Was Vivi.
Brett says, “It’s none of my business. I’m sorry I asked. Vivi never cared about money when I knew her.”
Willa feels the tension in her neck ease a little, but now she urgently has to use the bathroom.
Brett whistles as they cross the bridge over Madaket Harbor. “Pretty out here.”
“I should probably warn you that my house is extremely small,” Willa says.
“My apartment in Knoxville is small,” Brett says. “Only four hundred and fifty square feet, but it’s just me. It does have a view of the river, though, so I can’t complain.”
Willa is now uncomfortable because Wee Bit is only her summer house.
When they pull up to the split-rail fence and Brett sees Wee Bit, he laughs. “That is small! I think that’s one of the smallest houses I’ve ever seen.”
“We have a deck out back with a view of the ocean,” Willa says. “Why don’t you go around the side? I just have to use the bathroom.”
When Willa comes out onto the deck, Brett is gazing over the dunes at the water.
“I like thinking your mom ended up somewhere so beautiful,” he says. “Your mom was special.”
“Tell me about when you knew her.”
Brett is a good storyteller, maybe as good as Vivi. He tells Willa that he and Vivi met while he was in detention and she was making up a quiz in calculus.
“She was a very smart kid and I was a very bad kid,” Brett says. “I used to smoke in the bathrooms and in the breezeway; I was into my music. I played in this band called Escape from Ohio.”
Willa barks out a laugh.
“I knew who your mom was. She wasn’t popular but she was very, very pretty and our freshman year, my locker was right across the hall from hers so I’d see your mom every day. She had long hair like yours and she’d braid it or put it in a ponytail or she’d wear it in a headband. I checked every day to see how your mom fixed her hair. Then I sort of forgot about her for a couple of years until she turned up in my detention. And I thought, This is my chance and I’m not going to blow it. So I asked if I could give her a ride home.”
“What did she say?”
“She said okay. Honestly, Willa, that surprised the hell out of me because socially, there was a very wide gulf between your mom and me. She was a goody-goody, a nerd, like you said on the phone, and I was a druggie. All I ever did was smoke cigarettes—and weed if it was offered to me. But you know what your mom and I did? We built a bridge. I started paying more attention to school. I played guitar in the pit orchestra for the high-school musical, and your mom loosened up a little, she bought some cute jeans and a pair of Chucks. She got the top of her ear pierced, and she came to my band practices in my buddy Wayne’s garage.”
“Did you know her parents? My grandparents?” Grandparents are something of a mystery to Willa. She has only ever had one: Lucinda. Lucinda is fine, though she has her own busy life both here on Nantucket and back in Manhattan, and she has never really paid attention to her grandchildren except as something to present to her friends at the Field and Oar Club. Willa longs for a kindly, white-haired grandfather who smokes a pipe and pulls nickels out of his ears.
“I knew Nancy a little,” Brett says, shaking his head. “Tough woman. And I met Frank once before he died.”
“You did? You met my grandfather?” Of Willa’s three dead grandparents, the one she’s most curious about is Vivi’s father, Frank Howe. The one who killed himself.
“He and Vivi had a standing breakfast date. Every Saturday, they went to the Perkins in Middleburg Heights. They never missed a week. So when Vivi and I started dating, I asked if I could join them. At first Vivi said no, it was their thing. Then she changed her mind and decided she wanted me to meet her dad without her mom around. I hadn’t met Nancy yet at that point. I used to pick your mom up and drop her off at the corner down from her house. It was pretty clear she hadn’t told her parents we were dating, but that didn’t bother me, I knew she was out of my league. I was just happy she liked me back.”
“So you went to breakfast?”
“Yep, I can remember it like it was yesterday. Your mom and grandpa always sat in the same booth and had the same waitress, and they’d order everything on the menu: French toast and omelets and sides of bacon and sausage. I remember I had the chocolate chip pancakes with a side of hash browns. Her dad asked me about my music. He sang in a barbershop quartet.”