Page 117 of Summer People
Just as we’re headed out, ready to walk out onto the figurative stage, Maggie squeals. “Oh my goodness! Our Instagram post about the show change is blowing up!”
There’s a knock on the door, then Fisher’s deep voice. “You guys ready?”
Maggie opens it and steps out, her focus glued to her phone. “One of the summer people must have posted about your help with the show. The page has tons of new followers, and they all want to know if it’s true that Elizabeth Sweet is performing tonight.”
When she lifts her head, beaming, I choke back the urge to wince, instead faking a smile. Once she’s engrossed in her device again, babbling about how this is going to be great for the school, Fisher and I glance at one another nervously.
At the sound of a throat clearing, we turn in unison.
“It’s true,” Cank says. “There was a whole slew of people getting off the ferry this afternoon. Normally the incoming ferry on Sundays is mostly empty and the outgoing is full.”
A rumble of a growl rolls up Fisher’s chest.
With a sigh, I place my palm flat against his racing heart. “It’ll be fine.”
His jaw clicks, his dark eyes swimming with concern. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
So do I. But what choice do we have? Besides, more tourists means more money for the island, and we need that money more than ever now that the schoolhouse will have to be rebuilt.
I’ve already called my financial planner and instructed her to make an anonymous donation that will cover the rebuild, but there are a thousand other ways this town could use the extra income. The brewery, the inn. They can all use the business. If they benefit from the chaos that’s sure to ensue, then it’ll be worth it.
Ten minutes into the show, it’s clear Fisher was right to worry.
It’s hard to hear the opening number over the shouts.
“Give us Elizabeth Sweet! Where’s Libby?”
Those types of demands come from every angle. I’m hiding out in the tent we set up as our backstage area so that only the characters onstageare seen. The stage being the grass in front of the tree.
Fisher gives me an apologetic look, and I know what he’s going to say before he says it. “We’re getting you out of here. Wilder can take Sutton back to the house.”
As much as I hate to miss the show, this is the right call. So I follow Fisher out of the tent. He takes his hat from his head and puts it on mine, then he and Wilder flank me to keep me from being seen until we’re out of view. Once we’re a couple hundred feet away, Wilder heads back to the show to stay with Sutton.
The walk is tense. I’m caught between wanting to apologize and knowing he’ll be mad if I do. I know this isn’t my fault, but I can’t help but feel bad that the hard work the kids and Maggie put into the show is being overshadowed by my stardom.
As we crest the hill, a group of people standing outside my house comes into view.
“Fuck. They found me.”
Fisher shakes his head. “I’m going to arrest every one of them for trespassing.”
I grasp his arm lightly, hoping to imbue a little calm. “You can’t arrest everyone.”
His chest puffs. “Watch me.”
“Fisher.” My heart thunks heavily as I peer over at him. I know what I have to do, no matter how much I hate it.
His eyes narrow, and he shakes his head sharply, like he knows what I’m going to say. “No.”
“Come on, Hacker. You know how to get into the house. Sneak me in through the back door so I can get my stuff.”
“Libby.” His lips pull down in a tortured frown. He knows I’m right.
“I planned to leave this week anyway. We knew this was coming.” I loop my arm through his and press my cheek to his bicep. “Let the excitement die down. I’ll head to LA and do the whole Emmy thing. Then when I’m back in Boston, maybe you and Sutton can visit?”
I’m confident about every facet of the plan except that last part. I worry that once I’m gone, he’ll change his mind about bringing Sutton to see me.
But I don’t have a choice. I can’t stay here. At least for now. I can’t bring more chaos to this island. Sure, the income from tourism is great, but people love Monhegan because it’s a place to escape to. Its anonymity is its superpower. People come for the quiet, untouched beauty. Not in hopes of seeing celebrities.
