Page 7 of The Quiet Rebuild

“I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you his room number. It is an invasion of privacy, and we do not do that to our guests. It’s our policy,” the woman said.

Taylor let out a sparkling laugh. “I understand that,” she said. “But Jason and I have been married a long time. We celebrated twenty years last year. I can show you photographs.”

“I do not need to see any photographs,” the woman said. “This is our policy. Please, call him if you like. Surprise him from here. But I cannot send you to his room.”

She then turned to the man working at the front desk beside her. She switched to French, presumably because she didn’t know that Taylor also spoke French. And she said, “That’s the American with the mistress, non? The Spanish mistress?”

Taylor kept her voice bright and chipper. In English, she said, “No, he’s married.” But even as she said it, she remembered that Jason’s costar was Spanish, that she was young and pretty and funny and alive, a rising star in all the ways Taylor never had been.

The concierge blinked at her, surprised that she understood French. “Ma’am, if you would please sit down and wait for your husband,” she said finally, pointing at the sofa to her right. “I am sure he will be with you soon.”

Taylor rolled her eyes and walked over to the waiting area, feeling miffed. “I can’t believe you won’t let me surprise my husband,” she muttered under her breath, folding her ankles beneath her. And like this, she resolved to wait for Jason to return from wherever he was. She knew that when he saw her, he would leap to her aid. He would wrap her in a hug, cover her with kisses, and make her understand that nothing was lost. It was all going to be all right.

4

It was autumn on Nantucket Island. Lindsey adored the colder temperatures, the changing leaves, and the fog over the water. She adored the way the tourists fled, leaving the boardwalk like a ghost town and all the restaurants and bars filled only with other Nantucketers, people she either already knew and loved or had yet to know and love. As the cozier season welcomed her, drawing her into warm sweaters and flannel sheets, she felt further and further from the past she’d run from. This was a good thing.

But one day in late October, Lindsey went for a run and returned to the Harbor House to find a large box on the porch. Her first instinct was that it was supplies for the Harbor House, maybe bedsheets or more kitchen utensils, things that Gwen and Candice seemed to be ordering for their springtime opening constantly. Lindsey prepared to drag the box inside and carry it into where Gwen and Candice were looking over spreadsheets and other money-related things. But then, she realized that the box was addressed to Lindsey Vanberg. It was for her.

Lindsey’s palms were sweaty from the run. She wiped them on her shorts and examined the box more closely. It didn’t take long to realize it was from her. Although there was no return address, Lindsey recognized it after a moment—she'd seen it on a few notes and cards over the years. It was Piper's. Shock went through her. She needed to get the box off the porch as soon as possible. She wanted to hide it—not only from herself, but from Candice, who would certainly have many questions.

Lindsey couldn’t believe she’d do this. How dare she? But she shoved thoughts of that aside, opened the door, and half dragged, half carried the box into the foyer. From here, she could hear Candice and Gwen talking in the next room. She needed to hurry. But she was exhausted from the run and from the emotion coursing through her, and by the time she got to her room, she was in tears. She shoved the box into the back of the closet and lay on the floor for a long time, allowing herself to cry.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself, her breath coming in spurts. “It’s okay. You’re in Nantucket. The pain is over. You’re through.”

Of course, she knew better than to believe that fully.

Lindsey had had beautiful plans for today. She’d wanted to help Candice and Gwen. She’d wanted to meet friends in town and try out a new restaurant. But now, she felt blown over. Rather than shower, rather than grab a snack or take care of herself, she looked at her phone for hours, reading through celebrity gossip and recipes she’d never try, trying to calm herself down.

The biggest news story of the moment was, of course, one that she was very invested in. Namely, toward the end of summer, after that horrible video had surfaced on a film set in Tokyo, Lindsey’s beloved Taylor Charron had been kicked off the B-movie she’d been starring in. The headlines read: “The Starlette’s Days are Through!” and “This Diva Has Been Shown the Door,” which were all ridiculous and undercut the true wonder of her previous celebrity. Also, Lindsey noted, everyone was fascinated with Taylor’s demise, without noting to themselves that the reason they were obsessed with her demise was that she was still far, far more famous than they ever would be.

Nobody knew what to do with their love for Taylor Charron. This was why they had to ridicule her.

The film had replaced her almost immediately with Taylor’s costar from her sitcom days, which couldn’t have felt very good for Taylor. It was the biggest disgrace of all. But that wasn’t all. After Taylor lost the film, the story was that she tried to go to Paris to join her husband, Jason Clapton. She’d gone to Paris without telling him and shown up at his hotel unannounced.

Apparently, Jason and his new girlfriend came back not long after she arrived, blindsiding her. Rather than yell at them, she got out as soon as she could. She left her suitcase at the hotel and went into the Paris night, where she drank too many glasses of wine at a swanky wine bar and made a fool of herself, asking everyone why Jason would sleep with someone else. “Why would he abandon me like that? Why would he make a fool of me like that?” she asked numerous wealthy and famous people, including a few actors who were also drinking at that wine bar.

In essence, it was she who made a fool of herself—not Jason, although Lindsey was still on Taylor’s side.

Eventually, after asking one too many famous people about her plight, Taylor was asked to leave.

Now, about two months after that, there were numerous speculations about where in the world Taylor Charron had wound up. Apparently, Jason had filed for divorce not long after the Paris incident, but it was said that Taylor was dealing with the divorce from abroad. Lindsey closed her eyes and tried to imagine where she was. Where would Lindsey go if she had a broken heart and all the money in the world? She pictured a tropical beach. She pictured somewhere where nobody knew her name.

But thinking of Taylor Charron and her awful heartache only brought Lindsey back to her own, which devastated her. She had to get out of her room. She had to get out of her own head. She took a long, hot shower, put her hair in a big towel, went to the kitchen, and poured herself a big glass of wine. By then, it was nine fifteen at night, and she’d worked herself into a tizzy.

How dare she send that box all the way to Nantucket? How dare she disrupt Lindsey’s life? Shaking, Lindsey tried to leave the kitchen, but she ran headfirst into Candice, who wanted to tell her all about the amazing work she and Gwen had done today. Lindsey could hardly hear her.

“Are you all right, Sis?” Candice asked when it was maybe clear that Lindsey wasn’t paying attention.

“I’m fine. Just exhausted. I ran seven miles today. Heading up to bed,” Lindsey said, before shuffling away and calling out behind her. “Love you! Good night!”

But upstairs, Lindsey was nowhere near tired. She paced the floor in front of the closet, where she’d hidden the box. She needed to open it. She also was too frightened ever to open it. Maybe she needed someone to take it away from here and hide it until Lindsey was ready to deal with it. Maybe she never would be.

This couldn’t be happening. She’d come to Nantucket and stayed in Nantucket specifically to keep something like this from happening. But her past had followed her here.

It felt cruel.

Before she knew what she was doing, before she’d fully thought it through, she dialed her number. It rang and rang, across the East Coast and all the way south, across the water, across the islands, across time. Just when Lindsey was sure she wouldn’t answer, she heard her little venomous voice.