Elin Hilderbrand - Barefoot

ALSO BY ELIN HILDERBRAND

The Beach Club

Nantucket Nights

Summer People

The Blue Bistro

The Love Season

For Heather Osteen Thorpe: in honor of the dollhouse, the roller-skating shows, the Peanut Butter and Jelly Theater, the Wawa parties, and now, six kids between us. You are the best sister-friend a woman could ask for.

JUNE

T hree women step off of a plane. It sounded like the start of a joke.

Joshua Flynn, age twenty-two, native of Nantucket Island, senior at Middlebury College, summer employee of the Nantucket Memorial Airport, where his father was an air traffic controller, noticed the women immediately. They arrived on a US Airways flight from LaGuardia. Three women, two small children, nothing unusual about that, so what caught Joshs eye? Josh Flynn was a creative-writing student at Middlebury, and his mentor, the writer-in-residence, Chas Gorda, liked to say that a writer smells a good story in the air like its an approaching storm. The hair on your arms will stand up, Chas Gorda promised. Josh checked his forearmsnothingand tugged at his fluorescent orange vest. He approached the plane to help Carlo unload the luggage. Joshs father, Tom Flynn, would be at a computer terminal five stories above Joshs head, occasionally spying out the window to make sure Josh was doing what he called a decent job. Being under surveillance like this provided as unsettling a work situation as Josh could imagine, and so in the two weeks hed been at it, hed learned to sniff for stories without giving himself away.

Two of the women stood on the tarmac. Josh could tell they were sisters. Sister One was very thin with long light-brown hair that blew all over the place in the breeze; she had a pointy nose, blue eyes, and she was visibly unhappy. Her forehead was as scrunched and wrinkled as one of those funny Chinese dogs. Sister Two had the same blue eyes, the same sharp nose, but instead of scowling, Sister Twos face conveyed baffled sadness. She blinked a lot, like she was about to cry. She was heavier than her sister, and her hair, cut bluntly to her shoulders, was a Scandinavian blond. She carried a floral-print bag bursting with diapers and a colorful set of plastic keys; she was taking deep, exaggerated breaths, as though the flight had just scared her to death.

The third woman teetered at the top of the steps with a baby in her arms and a little boy of about four peeking around her legs. She had a pretty, round face and corkscrew curls that peeked out from underneath a straw hat. She was wearing jeans with muddy knees and a pair of rubber clogs.

The sisters waited at the bottom of the stairs for this third woman to descend. Heavy-breathing Sister reached out for the baby, shaking the keys. Come to Mama, she said. Here, Melanie, Ill take him. In addition to the baby, Straw Hat held a package of Cheez-Its, a green plastic cup, and an air-sickness bag. She was two steps from the ground when the little boy behind her shouted, Auntie Brenda, here I come!

And jumped.

He was aiming for Scowling Sister, but in his excitement, he hurtled his forty-some pound body into the back of Straw Hat, who went sprawling onto the tarmac with the baby. Josh bolted forwardthough he knew he wouldnt be quick enough to save anyone. Straw Hat covered the babys head with her hands and took the brunt of the fall on her knees and her left arm. Ouch.

Melanie! Heavy-breathing Sister cried. She dropped the diaper bag and raced toward Straw Hat. The baby wasnt making any noise. Neck broken. Dead. Josh felt his spirit trickle onto the tarmac as though hed wet his pants. But thena cry! The baby had merely been sucking in air, released now in heroic tones. The baby was alive! Heavy-breathing Sister took the baby and studied him for obvious injury, then shushed him against her shoulder. Scowling Sister approached with the perpetrator of the crime, older brother, clinging to her legs.

Is the baby okay? Scowling Sister asked. Her expression shifted from impatient to impatient and concerned.

Hes fine, Heavy-breathing Sister said. Just scared. She reached out to Straw Hat. Are you okay, Melanie? Are you okay? Do you feel okay?

Melanie dusted the tarmac grit off her face; there was a scrape on her elbow, some blood. The Cheez-Its blew off down the runway; the plastic cup rolled to Joshs feet. He picked it up, and the air-sickness bag as well.

Would you like me to get a first-aid kit? he asked Melanie.

She put a hand to her cheek, and the other hand massaged her stomach. Oh, no. Thank you, though. Im fine.

Are you sure? Heavy-breathing Sister said. What about... ?

Im fine, Melanie said.

Blaine will apologize, Heavy-breathing Sister said. Apologize, Blaine.

Sorry, the boy mumbled.

You could have hurt your brother. You could have hurt Melanie. You just cant do things like that, sweetheart. You have to be careful.

He said he was sorry, Vick, Scowling Sister said.

This was not joke material. The three women, collectively, were the most miserable-looking people Josh had ever seen.

Welcome to Nantucket, Josh said, hoping his words might cheer them, though Carlo was always reminding him that he was not an ambassador. He should just tend to the bags; his father would be watching.

Scowling Sister rolled her eyes. Thanks a lot, she said.

They should have driven to the island, Brenda thought as they climbed into a cab outside the terminal. She had been coming to Nantucket her entire life and they always drove, and then put the car on the ferry. This year, because of the kids and Vickis cancer and a desire to get to Nantucket as expediently as possible no matter what the cost, they had flown. They shouldnt have broken with tradition in Brendas opinion, because look what happenedthey were off to a horrible start already. Melanie had vomited the whole flight; then she fell, giving Vicki something else to worry about. The whole point of the summer was to help Vicki relax, to soothe her, to ease the sickness from her body. Thats the point, Melanie! Now, Melanie was sitting behind Brenda in the cab with her eyes closed. Vicki had invited Melanie to Nantucket for the summer because Melanie had problems. She was dealing with a complicated situation back in Connecticut. But it was also the case that Brendas company alone had never been enough for Vicki. All their lives, all through growing upwhether it was camping trips, nights at the summer carnival, or church on SundayVicki had brought a friend.

This summer it was Melanie Patchen. The news that Melanie would be joining them was sprung on Brenda at the last minute, giving her no opportunity to protest. During the limousine ride from Darien to LaGuardia, Brenda had heard about the complicated situation: Melanie and her husband, Peter Patchen, had been trying forever to get pregnant; they had, in the past calendar year, endured seven failed rounds of in vitro fertilization. Then, a few weeks ago, Peter admitted he was having an affair with a young woman from his office named Frances Digitt. Melanie was devastated. She was so upset she made herself sickshe couldnt keep food down, she took to her bed. Then she missed her period. She was pregnantand the complicated part of her situation was that she had left Connecticut without telling her husband that she was leaving, and without telling him she was pregnant. She was stealing away with Vicki and Brenda and the kids because she needed time to think. Time away.

Brenda had taken in this information silently but skeptically. The last thing she and Vicki needed this summer was a stowaway from a complicated situation. Vicki had lung cancer, and Brenda had problems of her own. Earlier that spring, she had been fired from her teaching job at Champion University for sleeping with her only male studentand, as if that werent catastrophic enough, there were unrelated criminal charges pending, concerning a valuable piece of university-owned art.