them like she was what she was—one of the family. Harper had told him once if he ever did get serious about someone, he would have a strange situation on his hands because Pru wasn’t going anywhere—they wouldn’t allow it. Whoever he brought into the fold at this point was going to feel competitive with her whether it was warranted or not.
He’d mostly ignored his sister, and wasn’t sure why he was thinking about it now. He was so far from a serious relationship these days it wasn’t even worth considering.
“So, how about you, Hayes?” Aunt Nellie asked him now, moments after they’d all taken their seats around a table decorated so perfectly it should’ve been photographed and submitted to a magazine.
Brown paper had been laid over a cream-colored tablecloth, and instead of place cards, his mom had used white paint to hand-letter each of their names right at each place setting. In the middle of the table were sprigs of greenery in small vases, tealight candles staggered in between. Cloth napkins were neatly folded on each plate, stacked with silverware. The best part about it was that none of the pieces matched. No two plates or forks or glasses were the same. Even the napkins were unique, and yet somehow, his mother put it all together perfectly.
Hayes painted on his trademark smile and met his aunt’s gaze from across the table. “How about me, Aunt Nellie?” He liked verbally sparring with her and found her almost as worthy an opponent as Pru.
“How long are you planning on staying on the island?” Aunt Nellie asked as she piled a scoop of mashed potatoes onto her plate. “Knowing you, I expect you’ll be running around the world again by this time next week.”
Hayes couldn’t even consider another trip right now. He’d been away too long, and he needed time to recover from more than just jet lag.
“Not true, Aunt Nellie.” Prudence set her water glass on the table. “He’s agreed to accompany me to the Festival of Trees Preview Party next Thursday.”
“Is that right? So you’ll be around for a bit?” Aunt Nellie eyed him from behind her bifocals. The woman wasn’t old—maybe early sixties—but those glasses said otherwise. Everything else about her was spry and full of life.
“I haven’t decided yet.” He glanced at Pru. “I’m not in a hurry to get back to work.”
Hollis set his glass down and looked at Hayes. “That’s not like you.”
Hayes shrugged. “I’m due for a break. It’s okay that I stick around for a little while, right, Ma?”
“Of course, Hayes,” his mother said. “As long as you promise to stop calling me ‘Ma.’”
Hayes flashed her a smile, then found Aunt Nellie watching him. She seemed to be reading into his choice to stick around. She did that—read between the lines. She picked up on the things you didn’t say and said them for you.
Aunt Nellie was his favorite aunt. She’d visited his family one summer on Nantucket ages ago and liked it so much she moved here year-round. She met and married Arthur, a local, and that sealed the deal. She now said she had no use for the mainland at all.
It was the strangest thing because Nellie didn’t grow up on the island or come from money, and yet somehow, the woman fit in with every social class a person would find on Nantucket.
She could shoot the breeze with the lobstermen as easily as she could take tea with the rich ladies who bought only designer clothes, purses, and shoes. Aunt Nellie was a chameleon that way.
“That’s kind of you,” Nellie said now. “To take time out to spend the holidays here.”
“Yeah, despite what you’ve heard, I’m actually a nice guy.”
At his side, Pru shifted.
“And you know how much I love a good party,” he said quickly, hoping the conversation hadn’t made her feel like a charity case.
“Oh, we know,” they all seemed to say in unison.
He’d have to play the part a little while longer—Hayes, the one who was never serious. Hayes, the flirt. Hayes, the party boy. Because if he didn’t, his family might catch on that he’d changed. And he wasn’t ready to discuss the reasons why.
They ate. They laughed. They watched football. They went for a walk on the beach. They ate leftovers. They drank wine. They told jokes. They played Scrabble. And when it got to be 10:00 p.m., a quiet (or maybe a fullness?) came over everyone, seemingly at the same time. They were scattered throughout