"Well, it is, to some degree anyway," Maritza said.

"How do you see that happening?" Nick said.

Olivia got nervous and hoped that Nick wasn't setting Maritza up to expose the fact that she didn't understand what the term pop culture even meant.

"Well, all you have to do is turn on the television. The programs are all copies of each other. If Cheers worked, then why not try Friends? One took place in a bar and the other one had a coffee shop. And who cares anyway? And all this reality stuff? If The Real Housewives of New Jersey did well, why not have The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and The Real Housewives of Atlanta? Those are some awful people just acting trashy. There's hardly anything original, and what is original is garbage. Anyway, television's terrible. It's all stupid. Pretty much. I think I want the lobster salad. How about y'all?"

"I'm going to try a lobster roll," Olivia said. "I like Downton Abbey."

"Downton Abbey doesn't count. That's sacred." Maritza said.

"And I'm going to have the fish tacos." Nick took another sip of his b.l.o.o.d.y Mary and looked at Maritza. "Even I like Downton Abbey. And I liked the first few seasons of Mad Men. But I agree with you. By and large, television serves a segment of this population with whom I do not identify, except for PBS and sometimes some other channels like National Geographic. And of course, we need CNN."

"I like to watch the Olympics, especially the winter games," Maritza said. "Anyway, who cares about pop culture? I can't wait to show you the house, Olivia. If you love it half as much as I do, I'm going to ask Bob to buy it."

Everyone around them was getting their food.

"Nick? Please tell our waiter we have an appointment."

"Yes, dear," Nick said and looked around for any of the waitstaff, who at that moment were not to be found. "Typical," he said and stood. "I'll be right back."

Lunch was wrapped up within the next forty-five minutes, and Olivia and Maritza were soon saying good-bye to Nick.

"Have fun!" Olivia said and blew him a kiss.

Nick drove away with the driver and Maritza said, "Let's go! It's just right up the street."

They walked the short distance to Easton Street, where the broker waited.

"This is one magnificent house, Maritza." Olivia said.

It was a sprawling Nantucket shingled house with fully matured landscaping of deep blue and purple hydrangeas. The whole place-with its towering chimneys and covered porches and the sheer ma.s.s of it-screamed old Yankee wealth and New England tradition, but in an appropriately m.u.f.fled voice.

"I know! Wait till you see the inside! Hey, Nicole!"

"Hi!" the broker called out. "Nice to see you again! Hi! I'm Nicole Bousquet," she said, and shook hands with Olivia.

"Olivia Ritchie. Nice to meet you."

Olivia wondered if Nicole would be earning the customary six percent.

"Well, let's go inside," Nicole said.

From the minute they stepped over the threshold, Olivia was transported. They were right on the water and there were water views from almost every single room. The was a beautiful graceful staircase, hand-painted floors in the foyer, and an enormous family room with French doors along an entire wall that opened to a deep and wide deck, which led to a rolling lawn down to the dock in the harbor. The floor plan was wonderful, so the rooms flowed easily. There was plenty of storage and plenty of s.p.a.ce for a large family or an even larger party.

"You could have dinner for two hundred people here. No problem," Olivia said.

"The owners have done that more than once," Nicole said.

Avoiding the vulgar question about price, Olivia asked Nicole for a brochure, which would list the cost in addition to a lot of other information. She handed it to her. Twenty-six million. Olivia staggered for a moment. What made this old funky house worth so much money? In the city, that much could buy you a fabulous penthouse. Granted, there were some Manhattan properties listed for over a hundred million that were being s.n.a.t.c.hed up by Russian oligarchs. But twenty-six million for a Nantucket cottage? She needed a moment to digest it.

They went through the kitchen and all over upstairs. Then they visited the guest cottage last. Olivia hated to admit it, but she was charmed to pieces.

"What do you think?" Maritza asked later over a gla.s.s of wine in the lobby while they waited for Nick.

"I think I'd like to see it again tomorrow morning if we have time."

"I'm sure we can arrange that. But you know, your opinion is the one I value the most. Do you think Bob and I should buy it?"

Olivia was quiet for a moment and then said, "Listen, in a normal situation, you'd ask yourself certain questions, like: How much are you going to use it? How much is it worth to you to own it? But you and Bob are in a position in which very few people find themselves. I didn't realize you had such a fondness for Nantucket."

"Well, there's so little humidity," Maritza said and laughed.

Now, there's a good reason to let go of twenty-six million of your favorite dollars, Olivia thought. But she was right about the humidity. Her hair was behaving, for once.

"Yes, you're right," Olivia said.

Maritza sensed a trace of disapproval in Olivia's response, so she came clean.

"To tell you the truth, I have fallen in love with this island because it feels like home. When I was a little girl, I had an aunt who had a cottage here, and I would come and spend part of the summer with her."

"Yes, I heard you mention that on the plane."

"Yep. So I have wonderful memories of this place. And I think Gladdie would be safe here. Nantucket is a wonderful traditional place for families, and Bob needs to be reminded that we're a family. And once you gut it and make it look like it should, I think it would become Bob's favorite place to be."

Money aside, those are pretty solid reasons, Olivia thought.

Olivia just didn't want to be self-serving and take an insecure woman like Maritza and push her toward something for her own gain. Olivia wasn't that hardened.

"Maritza? If you buy the place, you and I will make it a paradise."

CHAPTER 10.

