Page 73 of Our Last Vineyard Summer

They agreed to table the conversation and stop into a real estate office in the morning to ask an agent about their rights versus a tenant’s.

Betsy’s stomach growled, and she asked Louisa if she’d mind if they invited James over. They’d dragged him to the island with them. They should include him in their plans.

Minutes later, he knocked on the door three times, employing the secret code they used as kids. The three of them ordered mushroom pizza and squeezed into the small room to watchThe Love Boat, thenFantasy Island.James perched on a wooden chair near the beds, his feet up on the motel room’s pine dresser.

“Do you think Julie has a thing for Captain Stubing?” James asked, flashing his brows and looking amused. They were all engrossed in an episode about a tennis pro meeting up with his ex-flame, and Louisa shushed them. Betsy spoke quietly.

“Absolutely not. Julie has a crush on Gopher. See how she lights up every time she sees him.” Betsy pushed herself up on bent elbow. “Besides, gross. Captain Stubing could be her father.”

“Shush!” Louisa tossed one of the flattened bed pillows at her, which made Betsy toss one of the grimy throw pillows back. James reached for the pancake-thin pillow and tossed it at Betsy. He fit right into their family, almost like he’d never left.

That night, after James returned to his room and they turned off the light, Louisa propped herself up on one elbow in the springy queen bed. “If you don’t want to have this baby, Betts, I just want you to know something.”

“Okay,” Betsy said.

“I had a procedure when I was fifteen, to get rid of something, really early on. Remember all that stuff with Brandon Millerton?”

Betsy had always wondered about that time, what really happened. “Did Mom and Dad know?”

“Dad drove us. Mom came inside. I don’t think Dad ever saw me the same way.” She flopped backward onto her pillow. “Anyway, Ialways felt so ashamed by it, and I don’t want you to feel that way, in case you decide to do it. It’s your right.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? Does Aggie know?” Betsy kicked the bedspread off; even with a cool breeze coming in through the window, the room felt stagnant.

Louisa scoffed. “It’s not something you advertise, and no, Aggie doesn’t know. But listen, I can take you to get help, if you need me.”

Betsy’s voice squeaked out. “I want this baby.”

“I know, I’m just reminding you.”

In the morning, James left a note on their door saying he was going for a ride to a lighthouse; he’d be back by ten. The sisters had a quick breakfast and waited for the Realtor’s office to open around the corner. Sitting opposite an agent named Peter Collins, whose work attire seemed suited for a sunset sail—cherry-red shorts, leather boat shoes, and a short-sleeve collared shirt—he confirmed they could indeed sell the Nantucket house, even if they had a tenant. “As long as there’s no lease holding you to a certain rental date, this individual would be forced to vacate.” Peter picked up his pen, ready to make a note on a yellow legal pad. “Do you want to give me the address and I can give you an idea of the home’s worth?”

“Not yet,” Louisa said. She took his card. “But we’ll be in touch.”

While they waited for James at the ferry dock, Betsy watched Louisa walk over to a pay phone with her Chanel purse on her shoulder, loading the booth with coins. She talked animatedly for a few minutes, then returned to Betsy’s side in the scorching sun, their overnight bags at their feet. “What was that about?” Betsy asked.

“I called the firm and told them I’ll be back in a few days to begin my new position.” She pretended to be gleeful, then rolled her eyes.

“You could hold out,” Betsy said. “There have to be other law firms, better people.”

Louisa crossed her arms over her tank sweater. “Maybe, but it could also be worse. I’ll pay my dues with the old man and I’ll transcribe hisstupid notes, and I’ll work so hard, I’ll run circles around him. Next summer, I’ll request to assist a different lawyer.”

It was too depressing to consider, that you could work as hard as Louisa had and still be relegated to menial office work. “What made you change your mind?”

“Love. I realized that Mom and Dad stopped putting each other first, choosing their careers, and I’ve never done that, put Michael first. I want to try.”

“Good for you.” Betsy watched the ferry as it docked, workers tossing ropes to the tall wooden pilings. “But you’re not giving up on your career, are you?”

Louisa’s purple pleated shorts were as prim as her smile. “Goodness no. But maybe Mom is wrong. Maybe I can get married and still make partner. Maybe a woman can have it allandbe happy.”

Betsy liked that idea. In two years’ time, it would be a new decade: the 1980s, and the lives of women would change once more. Her mother was already saying that more women were joining the workforce than at any point in history. They would have to find a way to be there for their kids in ways that Betsy’s own mother had failed to be there for them. Fathers would have to learn to step up. Women would need to rely on their families again.

Betsy would need to rely on her family again.

James drove them onto the ferry at ten, all of them walking upstairs to the open sundecks of the boat. As the ferry pushed off from the dock, James mentioned that he’d been offered a tenured position at New York University.

“I may stay on the East Coast after all,” he said, petting Peanut Butter’s head. “It’s a good job, and it would allow me to spend summers here again. I forgot how much I loved this island.”

Betsy smiled. “When you love something, you should never let it go,” she said, kissing Peanut Butter on the top of his soft furry head.

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