Page 93 of The Identicals
The door opens. It’s the doctor. She recognizes him instantly, from just that one glimpse of him at the reception. It’s more than that, though. It’s that Dr. Reed Zimmer recognizesher. His eyes fill with… well, the only word that comes to mind iswonder. And love.
“Harper?” he whispers. There is a catch in his voice. He can barely speak.
This, Tabitha thinks, is how she wants Franklin to look at her. This, she realizes, is how Franklindoeslook at her. But that doesn’t matter anymore.
“Hi,” Tabitha says. And she steps inside.
NANTUCKET
The Hy-Line ferry accommodates wheelchairs, and so this is how Eleanor Roxie-Frost travels back to Nantucket, accompanied by her sister, Flossie, and her longtime housekeeper, Felipa Ramirez. Eleanor doesn’t love everyone on the boat treating her like an invalid, but—although she can now take several steps by herself—she isn’t able to make it up the ramp unassisted, so a wheelchair is a necessary evil. Her consternation about her disability is overshadowed by her relief at getting home to Nantucket.
Boston has been her home all her life, but in the summertime, there is no place like this island.
How many of us remember the summer of 1968, when Eleanor first set foot on Nantucket? She was on her honeymoon with Billy Frost. The two of them were cruising Nantucket Sound in a fifty-foot Hatteras captained by a retired Cape Verdean fisherman named Barker. Barker had taken them to the Vineyard for three days, where Eleanor and Billy had stayed at the Katama Shores Motor Inn. Billy had rented a CJ-7 and driven them out to the nude beach. He had gone into the water without his trunks, but Eleanor kept her suit on, despite the other beachgoers looking at her likeshewas the odd duck. They had danced until the wee hours at the Dunes a Go Go, and it was quite fun, but Eleanor had felt altogether more at home once they got to Nantucket, where things were a bit more staid. They had a suite at Roberts House, amid the cobblestone streets; they walked two blocks each night to dine at the Opera House. They rented bicycles and rode to ’Sconset, where they lunched on oysters and vichyssoise at the Chanticleer. As they were leaving that lunch, they spied Paul Newman playing tennis across the street at the Casino.
“Shall we go introduce ourselves?” Eleanor had asked.
“Absolutely not, darling,” Billy had said.
Eleanor had been keen to buy property on Nantucket, but Billy favored the Vineyard, where, admittedly, prices were more reasonable. They quarreled about it for twenty years until they divorced—and then they both got what they wanted, Eleanor supposed, although she had certainly had moments when she’d wished she’d been more flexible.
Eleanor has heard from Tabitha a handful of times—and from Harper twice—although conversations with both twins have been decidedly one-sided. Eleanor talks about how she’s doing, how she’s feeling, her progress with physical therapy, and her struggle to get off the painkillers. One morning she realizes that neither twin has said a word about herself, but then Eleanor realizes that if she asks how they’re doing, they’ll candy-coat the truth. To figure out what’s going on, Eleanor will have to get home and see for herself.
She is met at the ferry by her usual cabdriver, Chet Holland. Chet’s sister is a transgender woman in Toronto named Desirée, and Desirée Holland loves to wear the ERF label, a fact that secretly thrills Eleanor. Eleanor beams at Chet and introduces him to Flossie. “My baby sister, Flossie.”
“Oh, yeah?” Chet says. The sister is a younger, perkier version of Eleanor with platinum-blond instead of silver hair. And fake breasts, if Chet had to guess. “You happy to be back on the rock?”
Flossie rolls her eyes. “You can keep your Boston baked beans and foggy gray islands. I’m a Florida girl.”
Hell, yeah!Chet thinks. He fills his own idle time daydreaming about Florida himself. He checks out the left hand of Eleanor’s baby sister, Flossie, thinking he might like to take her out and show her what Nantucket has to offer. But Flossie sports a rock the size of theTitaniciceberg on her ring finger. Never mind.
