Page 48 of Saltwater Secrets
Aria hadn’t been back to Nantucket since the Fourth of July, and she ached to leap in the Sound, to let the waves roll her back to shore. She ached to eat lobster rolls and drink a crisp glass of wine with her grandmother. She promised she wouldn’t read any more of Renée’s mother’s secrets. She promised she’d get to the island as soon as she could.
But that evening before she ran back to Logan’s place for dinner, Aria couldn’t help but flutter the pages of Dorothy’s diary, searching for various keywords. She wasn’t snooping, exactly; she wasn’t giving herself the full picture. But what she saw confirmed her suspicions: William France had come back into Dorothy’s life, and right here in this brownstone, they’d hada passionate and wonderful love, a free love without judgment, a love that tried to mend the wounds from the past.
Dorothy wrote:
William and I will never get over the loss of our darling daughter, Rachel. We will never get over the fact that we weren’t able to live our lives together, in love. But we’re not dead yet. We’re in our fifties, and our hearts are open to the incredible changes available to us, now that we’re here in the city, now that we’re alone.
I hope you’ll meet with us someday, Renée. I hope you’ll find in William the kindness your father was never able to show you. I hope you can think of him like a father.
With Love, Always, Your Mother
Aria closed the journal again with a slam, surprising herself. Okay, okay. She’d let herself read too much. But it was with a brighter sense of the universe that she returned to Logan’s, thinking of Dorothy and William and their second chance in the Big Apple. She was again reminded of Dorothy, sending Aria to Manhattan to heal. It was where Dorothy herself had found her footing again. She’d wanted to give Aria the hope she’d found for herself.
Aria stopped at a local grocery store to buy a bottle of rosé and different types of cheese, a comte and a Camembert. As she paid and returned to the whirling city outside, it suddenly struck her that in fact Dorothy’s second chance with William hadn’t lasted very long, that after 2001, Dorothy had returned to Nantucket Island and boarded herself up. Aria lost her footing and nearly fell off the sidewalk. She took a breath, steadying herself with a stop sign pole. She realized that she was too frightened to learn why Dorothy had returned to Nantucket. She wanted to think of Dorothy and William as happy and in loveand finally able to proclaim that love to the world. She wanted to think of them as just as happy as she currently was, with Logan by her side.
But she felt the darkness that lurked just beyond the final diary. She didn’t dare read that far.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Aria and Logan pulled into the Wagner Estate the following weekend, Hilary, Marc, and Renée were on the back veranda, sharing a bottle of Cab and talking about what was left to do in the redesign for the estate. Surprising everyone, Renée hadn’t done her makeup that day, and her hair was pulled into a messy bun that made her look soft and gentle, like an approachable friend rather than the hard-edged woman she’d pretended to be early on.
Together, Hilary and Renée had decided that the redesign required another full year, at least. Renée was now working closely with Hilary. She’d taken an entire wing as her home for now, and she always kept Hilary’s favorite foods in stock. Sometimes she asked Hilary out to dinner or for a glass of wine. Hilary knew she was lonely, but that wasn’t why she always said yes. More than anything, she’d begun to find Renée a hoot. There were bits and pieces of Dorothy in Renée’s personality. But there was also something unique and shining and wonderful. Renée was someone special, someone broken who was doing the hard work of putting herself back together again.
“You didn’t tell me Aria was coming back,” Renée said to Hilary, popping out of her chair as Aria and Logan appeared, looking right together in a way that Aria and Thaddeus never had.
Hilary and Marc hurried over to hug their daughter and her new boyfriend and ask them parent-worthy questions about their trip like how long it had taken and whether they needed anything to drink. When Aria spotted Renée, she faltered for a second, as though all the mental preparation she’d gone through till now hadn’t gotten her ready to actually see her.
In Aria’s backpack were the journals. In her arms was the shoebox, which Dorothy had apparently left behind. Hilary already knew what was in it without asking.
Renée floated up to say hello. She eyed the shoebox briefly, then seemed to dismiss it, saying, “Aria, what you’ve done with the brownstone is absolutely staggering. When I first saw that place in early June, I thought for sure it should be burned to the ground. But you’ve transformed it.” Renée extended both of her arms dreamily. “I know it’ll be done before the year’s end.”
Renée hadn’t said what she planned to do with the brownstone after this. Hilary assumed she’d put it on the market, unless she wanted to spend more time there, get in touch with the life her mother had had there after Philip’s death.
Aria pasted a smile on her face. Logan, who knew bits and pieces of Renée’s story at this point, looked like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.
“Logan,” Marc said, remembering what he and Hilary had already discussed, “I was wondering if you could give me a hand with something in the garage?”
Logan smiled, eager to help out. (Toward the end, Thaddeus hadn’t wanted to help Marc with anything. Hilary didn’t want to spend all her time comparing her daughter’s two boyfriends, but sometimes it came easily.)
Hilary disappeared to grab another glass for the bottle of wine, and she returned to the veranda to find Renée and Aria in conversation. It seemed that Renée wanted to explain herself re: Jefferson Everett. She wanted Aria to understand that she was planning on never seeing him again. It was Hilary and Aria’s hope that the diaries would put the final nails in the coffin of Renée and Jefferson’s relationship. It was Dorothy’s love, from beyond, guiding her daughter to a new life.
“Renée?” Aria asked in a soft voice. “I have something to show you.”
Renée stopped her monologue halfway through.
“It’s really strange,” Aria said tentatively. “But they’re journal entries. And they’re all, um, addressed to you.” She unzipped her backpack and procured the little yellowed books, passing them over to Renée.
Renée held them aloft in a stack, as though afraid they were about to explode. “Addressed to me?” she whispered.
Aria nodded.
“Did you read them?” Renée asked, a sharp edge to her voice.
Aria wasn’t sure what to say. “Just enough to realize I shouldn’t read anything else,” she said. “They’re private.”
Renée’s shoulders relaxed the slightest bit. Hilary took this as her cue to return to the veranda and pour Aria a glass of wine. Aria sat nervously at the edge of her chair, her hands cupping her knees. “I found them under the floorboards in your bedroom,” she said. “Along with this.” She picked the shoebox up and passed it over.
Renée set the journals on the coffee table between them and took the box. After just a brief peek, she nearly dropped it. “Goodness. How much is in here?”
