When Cliff was born, hale and hearty, Eleanor had wept with joy. Mortimer had made a fuss over having a son and for a while Alicia might have felt slighted. Alicia had never been charmed by her baby brother. She nicknamed him Stinky for the first two years of his life, shocked at what his diaper could contain. Cliff grew into a boisterous, mess-making, rowdy little boy, so it was probably true that Alicia had felt ignored or slighted while Eleanor was occupied with saving Cliff from danger or the house from Cliff. There was, Eleanor remembered, the summer when Eleanor had arranged a Cinderella-themed birthday party for Alicia, only to have to rush off to save Cliff from rappelling down the ’Sconset bluff using the ties of Eleanor’s robes and scarves.
Alicia had been an indifferent student (but so had Eleanor). Alicia had been terrible at sports in high school (but so had Eleanor). On the other hand, Cliff had excelled academically and on the basketball court, winning full scholarships to several Ivy League colleges. Alicia had begged to go to boarding school when she was fourteen. It was, she told Eleanor and Mortimer, the only thing she wanted in all the world. So they had coughed up the tuition fees and sent her to an all-girls school in Massachusetts, and Alicia had come home on holidays desiring even more. A trip to the Caribbean for Christmas, diamond ear studs, a canopy bed, a Tiffany signature gold bracelet—whatever the poshest girl in her school had.
Alicia was exasperating, but there were times when she sought Eleanor out and wept in her mother’s arms. Alicia was beautiful, but she didn’t believe that, and the boys she met at the yacht club in the summer flirted with her, but never the boy Alicia had a crush on. Alicia was thrilled when she got to invite a boarding school friend to stay for a week on Nantucket, but she was furious, in private, after the friend left, that Eleanor didn’t have a housekeeper and had expected the girls to help carry bowls and plates to and from the kitchen.
Where had she come from, this pretty, demanding, commanding girl? In her heart, Eleanor knew she favored Cliff, even when he broke a chair or was caught smoking at ten or broke a window or showed up with Alicia’s lipstick scribbled all over his face. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked Alicia to bring her a diaper or washcloth, or to sit alone watching Sesame Street while Eleanor cuddled and rocked Cliff when he was teething. Eleanor could understand how her glee and pride when Cliff started walking might have made Alicia jealous. After all, she could walk, talk, sing, and do cartwheels. Eleanor tried to give Alicia special attention and praise but Alicia often gave her mother a dead-eye stare, as if she knew Eleanor’s praise was forced. Cliff was big and strong, knockout handsome like his father, and naturally sweet. If he wanted something, he worked for it, experiencing no wounded pride when he mowed the lawn or raked the leaves or even stacked dishes in the dishwasher, a chore Eleanor seldom asked him to do because he was so clumsy and clashed the glasses together. Alicia always balked at doing chores, sulking if she had to put a load of her brother’s laundry in the dryer or carry in the groceries.
Alicia attended Northeastern University, and for a while Eleanor thought her daughter might develop an interest in teaching or business. Alicia did work for the first time in her life, as a salesgirl at Shreve, Crump and Low, which sold silver ice buckets and other necessities of life. Alicia worked there, she told her mother, because she hoped to meet the right man, and, miraculously, she did. Phillip Paget was a resident at Harvard Medical School. He wasn’t handsome, but he was kind. He wasn’t wealthy, but he was brilliant. Phillip thought Alicia was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. Their wedding was a stupendously complicated and expensive event that caused Mortimer to retire to his bedroom with a cold cloth on his forehead.
For the first few years, Eleanor was relieved. Both Alicia and Phillip were happy. Phillip became a surgeon who focused fiercely when he worked but couldn’t find his car keys when he was at home. Alicia blossomed as a wife, decorating their house, holding cocktail and dinner parties (with temporary help), and after two years of marriage gave birth to their daughter, Ari. Ari’s difficult birth had ended in a C-section and a hysterectomy. Alicia was glad she was relieved of the burden of pregnancy. It had not been a state she’d enjoyed. But she was a good wife and mother, happy in her life, even blissful when the family came to the island most summer weekends to relax. Alicia met old friends, played tennis, sailed, and was thrilled to have Eleanor in charge of Ari.
Ari.
Eleanor adored Ari. Ari adored Eleanor. For years, everyone was happy. Now Ari was graduating from college, and Alicia was forty-six, worrying about her age. Alicia was obsessed with money and the status she thought it could buy.
This Christmas, here at the Nantucket house, Eleanor had given Alicia a check for a thousand dollars. Alicia had spotted the amount and her face fell with disappointment.
“Sweetie,” Eleanor had asked, “don’t you like your gift?”
Alicia was almost at the point of tears. “It’s nice, Mom. Thank you. It’s just…I was hoping for more so I could buy a Birkin.”
Ari spoke up, rolling her eyes. “Mom. You can get an Hermès Kelly online for a thousand dollars.”
“Yes, used. Or a knockoff,” Alicia shot back.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eleanor had said. Her daughter made her feel weary.
Eleanor also worried about
