Page 2 of A Nantucket Season

Before Ella retreated downstairs, she stopped in the library to wipe down the windows, bringing delicious lemony light to the aisles and aisles of books and desks. Although Ella’s soul was a musician’s soul, and she did all her best work in the music studio, it was here, in this library, that she’d read about so many of her favorite musicians: Joni Mitchell, George Harrison, and Nina Simone. It was here she’d learned how to dream up a musician’s life.

There was a knock at the library door, and Ella whirled around to find Will. Although she’d met him more than twenty years ago at this point and had two of his children, Ella’s heart still skipped a beat when she saw him, his dark, messy hair, his broad shoulders and his five o’clock shadow. She was going to marry him soon. She could hardly believe it.

“There she is,” Will joked, drawing his arms around her waist.

Ella rose up on her toes to kiss him with her eyes closed.

“You were up early,” Will said when their kiss broke.

“Mom and I went to the farmer’s market,” Ella explained. “I got you some of that goat cheese you like.”

“What! Are you serious?” Will’s eyes bugged out cartoonishly. “If we weren’t already engaged, I’d ask you to marry me right now.”

“Don’t overdo it.” Ella laughed.

Will laced his fingers through hers and tugged her toward the hallway. “Greta put out stuff for sandwiches. I was put in charge of making sure everyone got lunch. Julia nearly punched me when I told her. She was like, ‘Do you know how much stuff there still is to do?’ And then, she ran away.”

Ella grimaced. “Have you seen Alana?”

“She’s been trying out new dresses for the past hour, asking Ivy and Anna which one is best for the big dinner,” Will said.

“Well, I’m glad she’s helping out,” Ella joked.

As Ella and Will stepped into the kitchen, they discovered their son and daughter, Danny and Laura, hovering over the counter, competing over who could make the tallest sandwich. Laura was back from her first year at Columbia, thank goodness (Ella’s heart had been split in half when she’d dropped her off), but at the end of summer, Danny would join her there, thus making Ella and Will “empty nesters.”

And in fact, they’d discussed leaving The Copperfield House soon, embarking on their own somewhere on the island. Privately, they’d begun looking at little houses with just enough space for them, their kids when they came home, and all of their music equipment. But after so many years separated from the Copperfield Family, Ella was enjoying this year of bliss and family love. It had been remarkable to watch her mother and Danny bond, morning after morning, as Greta had insisted on making his breakfast. “You’re a growing boy, Danny. Eat up,” she’d said, relishing her grandmotherly role.

Danny and Laura greeted their parents with happy, sun-tanned smiles, then headed to the back porch to eat their towering sandwiches. Ella and Will followed after them, eating quickly so that they could get back to The Copperfield House preparations. Danny and Laura brimmed with expectation for the night ahead, watching as Charlie, Julia’s boyfriend, and Jeremy, Alana’s boyfriend, set up a very long wooden table on the grass directly next to the beach, with a gorgeous view of their stretch of the water. That was where they would have their opening meal.

“I’m so excited to meet these people,” Laura said. “Musicians and painters and writers and filmmakers! Maybe they’ll kick me into gear this summer. I’ve felt pretty lazy since I got back from school.”

“The musician Mom picked out is insanely good,” Will said.

“You showed me her stuff,” Laura remembered. “She sounded like a mix of Stevie Nicks and Shania Twain. And her lyrics! They broke my heart.”

“It’s hard to believe she hasn’t been discovered yet,” Ella said, remembering how she’d googled the name “Aurora Bills, singer” and found absolutely nothing. “She’s thirty-five. I hope it isn’t too late for her.”

“We’ll help her get there,” Will said, his smile widening as he turned back to their children. “Your mom was always like this when we were on the road. Always trying to find the next talent to bring up with us.”

“We were discovered when we were very young,” Ella remembered. “But it was luck, you know? Someone saw us at the right time. And I’ve always wanted to pass that luck on to someone else.”

ChapterTwo

The fresh group of Copperfield House artists were set to begin arriving at five-thirty. Jittery and expectant, Bernard and Greta sat on the front porch, Greta in a beautiful purple floor-length dress and Bernard in a white button-down and a suit jacket, exchanging whispers. From inside, Ella considered what they could possibly be talking about.

“Those two have gotten so chummy over the past few months,” Alana said as she entered the living room with a glass of rosé, her long brunette hair flowing out behind her. “It’s dangerous.”

“They were always chummy,” Julia said from the piano bench, crossing her arms. “And now, they’re just back to their old selves, doing what they were always meant to be doing.”

Ella’s heart lifted, knowing Julia was right. In the seventies, Greta and Bernard met in Paris when they were both students at Sorbonne University. When Greta had gotten pregnant by accident, they’d struggled to make ends meet until they’d decided to return to Nantucket, Greta’s family’s home, where they’d purchased this enormous, drafty Victorian. But Greta hadn’t been content. She’d craved their old lives in Paris, where they’d met people from all over the world who wanted to discuss their art and push their craft to new heights. It was as though, with the re-opening of The Copperfield House residency, Greta was allowed to transport herself back to Paris in 1970. It was magical.

“Is that Andy?” Greta’s voice was like a song through the open window. Together, Ella, Julia, and Alana jumped up to watch as the first of the five artists approached the house, a backpack heavy on his shoulders. He waved a sturdy hand and said, “Hello!” in an English accent.

“Is that the guy from London?” Julia breathed.

“Yes,” Alana said quietly so as not to be heard as he approached their parents. “His films are so weird. I don’t really understand what Dad sees in them.”

“He made that film that made Dad cry?” Ella asked.

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