“Is ‘anality’ a word?” Ava asks. Kevin has loaded the jukebox with all her favorite holiday songs. Right now, the Boss is singing “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.”
“If it’s not, it should be,” Kevin says. “With a photo of Jen right next to it. I know that’s what you were thinking.”
Kevin is the greatest guy on earth, Ava decides. They used to fight when they were younger, which Ava always understood to be a scramble for second place. Patrick always claimed first place.
“How can you tell if two people are made for each other?” Ava asks. She has moved on from anality to deep philosophy. Kevin survived Norah Vale, and this gives him a certain authority when it comes to love and relationships. “What’s the criteria, in your opinion?”
Kevin leans his elbows on the bar, dirty rag slung over his shoulder. His hair is a brighter shade of red than she remembers from when she saw him this morning; his freckles are more pronounced. A string of colored lights twinkles overhead. The Kinks sing “Father Christmas.”
He says, “Not sure. But Patrick and Jen meet the criteria, whatever it is.”
“What about me and Nathaniel?” Ava asks, then hates herself.
“Nathaniel’s a good guy,” Kevin says. He heads to the end of the bar to get another round for the two construction workers who are the only other people in the place. Why aren’t there more people here? Ava wonders. Because everyone else is Christmas shopping, or they are, like Nathaniel, headed south on I-95 in order to celebrate the holidays in the homes they grew up in, and drink beer in the backseats of cars with the girls they lost their virginities to.
Ava feels a scream coming on.
She misses her mother.
She should go to Hawaii with Margaret, she thinks. Four Seasons Maui. Last year, her mother spent all day in a chaise longue by the pool, next to Bob Seger. He knew who Margaret was, but she thought he was just some old hippie dude from Detroit until the end of their conversation, when he introduced himself and Margaret asked him to sign a cocktail napkin for Ava.
Nathaniel is a good guy, but Kevin’s answer seems to indicate that he does not necessarily think Nathaniel and Ava are made for each other.
Before Ava can ask him or herself why not, someone pulls up a bar stool next to her and says, “Hey, Ava.”
Ava turns. It’s Scott Skyler.
“Hey,” she says. “I thought you were serving dinner at Our Island Home.”
“I finished,” Scott says. “I was driving home and saw your Jeep, so I thought I’d come in and have one with you.”
“You finished?” Ava says. “What time is it?”
“Quarter to eight,” Scott says.
“Whoa!” Ava says, and she jumps backward off her stool. Where did the afternoon go? She sways on her feet. The Barenaked Ladies are singing “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.” Kevin leaves the construction workers, then drops a Bud Light in front of Scott, and they execute some kind of complicated handshake.
“Ava?” he says. “Another?”
“It’s almost eight o’clock!” she says. “I have to get home!”
“You’re not driving,” Kevin says. “Sorry, sis.”
She’s about to protest, but she knows he’s right.
Scott stands up. “I’ll drive you home.”
“No,” she says. “You stay and enjoy your drink. I’ll… walk.”
“Walk home?” Kevin says. “No, no, and no.”
“I’ll take you,” Scott says. “I didn’t want a beer, anyway. I just wanted to see you.”
Ava puts on her coat and dutifully follows Scott out to the parking lot. She can feel her phone vibrating in her purse, but she doesn’t check it. She hopes it’s Nathaniel, she hopes he understands she’s hurt that he left the island without saying good-bye or Merry Christmas. He prides himself on his freedom and spontaneity, his ability to fly by the seat of his pants. But Ava wishes he felt more of a sense of commitment to her. She wishes that, since it’s Christmas, he’d had a bit more foresight. Just twenty-four hours earlier, he cooked her dinner at his cottage, as he did every Monday night in football season, so they could watch the game together. He made white chili and corn muffins, and tapioca pudding, because it’s Ava’s favorite dessert from childhood. The evening had been wonderful, just like every evening with Nathaniel. But if Ava had known he was leaving today, she would have suggested they exchange presents, or do something else to mark the holiday together.
Did Nathaniel not think of these things because he was male, and therefore oblivious? Or did she just not matter to him? He had made her tapioca pudding, and then, at halftime, he threw her over his shoulder and carried her into his bedroom, where he devoured her like a starving man. So he did love her. But then today, he just left-either because his mother’s entreaties got to him, or because Kirsten Cabot sent another message on Facebook too enticing to resist.
Ava emits a long, loud, confused sigh, which Scott ignores. He takes her arm and gently helps her up into the passenger seat of his Explorer.
She shivers in her seat until Scott starts the engine and cranks the heater. I just wanted to see you. There isn’t any ambiguity where Scott Skyler’s feelings are concerned. He likes her, he has always liked her, but he has accepted the role of best friend, and for that, Ava is grateful.
“I hate ‘Jingle Bells,’ ” she says. “I’ve always hated it.”
“Yeah,” Scott says. “Me too.”
DECEMBER 24
KEVIN
It’s twenty after one in the morning when Isabelle pulls up behind the Bar in her little Ford pickup, a vehicle that has come to define her. Kevin sees the maroon Ranger through the back window, and his blood quickens.
Isabelle has never swung by the Bar to see him before; she’s always been convinced it’s “trop dangereux,” that someone might “découvrir”-find out they’re seeing each other. Since their relationship began six months ago, Isabelle has been dead set on absolute secrecy, as though they’re involved in international espionage. She’s convinced that if Kelley and Mitzi find out, they’ll fire her. They hired her to teach them French (which she’s failed miserably at, but only because Kelley and Mitzi are too busy to learn) and to run the daily operations of the inn (which means cleaning the rooms, doing laundry, and cooking), but if she loses her job, it’s back to France-specifically, Montpellier, where her father is unemployed and her mother is depressed.
Montpellier isn’t Paris and it’s not the Riviera, it’s not cafés and cobblestone streets and fat chefs and friendly dogs. It’s a city, she says, like New Haven, but without Yale. Like Hartford, but without insurance. (The only place in the U.S. that Isabelle has visited other than Nantucket is Connecticut.) She came to the States to work as an au pair for a family named the Salingers, in Glastonbury, and they brought her to Nantucket for the summer. She loved the island so much that when her time with the Salingers was over, she returned, even though her visa had expired. She originally got a job cleaning houses for a Brazilian woman, but then she met Mitzi at yoga class, and Mitzi-who had a soft spot for orphans and strays-invited Isabelle home and gave her a better job and a room at the inn.
Isabelle and Kevin are madly in love-madly! For Kevin, it’s difficult to keep the secret; he doesn’t see the point. He has explained to Isabelle a hundred times that his parents will be happy for them, and especially for him, Kevin, who has had such lousy luck with love.
It’s a good sign that Isabelle feels safe enough to show up at the Bar tonight. Of course, in the past twenty-four hours, everything has changed.