them.

Daniel touched her hand and gazed into her eyes. “Let’s enjoy the rest of our time here,” he said softly, tenderly. “I promise. No more Whitmore talk.”

Nina breathed and swept her fingers through his. “No more Whitmore talk.”

She promised herself she would never return to Nantucket again.

Chapter Five

Amos

June 2025

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