Page 2 of The White Oak Lodge

“I like crime thrillers,” Nina said. It wasn’t really a lie, she guessed. Who didn’t like getting swept up in a good story?

The woman brightened. “I’ll bring my favorites to the store and lend them to you next time you come in. It looks like you don’t have enough supplies to get you through even a week!” She glanced at Nina’s bags nervously, as though she wanted to swoop in and fill them with vegetables, fruits, cereals, cookies, whatever. But it had been a long time since anyone had taken care of Nina like that. Nina knew she would resist it if it ever came.

Somehow, Nina paid and got out of there and drove through the night to the cabin.She’s just trying to be nice, Nina reminded herself. But for some reason, she couldn’t stop shaking. Maybe it was because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a normal, human conversation with someone that had nothing to do with Princeton or Daniel or the children. Something that forced her to acknowledge that she was a human in the world and not an all-out mess—a catastrophe of an anthropology professor, a woman in the messy beginnings of a divorce, the little girl her family had left behind.

Online, she’d opted for a cabin that allowed her to check in by herself, which meant that when she reached the one-story cedarcabin, hunched over the water on stilts, she scoured the left end of the porch to discover a lock box with a key code that, after she added the number, opened like a mouth to deliver her keys. The keys opened the door right away to reveal a quaint living room of white wooden slats, cozy rugs, and anonymous artwork that might have suited any taste and therefore didn’t suit anyone’s. The bedroom had a queen-sized mattress and a television on the wall. She told herself now she wouldn’t wallow in bed and watch television, though she immediately knew she would anyway. It was the kind of thing Daniel would have called “indulgent.”

Nina changed into a pair of sweatpants and a big T-shirt with her undergraduate alma mater on it: Michigan State University. It was soft and over-worn and forest green, and she thought she never wanted to take it off. She opened a bottle of wine and fried two eggs in a dark gray skillet, then discovered there was no salt and pepper and had to choke them down without. Whatever. With the wine and the food, she was starting to feel more like herself—so much so that she decided to check on her children. It was something she’d promised herself not to do, not so soon after dropping them off. But what could it hurt? She wanted to tell them she loved them because it was essential that they never forgot. Had Nina’s mother ever wanted to call Nina and remind her of that, too? Why hadn’t she?

The camp phone rang three times before someone answered. The camp secretary, Peggy, balked with confusion when Nina told her what she wanted. “The kids are at the campfire and will be going to bed immediately after that,” she explained. “They’re making friends and socializing. It’s important that they learn the schedule.”

Nina’s eyes were heavy with tears. “Oh. Of course.” The last thing she wanted was to implode the perfectly curated camp structure. She didn’t want to distract her children when they’d already gone through so much. Just that morning, over greasyfast food, Will had blinked at her and asked, “Are you and Daddy really getting divorced?” It was the first time either of them had asked about it. Nina had shrunken in her plastic chair and said, “Now, who in the world told you that?”

Why couldn’t she tell the truth?

Suddenly, on the back porch were footsteps that shook the entire house. Nina hung up on the camp secretary and bolted to her feet, stricken.An intruder, she thought, realizing that whoever it was had probably followed her. They knew she was a single woman alone in a house on the water, and nobody was around to hear her screams.Here’s my crime thriller, she thought. The doorknob rattled. The shadow at the window was massive, a broad-shouldered man wearing a thick hat. There was the clink of a key. The knob turned too far, all the way, and the door burst open. Nina shot toward the bedroom and hid behind the door, peering through the crack under the hinges to see who had come. Her pulse skyrocketed. She thought of all the women she’d read about, women who, in the last moments of their lives, had fought tooth and nail, if only to see their children again. She pulled Fiona’s and Will’s faces into her mind’s eye and told herself to be brave.You’re all they have, she reminded herself, swallowing. She searched the bedroom for a weapon. The lamp? A pillow against his face? Who was she kidding? Her exercise of choice was running, and she wasn’t very good at that, either.