Nantucket Looms

After a delicious seafood dinner and highly animated conversation in the back room behind the bar at CRU, they agreed to meet for breakfast in the dining area the next morning at eight. Nick had spent the better part of the dinner entertaining Maritza with the history of Nantucket from the tales of Tom Nevers and the Nantucket Indians to the stories of the treacherous Rose and Crown Shoal, Walter Chase and his heroic rescues with the surf boat, the Coskata. She was a rapt student, absorbing every word and asking lots of questions.

"Walter Chase said to his men, 'You have to go out, but you don't have to come back!' Can you imagine saying such a thing in today's world?"

"No. I haven't heard these stories since I was knee-high to a gra.s.shopper! And I've never heard of Tom Nevers. I thought it was just a neighborhood. All this information is so good to have because I can tell it all to Gladdie and make her the smartest girl in school!"

Olivia thought, Did that mean Gladdie might receive her formal education on the island?

"Well, and remember, history teaches much more than just a list of dates and facts. It teaches us how to be. What kind of people do we want to be? The men who walked these beaches during terrible storms swinging their lanterns and peering though spygla.s.ses, watching the turbulent waters, searching for ships in trouble?"

"They were a bunch of nuts," Maritza said.

"Maybe. But those men were also selfless and brave. Let's not forget that they endured every kind of inclement weather to help save lives. It was below zero when Chase's soaking wet and near-exhausted men saved the crew of the Kirkham. And save lives they did."

Nick was on a lecturing roll, becoming as boisterous as a revival preacher in a tent. Olivia put her hand on his to calm him down.

Nick took a breath and exhaled. "Thank you, sweetheart. I was about to break the sound barrier, wasn't I?"

"It's okay," Olivia said, thinking that his enthusiasm was part of what made him such a beloved professor.

"It sure gives you a lot to think about," Maritza said. "I mean, they risked their lives for strangers. I don't know if I'd do that, do you?"

"Well, our armed forces do it every day, as do our police officers and firemen and all sorts of first responders. Sadly, that kind of work is not in my nature. Thank G.o.d there are people who can do it," Nick said. "I'm more of a diplomatic peacemaking sort of fellow."

"You would've made a wonderful amba.s.sador," Maritza said.

All Nick heard was would have.

Olivia, always sensitive to Nick's feelings said, "Game's not over! The White House might still call."

So morning found Nick and Maritza chatting away while they dressed and packed, expecting to leave the island that day.

"Maritza loved all the stories you told last night," Olivia said.

"You know, her desperation is pitiable," Nick said. "She's in deep trouble with her marriage if she thinks that a renovated old house and an a.r.s.enal of facts about a new locale might recapture the heart of her husband."

"You're right."

"The poor girl. She's really hanging on to a dream made from gossamer threads."

"Yes, she is. The tragedy here, as you know, is that she really loves Bob. She would do anything in this world to have his heart."

"That's so sad. And you don't think he loves her at all?"

"No. I've known him a long time. This might sound terrible, but I think he is deeply amused by her affection and he sort of revels in the adoration. But sadly, I don't think Bob ever learned the value in really loving someone else besides his children. He wouldn't recognize love if it bit him on his nose. I think he's immune."

"That's a h.e.l.luva statement. It's probably a trust thing. Well, we'd better get moving. It wouldn't be nice to keep Maritza waiting."

"I've been ready! Who spent over half an hour with his morning toilette?"

"I admit it, but my nose is already peeling. I just wanted to be my most presentable self."

"Oh, good grief," Olivia said and laughed. "Let's leave our bags with the bell captain."

"Why not?" Nick said, and the door whooshed to a close behind them.

They dropped off their bags, went to the dining room's unmanned hostess desk, and scanned the room for Maritza. They spotted her and made their way to her table.

"Good morning!" Olivia said.

"Morning! Well, the deal's under way!" Maritza said, sipping her iced coffee. "Bob put an offer in for twenty-two, so we'll see what happens. There are no contingencies and the offer's all cash, so I've got my fingers crossed."

"I think I need waffles this morning," Nick said. "Spending money calls for carbohydrates."

Olivia laughed and agreed. "I'll split them with you?"

"That's a deal!" Nick said.

"Then you're only half bad," Maritza said and giggled. "I'm having French toast and I don't care!"

"I'll help you with that," Olivia said.

Nick bobbed his head in somber agreement. "It's what friends are for."

"And sausage! So. Right after breakfast we're supposed to meet Nicole, and then I thought we should go shopping! I want to show y'all Petticoat Row. How does that sound?"

They ordered their breakfast and their waiter filled their cups with coffee.

"I'd like to see the house," Nick said, "but then I'm supposed to meet an old friend for a bowl of chowder. You ladies can boost the local economy without me tagging along."

"Bob doesn't like to shop either," Maritza said.

"Really? Who are you meeting?" Olivia said, suspecting a blonde from his past.

"Nathaniel Philbrick. He's an author and historian who lectured for one of my cla.s.ses about ten years ago. He's written some very good stuff like Mayflower and In the Heart of the Sea. I'll pick up copies for Bob and ask Nat to sign them. I think he'd enjoy them and he'd learn a lot about the island, not to mention the tenacious nature of the whalers."

"Bob understands tenacious just fine," Olivia said.

"That's so nice!" Maritza said. "Thanks!"

"What's Petticoat Row?" Olivia asked.

"It's just a part of the shopping area on Centre Street between Main and Broad," Maritza said. "They call it that because a long time ago when the island was crawling with whalers, they went out to sea for years at a time and their wives watched the stores."

"Wait a minute," Nick said. "You know this, but you'd never heard of Tom Nevers until last night?"

"Did Tom Nevers ever own a women's clothing store? I don't think so," Maritza said and rolled her eyes.

Nick looked at Olivia. "I give up."