“Jessica!” Richard says. “Carrie is talking to you.”
Jessica shrugs, and Carrie looks at Richard helplessly.
“How are those pancakes?” Carrie tries again. “I love the smiley face,” although this was a lie. She doesn’t quite understand why a thirteen-year-old is ordering the chocolate-chip smiley-face pancakes from the children’s menu, nor does she understand why she holds her father’s hand throughout the entire meal, only letting go when Richard laughingly points out that he won’t be able to eat the French toast without his right hand.
The day before, when Jessica had refused to go to Belucci’s for lunch, Richard had watched her tantrum in the car, and honestly didn’t know what to do about it. Where was his lovely, happy, smiling daughter? Who was this evil, screaming being who couldn’t be consoled?
“Fine!” he’d eventually snapped, grabbing his cell phone and stepping out of the car, slamming the door behind him.
“I’m so sorry,” he’d said to Carrie, hating that he was disappointing her. “We’re going to have to try to reschedule. Jess is just melting down. I can’t do this to the poor kid. I’ll call you later.”
He’d finished the phone call and turned to see Jessica smiling brightly as she sat there, her window wide open as he said good-bye.
“I love you, Daddy,” she’d said, as he got back in the car. “I just didn’t want to have our alone time spoiled.” She’d held his hand all the way to Four Brothers, and the only thing he could feel was relief that the tantrum was over, that she was back to his lovely, happy daughter again.
Today he hasn’t given her a choice. He takes her to the diner for breakfast, as he always does, and they sit in the booth they always do, but when Carrie joins them, sliding in opposite them and telling Jessica how thrilled she is to meet her, how many lovely things she’s heard about her, Jessica disappears—the Jessica he has been enjoying all morning is replaced by the same truculent horror as yesterday.
Richard watches this behavior, aghast. He is embarrassed that his daughter is being so rude, mortified that she refuses to answer but a single question, helpless as he watches Carrie struggle to make conversation, only to be rebuffed again and again. But what can he do? He can’t force his child to be polite, and he so wants to show her off—he wants her to show Carrie that she really is his funny, creative, sweet little girl. He wants Carrie to understand why he loves her so much.
Carrie gives up and turns to Richard. “So how was your meeting on—”
“Daddy?” Jessica interrupts, finally looking up at Richard. “Ellie got into trouble at school on Friday. She was caught writing a note to Lauren and Miss Brookman found it and read it to the whole school.”
“Really? That sounds embarrassing. Sweetheart, Carrie was talking. I’m sorry, Carrie, what were you saying?”
“I was just asking you about the meeting on Friday.”
“Oh I can’t believe I forgot to tell you about—”
“Daddy! I don’t like these pancakes. They taste weird. Here. Taste one.”
Richard leans forward and tastes her pancakes. “They’re fine, Jess. Delicious. Sorry, Carrie. So we were pitching—”
“They’re gross.” Jessica spits her food onto the table.
“Jessica!” Richard reprimands her sharply. “Pick that up right away. That’s disgusting.”
“It’s not disgusting.” Jessica’s voice starts to rise. “What’s disgusting is you surprising me with your friend. This weekend is supposed to be about you and me. Why is she here? Why is she ruining everything?”
Carrie stands up. “I should go,” she says gently.
“No,” Richard says firmly, “I want you to stay.” And Jessica dissolves into a mass of heaving sobs.
Chapter Six
Daniel sits on the bench outside the Hub while Bee stocks up on newspapers, shells for the girls and funny books about Nantucket. The road is absolutely quiet, although everyone they met yesterday said they wouldn’t believe how busy it would be next month once the season had truly got underway; that you would barely be able to move for tourists wandering up and down the cobbled streets; that the traffIc would be terrible, old beaten-up Land Cruisers owned by the islanders replaced by Range Rovers and Escalades too big, too flash for the down-to-earth island.
On the other side of the road a dog barks from the cabin of a pickup truck while his owner has scrambled eggs and bacon in the garden of the Even Keel, and locals wander up and down, shouting good