Page 20 of Nantucket Reflections
“It’s too busy,” she told him. “And I don’t want to get anyone else sick.”
“Let me in,” Federico said. “If you have it, then I have it too. There’s no use staying in there alone.”
Alessandra opened the door and immediately fell into Federico’s arms, shaking violently. They’d lost too many people, both in their community and in greater Italy, and it didn’t feel fair that it had come for them next. Selfishly, she hated that this heinous disease had also affected her CAT career, that people were going to maybe make a mockery of what she’d done last night.
“Let’s hang tight and see,” Federico told her, kissing her brow.
ChapterEleven
End of June 2025
Paris and Positano
The night after they met Gregor for the first time, Julia found herself awake with jet lag and a million phone calls to make. There was no end to this nightmare, no end to the slog of fear and trying to mend this, a cycle that was only met with fear again. None the wiser, Charlie was fast asleep in bed, dreaming Parisian dreams, dreaming of tomorrow’s croissant and walking through the city streets. Julia was grateful. At least Charlie’s health, both mental and otherwise, was something she didn’t have to worry about.
First up was a call to the local Nantucket police about the potential Eastern European men who may or may not have taken Lucia and thrown her in the back of their car. The more that Julia reflected on that scene, the stranger it became. But frustratingly, the men and Lucia hadn’t been seen or heard from. It meant they were either on Nantucket or anywhere else in the world, which wasn’t helpful in the slightest. Julia thanked the cop and hung up, her stomach thrashing.
After that, she called Nicole about the newest strategy for their publishing house PR, which sounded grim and uncreative and just as lost as Julia felt. Nicole’s idea was to continue answering questions, follow the lead of the public, and keep an open mind about their thoughts.
“But the public doesn’t know anything for sure,” Julia reminded her, still frustrated. “I’m the one who double- and triple-checked so much of what Lucia wrote in her memoir. I’m literally on the front lines here, with the most information, besides maybe Lucia or CAT herself. And they’re speculating based on a few videos?”
“So you’re saying you think Lucia is maybe CAT now?” Nicole asked, her face dumbfounded on the screen.
“I don’t know. I’m saying that none of us know, but that I know more than the people who are posting on social media about it. I think,” Julia said, pulling at her hair.
“Do you think this is some elaborate prank by CAT herself?” Nicole suggested, not for the first time. They really were running in circles. “Maybe it’s going to make her even more money because yet another copycat tried to ruin her. Maybe Lucia is on CAT’s payroll.”
“None of that helps us either,” Julia said, although she wondered what Gregor would say about that. When she hung up with Nicole, she decided to text him about it, and he responded five minutes later.
GREGOR: It would certainly bring a greater mystique to the CAT brand, but I can’t imagine that CAT herself would arrive at that idea. Maybe she’s working with a brand strategist? Oh, it hurts me to say it! I always liked how pure and non-corporate she seemed. (Although I know she ended up taking money from various companies. Artists have to eat! Ha ha.)
JULIA: It hurts me, too. I want to think CAT is better than whatever this scheme is. But if she’s all that pure, then Lucia Colombo can’t have anything to do with her. Lucia is sort of monstrous. I hate to say it.
GREGOR: It’s certainly a pickle you’ve gotten yourself involved in.
JULIA: A pickle is a nice way of saying it.
Julia passed along Gregor’s thoughts to Nicole, who didn’t appreciate them and said they didn’t help at all. Julia understood Nicole’s stress levels and decided not to take anything she said personally. Her panic was similar.
“But at least you’re in Paris,” Julia’s mother, Greta, said on the phone a few minutes later. “Isn’t it divine? Tell me everything you’ve eaten so far. Tell me, do you remember the French we used to speak when you were little?”
“I remember a little,” Julia said, which was mostly a lie, but she wanted to make her mother happy. Wanted to make her think she’d given her tremendous tools for this situation.
“I wanted you kids to be worldly,” Greta said. “I wanted you to know there was so much out there to discover. And look at all of you! All four of my children and all of my grandchildren make me proud.”
Julia smiled into the phone, grateful that at least one person in her life was happy right now. Greta pestered her for information about what else she was going to do while she was in Paris and when she thought she might come home.
“I don’t know,” Julia admitted to the last question. “We might have to keep following CAT’s trail. I don’t want to come back to Nantucket empty-handed, so to speak. I want to have a lead so we can approach this Lucia situation head-on.”
“Darling, people have been looking for CAT for years,” Greta reminded her.
It meant that if other, more professional people couldn’t find CAT, why did Julia think she could? But Julia had a leg up on them, she explained to her mother. “I read Lucia’s memoir.”
“But that might be a fake, honey.”
“Not all of it can be,” Julia said, convinced of it. “Through the process of editing it, too much of it was verifiable. And it really feels like Lucia at least knows CAT, even if she isn’t CAT.”
“Why do you think that?” Greta asked, her voice dripping with doubt.
