Page 38 of The Summer We Started Over

“Oh, Eddie,” Dinah cried, “I’m so sorry to bother you, but the stalker’s across the street. He’s looking up at my windows. I’m frightened.”

“Okay, Dinah. It’s all right. Who’s the doorman tonight?”

“That’s just it. He’s a substitute. I don’t even know his name.”

“Regardless, he won’t let the guy into the building,” Eddie said.

“But the doorman doesn’t know who the guy is! He might think the guy lives here!” Dinah was sobbing. “Eddie, I’m frightened. I’m really frightened.”

Eddie took a deep breath and wondered if this was a really bad idea. Then she said, “Listen, Dinah. Why don’t you come visit us in Nantucket?”

“Really?”

“You could stay with us. We have a guest room. I’ll just have to move some books. And someone is almost always here, plus we have a dog.”

“But what about your father? Your sister? Won’t I be an intrusion?”

“Dad’s writing his book and Barrett’s opening her shop and I’ll be doing a hundred other things, so I won’t be able to, um, be your cook and everything, but you’ll have a safe place to live and the island’s got lots of great takeout.”

“Eddie, thank you! I can never thank you enough! I won’t bother you. I promise. I’ll just stay in my room and write. I know you’re busy with your family.”

“I really am, Dinah. I’ve got to help my father and my sister. This is my first vacation in two years, andyouwill have to take care of yourself.”

“Oh, I will, Eddie. I completely understand. You won’t know I’m there. Eddie, I’m really grateful. I’d better hang up. I’ll pack a few things and fly there tonight.”

“Wait, Dinah! I’m not sure any airlines are flying from New York to Nantucket at night.”

“I’ll take the private jet. Heaven knows I pay enough to be in the consortium. I can be on Nantucket in an hour.”

“Dinah. Slow down. Think. You need to get in touch with the admin and see if a pilot is available. They need to have some kind ofadvance warning. You need to pack. You’ll need warm clothes, not winter clothes, but some sweaters—”

“Ooooh,” Dinah wailed. “You always pack for me. I don’t even know where my suitcases are.”

“You can do this. First, you need to get in touch with the jet admin. They’re open twenty-four hours a day. The number is on my phone. You should have it, too.”

“I’ll find it. I’ll text you my information. And, Eddie, thank you. More than I can say, thank you. I love you, Eddie.”

“Love you, too,” Eddie said and ended the call. She turned to her father and sister. “Okay, I’ve done it. I invited Dinah to stay with us. She’ll be here tomorrow.”

Her phone buzzed again.

It was Dinah, sending a text message.Can’t get a plane until ten tomorrow morning. Will pack tonight. I’ve got to write a scene that just hit me. If I don’t have time to pack, I’ll just buy stuff on Nantucket.

—

Barrett rose early, knowing the carpenters would be here soon. She pulled on white cropped jeans, a blue tank top, and flip-flops, made herself a cup of coffee, and sat out on the porch to ease into the day.

The morning air was fresh, almost sparkling in the sunlight. Birds were hopping from twig to branch and singing about their little bird lives. The horse came to the fence and tossed her head. Barrett walked down to the fence and scratched Duchess behind her ear. Duchess snorted and walked away.

Barrett knew Eddie was awake—she heard her taking coffee up to her room—and she had a pretty good idea what Eddie was doing.

She’d bet fifty dollars Eddie was writing in her journal. Eddie had kept a diary on and off all her life, especially during difficult times. When Dove’s family moved away and Dove disappeared, Eddie hadstayed in her room writing for hours. When Stearns died, Eddie wrote in her journal deep into the night. So many times, Barrett had seen the light under Eddie’s bedroom door and wanted to go in and talk with her, but she stayed in her room, knowing Eddie’s writing was therapeutic, and wishing she had the habit of journaling, too. But for her, the words would never come.

The kitchen door opened and Eddie leaned out. “Hey! Have you had breakfast?”

“I was waiting for you. I made coffee.”

Barrett went into the house. Eddie, in jeans and an old T-shirt, her hair caught up in a leaf-green bandana, was putting slices of Portuguese bread in the toaster.

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