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Before dessert is served-Jennifer requested an opera cake, Isabelle’s favorite-Margaret taps her glass with her spoon then stands to make a toast.

“When my children were growing up,” she says, “I used to joke that I spent five percent of my time taking care of Patrick, five percent of my time taking care of Ava, and ninety percent of my time taking care of Kevin.”

The table chuckles. Jennifer has heard all the stories about Kevin as a kid-the poor grades, the detentions, the scrambling for missing homework and forgotten lunches. Now that Jennifer is the mother of three, she sees that Kevin has long been a victim of birth order, stuck behind Patrick, who is good at everything and driven to do better, and Ava, the baby and only daughter. When Jennifer first met Kevin, she thought he was cute and sweet, a laid-back, less serious version of Patrick, and something about him had appealed to her. Of course, back then Kevin had been defined-absolutely defined-by Norah Vale. Norah had been a black sorceress, leading Kevin down a path of darkness. Kevin had been both afraid of Norah and dependent on her.

Sort of like Jennifer herself had been. Oh boy.

“Of my three children, Kevin has taken the longest to figure out who he wants to be. I’m not going to lie… Kelley and I were worried about him.”

More chuckles. Mitzi raises her hand. “And me.”

“And Mitzi,” Margaret says. She turns to Isabelle, her green eyes shining. “Kevin’s dreams started coming true once he found the right person to share them with. Look at how he has thrived and grown since he met you, Isabelle. He’s become a father. He’s started his own business. And he has a home-finally. So it is from all of Kevin’s concerned parents that I raise my glass to you, Isabelle, and say, Merci beaucoup.

“To Isabelle,” Ava says.

They clink glasses.

Isabelle opens her gifts while they enjoy the opera cake: the towels and tasteful lingerie from Jennifer, some less tasteful lingerie from Mary Rose-which gets the table hooting-a gift certificate to the RJ Miller salon from Shelby, some scented candles and a gift certificate for ten yoga sessions from Mitzi, a gorgeous silver picture frame from Ava, and a pair of Ted Muehling earrings from Margaret. Jennifer has wisely brought a couple of empty shopping bags so that Isabelle can get her haul home.

They leave the restaurant and head out into the frosty autumn air. Isabelle catches up with Jennifer on the street and gives her a hug. Jennifer recognizes that this is a big deal-Isabelle is very reserved and private and she is not touchy-feely in the slightest.

“Merci beaucoup à toi, ma soeur,” Isabelle says. “Thank you with all my heart.”

“Oh, Isabelle, you’re welcome,” Jennifer says, closing her eyes. She’s filled with a warm syrupy feeling that’s a combination of pride and accomplishment and love. But then Jennifer opens her eyes and sees the black truck parked across the street.

It can’t be.

Is it?

Jennifer freezes. Norah Vale waves.

MARGARET

Margaret had hoped her frenetic schedule might calm down a bit after the election, but the short week before Thanksgiving is jam-packed with activity. Margaret and Ava leave Nantucket together the day after Isabelle’s bridal shower and head back to the city. Ava has interviews at four Manhattan private schools, three on Monday and one on Tuesday.

Ava, it seems, is moving to the city.

Margaret will not let herself get too excited, although it’s difficult. A piece of her has yearned for Ava’s daily presence since Kelley moved the three kids up to Nantucket twenty years earlier. Now, the joy of possibly having her daughter in the city on a permanent basis crowds out all other thoughts. It becomes all Margaret wants, and she has to keep herself from offering Ava the moon: She will buy Ava her own apartment! She will hire Ava a driver! She will pay Ava’s gym membership at Equinox. She and Ava will go to the theater every week and brunch at Le Bilboquet every Sunday. Margaret thinks back to when Paddy and Kevin were small and Ava just a baby and how drained she had felt, how shackled. All she had wished for was freedom to pursue her career. Then, when she did pursue her career, she was encumbered with debilitating guilt. It was the challenge of working mothers everywhere, she supposed: wanting to be in two places at once. Margaret had struggled to raise her children while still nurturing herself. Back then, Margaret could never have guessed that, when she was sixty-one, the people she would most want to spend time with-aside from Drake-would be her grown children.

Ava moving to the city is too much to hope for. It’s like an iridescent soap bubble-if Margaret touches it, it will pop. Ava may get to the city and find it noisy and overwhelming, chaotic and dirty, and run back to the safe, close-knit community of Nantucket, where she is a big fish in a small pond. Manhattan can be an intimidating place even when every door is open.

Margaret kisses Ava good-bye on Monday morning. Ava is wearing a blue-and-white DVF wrap dress and a pair of nude Manolo heels, both borrowed from Margaret. She looks beautiful and professional.

“Are you sure you don’t want Raoul to take you around?” Margaret asks. “He’s happy to do it. He’ll welcome the change.”

“I’m sure,” Ava says. “I can walk, and if it starts to rain, I’ll take a taxi.”

“Okay,” Margaret says. “We’ll see you at eight o’clock tonight at Café Cluny.”

“West Twelfth Street,” Ava says.

“Yes,” Margaret says. She picked that restaurant because it’s close to Drake’s apartment, and the plan is-if Ava moves to the city-she will live in Drake’s apartment until she saves enough money to get a place of her own. “But downtown can be confusing. If you want, you can meet me at the studio.”

“Mom,” Ava says. “Stop worrying about me. I’ll be fine.”

Ava looks better than fine at eight o’clock at Café Cluny. She is already seated when Drake and Margaret arrive. She has changed into jeans, boots, a shimmery top, and a suede fringed jacket.

“How did it go?” Margaret asks. Her heart is in her throat, and Drake squeezes her hand, which is probably a signal that she should moderate her tone. He knows how badly she wants this.

“It was amazing,” Ava says. “I already have verbal offers from two of the three schools.”

Yes! Margaret barely stifles a cheer.

Drake says, “This calls for a toast.”

AVA

She has never been one for princess fantasies, but her first day seeking a new life in New York makes her feel like Cinderella. She goes to interviews at three private schools, schools that might seem elitist to an outsider, but once Ava steps inside the hushed, rarefied atmosphere of learning, she is instantly converted. The commitment to music education and appreciation at all three schools is what Ava has dreamed of. At the first school, the Albany, there is a piano tuner kept on staff. Each of the three music conservatories contains a Steinway baby grand; there is live piano music for every level of ballet class. Ava is invited to sit down at one, and she can’t help showing off, playing the same Schubert impromptu that she played when she was trying to impress Nathaniel. At the second school, Bainbridge Academy, attendance at one full season of the New York Philharmonic is required for graduation. And at the final school, Copper Hill, which is more progressive, there is a bona fide recording studio where students can write and produce their own original songs.