In the car on the way to the airport, Kevin tells Kelley about seeing Norah the night before. “I don’t know why I talked to her. I should have just walked away.”
“Well, you and Norah share quite a lot of history,” Kelley says.
“Yeah,” Kevin says.
“You grew up together,” Kelley says. “I think it’s natural that you would have been drawn to her.”
“I wasn’t drawn to her,” Kevin says. But he had been drawn to her. Isabelle probably saw it written all over Kevin’s face-and that was why she left. “I hate Norah.”
“Hate is a strong word,” Kelley says. “Although she wasn’t a great influence. You quit the trumpet, your grades dropped, you started working at the Bar. Your mother wanted to step in and have what would now be called an intervention, but she felt too guilty for staying in New York and I felt too guilty for moving you to Nantucket. And in her own way, Norah made you happy. You were friends. Inseparable.” Kelley leans back against the seat. “I do not feel well.”
“You look awful,” Kevin says.
“Oh yeah?” Kelley says, perking up. “Well, so do you.”
Kevin’s phone rings. It’s his mother. “They’re not at the Hy-Line and they’re not at the Steamship,” she says. “I got the woman at the Hy-Line to check the passenger list, even. She made an exception because she recognized me.”
“Okay,” Kevin says. His heart is dying; any minute now, it will stop beating. His baby girl. And Isabelle, the person who changed his life, made it worthwhile. He may have grown up with Norah, but it was Isabelle who finally turned him into a man. “Well, if she’s not at the boat, then she must be at the airport.”
“Let’s hope,” Margaret says.
Nantucket Memorial Airport is mobbed with people who have had their Christmas Stroll fun and are now headed back to Boston, New York, and beyond. Kelley and Kevin split up-Kelley goes to the right to check the Crosswinds Restaurant. Kevin heads to the local airline desk, the whole time scanning the crowd. He doesn’t see Isabelle and Genevieve anywhere. At the Island Air desk, he asks Pamela, the gate agent, if she’s seen them. He’s known Pamela for over twenty years and the woman cannot keep a secret. She tells Kevin straight out: she hasn’t booked Isabelle and the baby on any of her morning flights.
The agent at JetBlue doesn’t want to confirm or deny the identity of any of her passengers, but something in Kevin’s face must tug at her heartstrings because she does check. No Isabelle Beaulieu.
Kevin checks at the Cape Air desk. The woman working there says she’s had three flights leave for Boston and one for Providence already that morning, but unless Kevin has a subpoena, she can’t tell him whether Isabelle and Genevieve were passengers.
He has a feeling from the way this woman is looking at him that Isabelle and Genevieve were passengers. Isabelle has flown to Boston, which makes sense; if Kevin were trying to get away as expediently as possible, that’s what he would have done as well.
Kevin is pacing in front of the Cape Air desk when Kelley approaches. The woman has told Kevin that the next available seat on a flight to Boston isn’t until two thirty that afternoon.
Kelley says, “Have you learned anything?”
“My gut tells me she flew to Boston,” Kevin says. “Or maybe I’m just overtired. What do I do, Dad? Should I fly to Boston this afternoon? But what if I get to Logan and she’s not there?”
Kelley checks his watch. “For starters, we need to cancel the baptism. We should let Father Bouchard know, and we should alert everyone else we invited. I’ll cancel lunch at the Sea Grille.”
At this, Kevin sits down on the floor and starts to cry. He’s exhausted and he’s still in his blasted tuxedo; he realizes that the people around him must think he’s having a nervous breakdown. He doesn’t care. Today was supposed to be one of the best days of his life, but instead it’s a shipwreck and it’s all his fault. Not Norah’s fault. It’s Kevin’s fault. He can’t seem to get anything right.
Kelley sits down on the floor next to Kevin and grabs hold of his forearm. “Let’s go home for now, son. Maybe Isabelle came to her senses and went back to the inn.”
Kevin doesn’t have the energy to argue. He’ll go home, and if Isabelle isn’t there, he’ll take the two-thirty flight to Boston. He stands, and helps Kelley to his feet. It’s a good father who will get down on the floor with you in your time of need, Kevin thinks. Kelley has always been this kind of dad, setting an excellent example. Kevin wants to be just like him.
In the parking lot, Kelley’s phone rings. He checks the display. “Oh, for crying out loud,” he says. “It’s George. That guy will not leave me alone.”
“Answer it!” Kevin shouts.
GEORGE
When, at midnight, Mitzi still hasn’t returned to their hotel room, George decides to take Mary Rose up on her sweet-if slightly desperate-offer of a “nightcap” in her room. It’s beneath him, he feels, to betray Mitzi this way, but this entire weekend has proved to George that he never should have gotten involved with the Quinn family in the first place. For years, he had served as their Santa Claus, and as Mitzi’s once-a-year intimate friend; he should have left it at that. The Quinns are as crazy as Larry, and George wants nothing more to do with them.
Turns out, Mary Rose does have a nice bottle of Johnnie Walker Black in her room, and she pours two fingers for herself and three fingers for George. They touch glasses.
“Cheers, Big Ears,” she says.
This is the last thing George remembers. He wakes up in his clothes on top of the duvet of Mary Rose’s bed while Mary Rose snores softly under the covers. He sees one of her bare freckled shoulders and tries to feel enough desire to wake her up and prove himself.
But he’s too old to prove himself; without Viagra, he’s a limp noodle, and he doesn’t belong here, anyway. Gently, quietly, he rises from bed and slithers out the door.
He checks his watch. It’s seven o’clock. He wonders if he will see Mitzi this morning. She will want the dress she brought for the baptism. Or, maybe she won’t. Maybe she’ll borrow a Chanel suit from Margaret.
He’s two doors away from his room when he hears a baby crying. It sounds like the wail of an infant. George stops outside the door. He waits, listens. He hears the mother murmuring to the baby. It could be anyone, George thinks. Lots of visitors to Nantucket have babies. George should move on; he’d like an hour or two more of sleep, and he could do with some aspirin.
He inches closer to the door. He presses his ear against it. The words the mother is saying aren’t making any sense.
The mother is speaking in French.
George knocks. Then, he chastises himself. Not two minutes earlier, he vowed to be done with the Quinns, and now here he is, inserting himself squarely in the middle of their business. But it’s exciting, too. George feels like Telly Savalas; all he needs is a lollipop. Who loves ya, baby?
He, George Umbrau, has found the missing persons.
Isabelle, no doubt, checks through the peephole, and she opens the door anyway.
“George,” she says. “Bonjour.”
“Bonjour,” George says. He loves the sound of the French language, and he has always loved French women. Isabelle is absolutely stunning, even at this ungodly hour. She’s wearing jeans and a pink hooded cashmere sweater and her blond hair is braided. She’s holding the baby.
“Kevin is looking for you,” George says. “He’s very worried.”
Isabelle nods once, curtly. “Oui,” she says. “I’m sure.”
“You two had a fight?” George asks. “An argument?”