Page 37 of Return to Whitmore
“I did,” he said, not bothering to look bashful about it. He was a chef, after all. “I never get to include these kinds of flavors at the restaurant, but they’re some of my favorites, especially in the summertime. It makes me want to open another restaurant. Something more experimental.”
“It seems like people would go for it,” Charlotte said. “You’re beloved in the culinary community.”
Vincent laughed. “I don’t know about that. I’ve had my share of bad reviews. Whereas you, Charlotte Whitmore? Your documentaries have only gotten acclaim, as far as I can tell.”
Charlotte’s eyes smarted. She couldn’t look at him. She was too afraid she’d tell him that her funding had been pulled, that her career had very suddenly taken a nosedive.
“I don’t know about that,” she said, echoing him. “Maybe we can lighten up on the compliments?”
“You’re right,” Vincent agreed with a laugh. “It’s getting too intense.”
Charlotte pulled what she’d packed from the tote bag, feeling sheepish but smiling to herself all the same. “I opted for snacks I remember us eating back in the nineties,” she said. “Fruit Roll-Ups, Gushers, and of course, Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies. What do you think?”
Vincent cackled and picked up an oatmeal creme pie as if it were the most treasured thing in the world. “To be honest? I’m still obsessed with these. My kids won’t eat them because I raised them on really good food, and they’re snobs now. But I love trash, and I will forever love trash.”
“That’s what I like to hear!” Charlotte declared.
For a little while, they talked about easy things like the weather on Nantucket, the restaurant, Vincent’s children, and the dynamics of his new arrangement with Jamie. Vincent asked a few questions about Charlotte’s career, and Charlotte answered as best as she could without getting into details, namely that she’d been taking a break and that she was hoping to get back on the film festival circuit soon.
“You’ve had such an incredible life,” Vincent said, startling her. She didn’t feel that way about it in the slightest. “You’ve been all over, premiering your documentaries. You never had to diminish yourself for any husband or children. You’re never stopped. I admire that.”
Charlotte felt it like a sword through her heart. It felt so remarkably false. She hoped she didn’t betray anything on her face.
But goodness, so much had happened since she’d last seen Vincent. Back then, she’d wanted so much. She’d been building so much. How could she possibly tell him everything, without sounding like a broken woman, a woman he should run as far as he could away from?
Chapter Sixteen
Summer 2004
Kathy pulled up out front of the apartment in Greenwich and honked her horn at just after six thirty that evening. Charlotte, who was waiting upstairs for just this signal, burst out of the door and locked it behind her. When she got downstairs, she threw herself into the passenger side and plopped her bag in the back. Kathy was playing a pop CD and singing along, her bright pink lips shining. Charlotte, finally awake and alive after her episode of exhaustion after being burned out, threw her arms around her.
“Hey! I’m driving here!” Kathy said in a fake Brooklyn accent.
Charlotte laughed and looked around, realizing they were stuck in heavy traffic. “How far ahead are the guys?” she asked.
“They passed me a few minutes ago.” Kathy tried and failed to merge into the lane beside them, as it was going faster. “They were listening to really loud music and singing and acting insane. I think they’re finally getting along.”
“About time,” Charlotte said, her heart ballooning. They decided to take two cars because Kathy had to leave Nantucket early, Monday morning at the latest, and Charlotte didn’t want to make her drive alone. At first, Jack had seemed nervous, not so eager to drive with Ralph by himself, but then he’d shrugged it off.
“What do you think clicked for Seth?” Kathy asked. “I mean, you and Seth have never felt like a romantic item to me. But Seth is certainly possessive of you. Why has he decided Ralph’s okay now?”
“I made Seth understand that he’ll always be in my life. He’ll always be, like, number one-ish.” Charlotte smiled.
“I mean, your husband will be number one,” Kathy said. “Right?”
“Husband!” Charlotte cried, ignoring the question. “I can’t believe it.”
“You’re too young.” Kathy shook her head.
“We’re in our mid-twenties, now. This is when this is supposed to happen,” Charlotte reminded her.
“I didn’t know we subscribed to society’s rules,” Kathy said.
Charlotte stuck out her tongue and turned up the volume, leaning back in the seat and watching the skyscrapers roll past her. It had been five years since she’d moved to Manhattan, five years since she’d left Italy, and six years since the fire, almost. Insanity. It felt remarkable that she and Jack had decided to bring Kathy and Ralph to the Nantucket house on Madequecham Beach. It felt like offering them pieces of their soul.
Would they tell them about Jack’s real identity later? She half imagined it, explaining what they needed to know about the past for her best friend and fiancé and watching this knowledge transform them. It wouldn’t have to change everything. Maybe it would bring all of them closer.
Maybe Jack would finally tell Charlotte more about what had happened leading up to the fire. Maybe he would finally bring her fully in.