Chet pulls into Eleanor’s driveway, on Cliff Road.
“Wait a minute,” Eleanor says. “Is this the right house?
“Sure is,” Chet says. True, he hasn’t driven Eleanor anywhere all summer, but thisisher house, of that he is certain. He hits the brakes and waits for Eleanor to orient herself. She’s getting older, plus she’s a creative genius (at least according to his brother/sister Dave/Desirée), so maybe her brain is too crammed with new designs to recall what her house looks like. Einstein had a problem like that—he didn’t know his own phone number!
“I haven’t been here since Slick Willie was president,” Flossie says. “But it’s just as I remember it, Ellie. Prettier, even.”
The housekeeper says something in Spanish that sounds urgent. She’s pointing to the house.
“Wait a minute,” Eleanor says. She’s confused. Itisher house, but something is off. She curses herself for taking the extra oxycodone that morning. She felt she needed it to get through the ordeal of traveling, but it has left her addled. She snaps her fingers. “I know what threw me,” she says. “I donotrecognize that car.” Here she points to the navy-blue Bronco in the driveway of the carriage house. Whose car is that? It looks like something a spoiled teenage boy would drive, or a man going through a certain kind of midlife crisis. Maybe it belongs to a boyfriend of Ainsley’s. Or possibly a boyfriend of Tabitha’s. Someone new? Eleanor does not at all understand why Tabitha broke things off with Ramsay Striker. Eleanor didn’t convey to Tabitha how heartbroken she was about the split. She dealt with it the same way she handled all unpleasant topics: by ignoring it.
Eleanor studies the car another second. She has seen that car before, she realizes. She hasriddenin it—but when? Then she remembers: she rode in it on the way to Billy’s memorial reception. It’s Harper’s car! But why is Harper’s car here on Nantucket? Eleanor rummages around in her mind; she can’t think of any reason.
“Of course this is my house,” Eleanor says. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” To Chet she says, “Carry on.”
Felipa and Flossie make up the bedroom on the first floor while Eleanor rests in an armchair on the glassed-in porch that overlooks Nantucket Sound. From the house phone, she tries Tabitha’s number, but she gets no answer, and Eleanor doesn’t believe in leaving messages. Eleanor is too exhausted to call the store. Honestly, that store is the bane of her existence. Tabitha has done a terrible job managing it in recent years, and the thing has become a financial albatross. Eleanor has given serious thought to closing it, but if she does that, what will Tabitha do for work? And this summer, Ainsley is working at the store as well, although Eleanor hasn’t heard word one about how she likes it. Probably she sits around and plays on her blasted phone.
Phones have become the scourge of modern society, if you ask Eleanor. Possibly the best thing about Boston was how out of touch she was.
Still, she has missed her water views, her Simon Pearce candlesticks displayed on the table in front of her, the smell of this house, and the chiming of these clocks. There are certain culinary delights particular to Nantucket that Eleanor has missed as well—the lobster bisque from the Sea Grille, the cheeseburger from Le Languedoc, the truffle-Asiago frites from Fifty-Six Union. Would it be cruel of Eleanor to send Flossie out on a gastronomic scavenger hunt so that they might have all three items for dinner tonight? Eleanor can arrange for Chet to drive Flossie; he had seemed to take a shine to her. Yes, Eleanor will do exactly that. Flossie is headed back to Palm Beach the day after tomorrow. Eleanor needs to enjoy Flossie’s companionship while she still has it. And she needs to find Tabitha.
When Flossie comes out onto the porch carrying two giant Mount Gay and tonics—it must be five o’clock, Eleanor thinks; Flossie is always right on the nose with happy hour, and the drinks are always ice cold and very strong—Eleanor gives her the instructions for dinner.
Flossie rolls her eyes. “Can’t we just get everything at the same restaurant?”
“No,” Eleanor says. “We can’t. Chet will chauffeur you around. You’ll like that.”
