November 1, 1984
Boston, Massachusetts
Ashlyn couldn’t help feeling awed as she and Ethan stepped into the lobby of the Parker House Hotel. She had visited before. Not as an actual guest but as a sightseer, hoping to soak up some of the rarified air. Strolling through the lobby, with its coffered ceilings and gleaming chandeliers, was like stepping into another time, but it was the history of the place that she truly loved.
Built in 1855, the Parker House had once been home to the Saturday Club, hosting the likes of Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and Oliver Wendell Holmes. Other notable guests included Charles Dickens, who had resided at the hotel for five months in 1867, and the villainous John Wilkes Boothe just two years prior.
There were rumors that the hotel was haunted, particularly the tenth floor. The hotel cheerfully embraced this part of its lore and was said to keep a registry of alleged spectral events for interested guests. Ashlyn found the idea charming. If books had echoes, why not buildings? Chairs? Tables? Lamps?
She liked to think that Dickens and Wadsworth might be chatting in some quiet corner, bickering over an obscure bit of literary minutiae. Or lingering over a glass of port in the bar, which had once been a library said to contain more than three thousand books. But tonight, she and Ethan would be dining with the latest recipient of the Children’s Welfare Network Lifetime Achievement Award.
The hostess informed them that the rest of their party had already been seated and offered to show them to their table. Ashlyn spotted Marian immediately, seated with a tall blonde and a trio of fidgeting little girls.
“Mila, Dalia, and Lida,” Ashlyn whispered to Ethan. “I’m pretty sure Mila is the oldest.”
Ethan gave her hand a squeeze. “Got it. Thanks.”
Marian’s face lit up when she saw them approach. She leaned toward Mila to whisper something, who then whispered something to the other girls, who immediately stopped fidgeting and sat up straight. Ashlyn felt a twinge of nerves when they finally arrived at the table, as if she had just arrived for a job interview.
“Ethan, Ashlyn,” Marian said when they had settled themselves in the two empty chairs. “I’m so glad you could come. This is my daughter, Ilese. Girls, this is my nephew’s son and your cousin, Ethan, and his girlfriend, Ashlyn.”
Ashlyn ducked her head shyly. She hadn’t thought about how she might be introduced, but found she rather liked being referred to as Ethan’s girlfriend. She nodded at the girls, who were staring at her with wide, curious eyes. “It’s especially nice to meet the three of you. Your grandmother has told me a lot about you.”
“Only the good bits, though,” Marian whispered, sending the girls into a chorus of giggles.
Ilese was sizing them up with pale gray eyes, reminding Ashlyn of a photo Ethan had shown her of a very serious girl with a sharp face and a brash expression. She’d changed surprisingly little since it was taken. Her face was still sharp and triangular, her gaze guarded. And why not? They had appeared out of nowhere, inserting themselves into Marian’s cozy and well-brought-up family. A little wariness wasn’t unreasonable.
“My mother tells me you own a rare-book shop in Portsmouth,” she said to Ashlyn. “And that you and Ethan met because of some old books he found in Dickey’s library.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Ashlyn saw Marian’s shoulders tense. Apparently, Ilese didn’t know about the books. “That’s right,” Ashlyn replied smoothly. “Ethan ran across a few obscure titles while he was clearing space on his father’s shelves and they ended up in my hands.”
“I’m fascinated by old books. Anything interesting?”
“Not to anyone but the authors,” Ashlyn answered and saw Marian’s shoulders relax.
“That’s too bad. It would have been fun, wouldn’t it? To stumble onto some long-lost book by a famous author. Tolstoy or Trollope or someone. You hear about it happening.” She turned to Ethan then. “It was sweet of you to track Mom down to return those old letters. Zachary called to tell me he’d heard from you. He wasn’t sure you were legit at first. Then he remembered you from that time we stayed with your parents and decided it was okay. She was awfully fond of Dickey. She says you teach at UNH like he did and that you’ve already written two books. Pretty impressive for someone your age.”
Ethan smiled sheepishly. “Not as impressive as it sounds, but thanks.”
With the ice broken, the conversation flowed with surprising ease, covering a wide variety of topics, including Ethan’s current work in progress, Ilese’s ongoing quest for tenure, and the glowing reviews that had come in after Zachary’s recent European tour.
By the time their server arrived with coffee and the Parker House’s world-famous Boston cream pie, Ilese was bragging about her mother’s nonprofit and the work she continued to do on behalf of war-orphaned children.
Marian was clearly embarrassed by her daughter’s praise. “I do wish you’d stop, Ilese. You’re boring Ashlyn and Ethan to death.”
“On the contrary,” Ashlyn corrected, and she meant it. The more she learned about Marian, the more impressed she was. “It’s easy to see why they’re giving you that award tomorrow night. You have so much to be proud of.”
“I’ve been very lucky in my life,” Marian said, beaming at her daughter and the girls. “I was born into the kind of privilege most people never know. I walked away from most of it, but not all. There was some money when my mother died. Money my father couldn’t touch. It gave me certain . . . freedoms. I was able to pursue the work that was important to me and give my children the kind of life I wanted them to have. But mostly, I’ve been blessed to have such wonderful children. They’re both so bright and so talented. And they were such troupers growing up. I dragged them around quite a lot when they were young. I yanked them away from their friends in California to live on a wreck of a vineyard in Bergerac. They had to learn French so they could attend school. And then, just when they’d fallen in love with farm life and their French cousins, I dragged them back here.”
“Yes!” Ilese interjected with a laugh. “You brought us to Marblehead, to that big drafty house. We thought we’d freeze to death that first winter. But then summer came and we learned to swim and sail and dig for clams, and we knew we’d come home. The girls love it too. They can’t wait to get back this summer. They’re all going to be in Uncle Zachary’s wedding, and they’re over the moon about it, aren’t you, my darlings?”
The girls barely acknowledged their mother’s question. That it was well past their bedtime was evident. Lida was heavy-eyed and sullen, and Dalia and Mila were squabbling over the last bite of dessert.
“I wish Zachary could have made it this weekend,” Marian said as she signed the dinner check and closed it back up in its little leather folder. “Not for the award dinner but for tonight. It would have been nice for him to meet you in person, but he’s just back from tour and doesn’t dare take more time away. I wish he lived closer. I so hoped he’d end up here in Boston.” She smiled sadly. “I miss his face.”