A big man in his mid-forties lumbered into the house. A key glinted in his right hand. He pulled off his yellow wool hat, scratched at thick dark curls laced with silver, and stared down at her bottle of wine and glass, confusion stirring in his eyes. There was something off about it. Why wasn’t he coming after her? He looked clean and well-kept, his coat thick against the eastern winds, his cheekbones high, and he was sporting an attractive five-o'clock shadow. He was tan. But bad men look like everyone else, she reminded herself.

And then, in a voice rich and deep as chocolate, he called out, “Um. Is someone here?”

Chapter Two

Amos

June 2025

Amos stood in the living room of the little cabin on the outskirts of Siasconset with a frothy and frantic feeling in his stomach. There was an oil-slick skillet on the stovetop, a dirty plate in the sink, and wine in a glass. Suddenly, the bedroom door screamed open and out came a pretty black-haired woman with a lamp raised over her head, the cord swung comically over her shoulder. Her eyes were pointed with fear. It took Amos a second or two to realize the fear she had was for him. Amos put both hands up and took a dramatic step away from her, then tripped on a kitchen chair and fell backward. The cabin, which sat on stilts over the water, shook with his weight. The woman lowered the lamp.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Amos remained on the floor with his legs spread out in front of him. He hadn’t asked for this. “I’m the caretaker. I’m here to look at the bathroom light?”

The woman clutched the lamp harder. Amos realized what he’d said was the kind of thing an intruder might say—an intruder with bad intentions. He groaned and pushed himself to explain more, “The owner is a woman named Nancy Mulligan. She owns several properties from Nantucket to Martha’s Vineyard and has me manage the utilities and checkups. She didn’t tell me someone had booked this place out. Or, if she did, I got my dates wrong.” He raised his shoulders and thought back to a few minutes ago on his walk over when he’d double-checked Nancy’s email about the bathroom light and made extra sure that nobody had booked the cabin out for the night.

The woman took a breath. “I booked it last minute.”

Amos sighed. “Nancy still should have told me.”

“Yeah. She should have.” The woman side-stepped along the edge of the kitchen to reach the bathroom, where she flipped the switch. Nothing happened. In her eyes, he recognized that she believed him, or almost did, which had to be good enough right now.

“To be fair,” Amos said, pulling himself up and righting the kitchen chair, “I told Nancy I was going to fix it this morning. But today got out of hand.”

The woman’s lips twitched as though she wanted to smile and wasn’t going to let herself. She really was beautiful, with pale, glowing skin and big, intelligent eyes. Without fully meaning to, he checked her left hand for a ring and saw it was bare. No husband. Here alone. No wonder she was frightened. But it wasn’t rare for single women to rent places in Nantucket by themselves. He’d met many who were writing books, working on their memoirs, or spending hours a day painting the ocean.

“I know those kinds of days,” the woman said.

Amos fixed his face into a half smile, one he hoped wouldn’t scare her even more.

“You didn’t see my car?” the woman asked.

Amos shook his head. “I walked down from my cabin. It’s about ten minutes thataway.” He pointed in the direction of the old White Oak Lodge. Halfway between here and there was the cabin he’d built himself ten years ago, tucked under a line of trees.

The woman put the lamp on the kitchen counter and crossed her arms. Amos wasn’t sure what to do. Should he go ahead and fix the bathroom light?

He decided to ask, and the woman nodded. “I guess I’ll need it.”

Amos took his tools into the bathroom, feeling the woman’s eyes upon him, watching his every move. When he removed a screwdriver, he felt her fear rise, and when he inserted it into the screw around the light fixture, he felt her fear dissipate again. He hated this about being a man of six-foot-three. To anyone else, there was no guarantee he was safe. At night, he’d seen women cross the road to get away from him. He’d wanted to call out to them and say,me? Not me! I’m here to protect you!But how could anyone know that for sure?

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