Winter Storms (13 page)

“Inspired!” Ava says. She grins at Jennifer. “I'm never getting married, but if I do, I want you to plan my shower.”

It is one of the most convivial and relaxed evenings Jen
nifer has had in a long, long time. The service at Le Languedoc
is seamless, the food sublime. Isabelle is thrilled with the escargot and the steak-frites. Jennifer orders the chopped salad and the pan-roasted lobster over soft polenta, which she can't finish and so decides to take it home for Patrick. He'll be thrilled. They drink one magnum of champagne and order a second. Jennifer had worried about the triumvirate of Margaret, Mitzi, and Mary Rose, but the three of them chat away like sorority sisters. Mitzi is in surprisingly good spirits, considering Thanksgiving is only a week away and Bart still isn't home. Mary Rose fits into the group easily; they might as well start calling her Aunt Mary Rose.

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.

 

M
argaret 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 Man
hattan 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.”

 

S
he 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.

The headmasters at all three schools seem captivated by Ava and she wonders if they know she's Margaret Quinn's daughter. If so, they don't mention it. They are far too discreet and sophisticated, and in this stratum of New York, everyone rubs elbows with the famous all the time. Sophia Loren's granddaughter goes to the Albany, and Bainbridge Academy has the children of Broadway stars, bestselling novelists, and two starting linemen for the New York Giants. The headmasters seem intrigued by Ava's teaching career on Nantucket. It's such a small district, so far out to sea.
What is it like?
they ask.
Aren't you isolated?
Ava starts to feel as though she's been teaching in Never-Never Land and has only now decided to join the real world.

Her observation notes are excellent, the headmaster at the Albany tells her. Her recommendations are positively glowing. The Albany would like to hire her. The same is
true at Bainbridge Academy—and the salaries at both
schools are considerably higher than what she presently makes. At Copper Hill, where Ava would be overseeing the entire music department—including band, orchestra, choir, two madrigal groups, two a cappella groups, and the musical theater program—the process is longer and more involved. The headmistress at Copper Hill says she would like Ava to come back the next day to meet with the selection committee.

Ava has an interview scheduled at the Raleigh-Dawes School on the East Side at ten o'clock the next morning but after her last interview today, she decides to cancel. She wants the job at Copper Hill more than she has ever wanted anything in her life. It's a huge, challenging position where she would run a department, manage a budget, and encourage a philosophy of living a life steeped in the arts! It is so much bigger than her classroom job at Nantucket Elementary School that she feels intimidated. But also energized! This is a career. A career for Ava Quinn!

She expresses her fervent wish to her mother and Drake over dinner at Café Cluny.

“Copper Hill?” Margaret says. “On West Seventieth?”

Ava nods as she dives into her Cluny burger. This place is adorable and the food is delicious, and Ava is pretty sure Darcy picked it out when Margaret told her she needed somewhere that would make Ava feel excited about moving to New York. It does boggle Ava's mind how great this restaurant is, but there are thirty others just as good in a ten-block radius. The variety! The choices! Ava can't believe how long it's taken for her to realize what she's been missing.

“Lee and Ginny Kramer's children go to Copper Hill,” Margaret says. “I'm sorry, I heard you say the names of the schools but I didn't put two and two together until just this second.”

“Oh,” Drake says, raising his eyebrows. “Does Lee sit on the board?”

Margaret laughs. “He hardly has time. And Ginny is even busier than Lee is. But…”

“No,” Ava says. “Don't.” She doesn't want any help from the head of CBS and the editor of
Vogue,
although a phone call from either one would no doubt do the trick. “I want to get this job on my own merits.”

Drake plucks a frite from Margaret's plate. “Good for you,” he says.

On the way to her second Copper Hill interview in the morning, Ava stops at Holy Trinity and lights a candle for Bart.
Is any act truly selfless?
she wonders. She aches for Bart's return as keenly as she ever has, but now there's even more at stake. She's likely going to leave Nantucket. Move out of the inn. Kelley and Mitzi will have an empty nest and Ava isn't sure they can handle that.

Ava is wearing a winter-white dress with black trim and black lace Manolo Blahniks—both her mother's. She loves dressing up for work and never gets the chance; she would sooner wear roller skates to Nantucket Elementary than heels. The only teacher in the district who wears heels is… Roxanne Oliveria.

Ava can't think about Roxanne right now. Here she goes!

She knocks the interview out of the park. She pauses and considers before every answer; she is funny, self-effacing, knowledgeable. She draws on her classical training at Peabody, her love of the piano, her practical experience with musical theater. (She directed
The King and I, Pippin
, and
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
at the high school.) She sings a few bars from
Godspell
. Why not? And when they ask if she has anything to add, she says: “My father moved us from Manhattan to Nantucket when I was nine years old. My mother stayed in New York to pursue her career.” Pause. She nearly said
her career in broadcasting
but then thought better of it. “My father wanted to raise us in a small, close-knit community where we didn't have to lock our cars, where we knew our neighbors, where we could ride our bikes to school. I love those aspects of Nantucket and I also love the way the island expands socially and intellectually in the summer. But I'm ready to grow beyond the confines of Nantucket. On a personal level, I am unencumbered—no husband, no children—so there is nothing and no one to stop me from getting some air under these wings. I am so excited by the opportunity to lead the music department at Copper Hill. You may have candidates who are more qualified, but you don't have anyone who will give this position more of him- or herself than me.”