in high school. In a letter, Vivi asks Famous Author what she should do with her manuscript.
He calls her, taking her completely by surprise (she included her phone number in the letter but never dreamed he’d use it).
He gives Vivi his own agent’s name and address. “Send it to Jodi with a big note on top that says I referred you. I want full credit for discovering you, hear me? You’re going to be successful, Vivian. I could tell that thirteen years ago. You’ve got something.”
A week after Vivi sends the manuscript, Jodi Partridge calls to say she would be honored to represent Vivi.
“This book is so…summery. It makes me want to move to Nantucket and live my best, beachiest life.”
Vivi eyes the inside of her house. There are doll clothes and Cheerios all over the floor and a juice box (not even organic) leaking onto the coffee table. Vivi had big plans of taking the girls on a walk through the moors—the foliage is changing colors and the October sun makes everything look like it’s been dipped in gold—but it’s two o’clock and Vivi is still in her yoga pants.
“I predict we’re going to have a bunch of competing offers on this,” Jodi says. “Which will drive the price up. With luck, it’ll go for a pretty penny.”
“A pretty penny!” Vivi tells JP the second he walks through the door. She grabs both of his hands and starts hopping up and down. “A pretty penny!”
But something is wrong. JP looks…dejected. Like his dog died. (They don’t have a dog.) Or like he got fired.
“Is everything okay?” Vivi says. “Did you get fired?” It’s true that JP hasn’t generated a lot of income for Island Fog, but building a client list takes time.
“No,” JP says.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“My mother bought half of Old South Wharf is what’s wrong. She bought five of those cottages along the docks to the tune of three and a half million dollars.”
“What?” Vivi says.
“And she used Eddie Pancik as her broker,” JP says. “Instead of me, her only son. Do you know how much commission you get for three and a half million?”
Vivi doesn’t know—and at the moment, she doesn’t care. Would it be rude to brag about her good news now? Probably.
“What is Lucinda going to do with five cottages on Old South Wharf?”
“Rent them out,” JP says. “She told me if I came up with a business plan, she would rent one to me at a discount. So…I was thinking about a yacht-concierge business. I could cater to all the huge boats in the summer.”
“You’ll be right back to picking up dry cleaning,” Vivi says. “And you don’t want that. What about something else?”
“The other idea I had was for a boutique wineshop,” JP says.
“What about something inexpensive that everyone wants?” Vivi says. “Like ice cream?”
“And compete with the Juice Bar?” JP says. “Are you high?”
It’s a narrow opening, but she’s going to take it. “I am high, actually!” Vivi says. This gets JP’s attention. “I got an agent, JP! Jodi called and she likes the book and she thinks we’ll get a ‘bunch of competing offers,’ those were her exact words. She says with luck, it’ll go for a pretty penny.”
JP gives Vivi a blank stare and Vivi wonders if he’ll be able to put aside his own woes for a minute and celebrate Vivi.
A huge smile breaks across JP’s face and he lifts Vivi off the ground. She wraps her legs around him and they kiss like they haven’t kissed since before Carson was born. Carson starts to cry in the Pack ’n Play and Willa’s screen time needs to come to an end, but Vivi doesn’t care. She is so happy! Nothing in this world feels as good as hope.
Carson
On Saturday night at the Oystercatcher, Carson drops a pint glass filled with Whale’s Tale Pale Ale. It slips right through her fingers and shatters against the concrete floor behind the bar; no one is hurt but there are shards, and the beer splashes everywhere.
Carson is too busy to stop. “Clean that up,” she barks at the barback, Jaime (girl). Carson knows that Jaime hates her, so Carson recently bought her a hundred-and-fifty-dollar gift card to Lemon Press as a thank-you for “having my back”—smoothies and acai bowls for days—but now, Carson is right back to square one.
Less than an hour later, Carson drops a tray of glasses and share plates, which makes such a loud, nerve-splintering sound that a hush comes