Page 36 of Nantucket Reflections
“You really can stay for dinner,” Sophia said, using a tone that meant Julia was no longer welcome.
“No. I couldn’t intrude like this,” Julia said. She raised her chin and went on. “Your granddaughter is really a sensational painter. I’ve been thinking about that piece of hers all day. You said she’s studying somewhere?”
“She’s in London,” Marius said.
If Julia wasn’t mistaken, she was pretty sure Sophia cast her husband a look of annoyance. Perhaps she didn’t want her granddaughter’s location to be revealed, especially not to a stranger. Julia could understand that. She was a mother.
“I would really like to talk to your granddaughter about her work,” Julia said. “I run a publishing house back in the United States, and we’re always looking for illustrators. Do you have an email I could contact her with?”
“I said already that I don’t think she should stay in the art world,” Sophia said, her nostrils flared.
“She has a singular talent,” Julia pressed.
“She does,” Sophia agreed in a way that meantso what?
Suddenly, Marius set down his fork with a clatter and clasped his hands together. “What if this is what Elena needs, Sophia?” he said, speaking to his wife in a clear and crisp English. “What if this is the big break that Federico and Alessandra never got?”
Julia searched Sophia’s face for some understanding of what Marius was saying. It seemed clear that it was affecting, but Julia could hardly guess why. Family drama was as dense as a swamp.
Sophia huffed and turned on her heel to find a little address book on a nearby table, which she opened to show the contact details for Elena, who, it seemed, lived in London and attended the Royal College of Art.
“Like her mother and father did,” Marius said proudly, returning his attention to his pasta. “But I think she’s much better than her father at art. Who needs another pot? Another bowl? In Italy, we have enough of those.”
Sophia stifled a laugh behind her hand and looked at Alessandra. “We love Federico’s work,” she said, speaking, obviously, of their son-in-law. “But as you can see, it’s what he’s gifted us for just about every birthday and holiday since he first started dating our daughter. Enough is enough!”
Julia joined her in confused laughter and looked around the little bed-and-breakfast, which was filled with pots and figurines, all of them with a singular flair that meant they were all made by the same artist, this Federico.
“You’ll know what it’s like when your children get married,” Sophia said. “You love their partners, but it’s never the same.”
“It’s not even close,” Marius agreed.
Julia’s heart softened. She felt they’d let her deeper into their world, but couldn’t fathom why. Before Sophia changed her mind, she took photographs of Elena’s email address and phone number and thanked Sophia and Marius profusely. She even kissed Sophia on the cheek, sensing that it was something you were meant to do in this culture. It was a sign of respect. When she fled the bed-and-breakfast, she ran all the way back to the hotel, her heart thudding. Maybe Sophia and Marius didn’t know who CAT was. But Elena did. And Elena was just north—making art and hiding her murals behind someone else’s name.
ChapterNineteen
July 2025
London, England
Elena’s apartment was located in the trendy London district of Shoreditch, not far from a pub called The Brazen Squirrel and a pizza-by-the-slice place that advertised two-pound pieces. Julia and Charlie got out of the cab and paid the driver, who reminded them that in England, they drive on the other side of the road than they’re used to. “Be safe out there,” he told them with a wink.
Julia and Charlie were extra careful when they crossed the street to get to Elena’s, holding hands as they drew closer.
“Why does she think we’re coming again?” Charlie asked, uncertainty in his voice.
“Because I own a publishing house,” Julia said. “We want illustrators.”
“Okay. And who am I?” Charlie asked.
Julia stopped short before she rang the buzzer up to the third-story flat, grimacing. “You’re my husband and partner in all things,” she said with a funny laugh.
Before they went up, he kissed her and reminded her that everything would be okay, no matter what. Even if Elena didn’t know CAT’s identity, even if all of this was a lark. Julia tried to smile and led the charge up the stairs, huffing slightly before they reached the open door.
When they entered, a young girl called from within, telling them to take off their shoes and join her. “I’ve just put some tea on!” she called in an Italian-British accent.
Julia was surprised at the state of the apartment. Marius and Sophia’s lives seemed modest enough, with that beautiful but homey bed-and-breakfast and those pasta dishes. But Elena’s apartment was almost fancy, with its gleaming mahogany floors and ornate decor. On the phone, Julia had been surprised to learn that Elena was barely eighteen, that she’d left home earlier than all her classmates, and initially lived with an aunt here in London before she’d been allowed to move into a place by herself. Eighteen felt insanely young.
But when Elena greeted them with a warm smile in the hallway, beckoning them to the living room, Julia remembered that she and Charlie had left home when they were Elena’s age. They’d plunged into the world headfirst. Maybe Elena would see something of that in Julia (although Julia guessed she wouldn’t, given the fact that, to Elena, Julia probably looked quite old).
