It sometimes felt to Amy like JP was determined to change his life with a snap of his fingers. Vivi moved out; the wine store went belly-up; Amy commuted to cosmetology school on the Cape and rented a modest year-round apartment out by Nantucket Memorial Airport. When she graduated, she got a bottom-rung job at RJ Miller, sweeping up and washing hair. She also became the Hester Prynne of Nantucket; everyone knew she was the one who had broken up the Quinboro marriage. (It wasn’t like that! Amy wanted to shout, but no one would have listened.) Because she was young and naive, Amy had hoped that, with time, she and Vivi could become friends, or if not friends, then friendly, or if not friendly, then civil. Amy had tried reading one of Vivi’s books, The Angle of Light—JP kept first editions of all Vivi’s books in chronological order on a shelf in the den—but she couldn’t get into it. She wasn’t much of a reader, and she made the mistake of telling Willa, then a freshman in college, that the book hadn’t held her interest. Willa went home and told Vivi.
At some point, Amy began to suspect that JP hadn’t meant to leave Vivi at all, that he had simply wanted her attention, because everywhere Amy looked, Vivi was present. Why did JP keep her books on such a prominent shelf? Why did he reach for the Book Review first when they spent Sunday mornings reading the New York Times? Why did he bring Vivi’s name up in conversation whenever possible? Three years ago, when Amy moved in with JP (he’d made the offer only when Amy lost her year-round housing), Amy found two of Vivi’s coats hanging in the closet. One was a pink wool belted driving coat, and the other was a flared white raincoat with three silver buckles that was lined with pale blue jacquard silk. Amy loved both coats so much that, if she’d had no pride, she might have worn them herself. She went through the pockets and found the stub of a movie ticket (Eat, Pray, Love) in one and a strawberry hard candy in another. Amy wondered if Vivi and JP had gone to see Eat, Pray, Love together or if Vivi had gone with her best friend, Savannah. Amy wondered where Vivi had picked up the hard candy as she unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth (she couldn’t resist a strawberry hard candy, with its soft middle, or any candy, no matter how old and forlorn). Amy had asked JP about the coats and he said, “Yeah, sorry, she must have left them behind. Vivi has always been careless with her things.” Amy gave the coats to Willa to take over to Vivi’s house, but Willa brought them back, saying, “Mom doesn’t want them.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do with them?” Amy said. “They’re her coats.”
“She says you can have them.” Willa had looked at Amy frankly then. “If they fit?”
Amy made a big show of stuffing both the coats into the kitchen trash as Willa looked on with cool eyes. No doubt Amy’s adolescent behavior would be reported back to Vivi, and Amy thought, Good! She doesn’t care about her stupid (beautiful, stylish) coats and neither do I. That evening when JP discovered the coats in the trash, covered with coffee grounds and eggshells, he’d cried out as though Amy had stuffed Vivi herself in the can.
In the divorce, Vivi was required to pay JP both child support and alimony. A lot of alimony. (She earned circles around him.) JP had left Vivi, and in the ensuing divorce, Vivi would be paying him? This seemed unfair, even to Amy.
Vivi’s money has always been the elephant in the room. It only makes it worse that Vivi never complains about paying JP even though he has his own business and a wealthy mother, and she’s never late with payments, or short. She never nickel-and-dimes him when she ends up paying for Leo’s lacrosse equipment or Carson’s car insurance. She just (graciously) pays for everything. Her generosity is a stranglehold. Amy hates that every time she takes a hot shower or goes to Ventuno for dinner with JP, Vivi is footing the bill.
If JP had any self-respect, he would stop accepting the alimony checks. But Amy knows he needs them; he still has a mortgage, and Leo is heading to college. And…he’s accustomed to a certain lifestyle. He drives a vintage Land Rover that he fills with premium gas; he likes expensive coffee and organic fruit; he enjoys dinners out; he has dues to pay at the Field and Oar Club; he takes two vacations in the off-season—one ski trip and one tropical—and he wears nice clothes. (Amy recalls JP “taking a lunch” from the wineshop and returning an hour later with an eight-hundred-dollar cashmere-blend blazer that he’d bought at Ralph Lauren.)
Amy has been tempted to tell JP that he can spend Vivi’s money but that she, Amy, will have no part of it.
But what would that mean? That Amy would move out? Find her own place? Or that Amy would stay but buy her own groceries, contribute her portion to the mortgage and utilities? She makes good money at the salon, but would it be enough? She figures she could pay for some of the life, but not all of it. As things stand now, she uses her salary and tips to pay for her car loan, her health insurance, her cell phone, her clothes, shoes, jewelry, and makeup, her barre and yoga classes, and some groceries, and she occasionally pays for dinners out. She has a small savings account that she will need (desperately) if she and JP ever break up.
But they won’t break up—in fact, Amy knows there’s a proposal in her future. Last December, Amy had been desperate to know if JP had bought her a ring for Christmas, so while he was doing errands one Saturday morning, she rifled through his dresser drawers and found (Hallelujah!) a velvet box containing a stunning sapphire-and-diamond engagement ring. Amy had put the box back exactly where she found it and tried to act natural. Inside, she was soaring. Finally! However, when Christmas Day arrived, the ring did not appear. (JP had gotten Amy a new makeup mirror for their bathroom, a cashmere hat, scarf, and gloves set, an OtterBox for her phone, and a very pretty necklace from Jessica Hicks.) At the next possible opportunity, Amy checked the drawer to make sure the ring was still there (it was), and she just figured JP was waiting for the right time.
Or…maybe JP was concerned because Amy’s relationship with the kids had always been iffy, at best. (Willa was polite and formal with her, Carson ran hot and cold depending on what she needed from JP and Amy that day, and Leo was indifferent.) Amy usually took JP’s lead when it came to his kids, which meant dinners once a month, showing up at their home games and staying for at least one quarter, and making plans for whichever holiday was JP’s that year. It finally occurred to Amy that she should make an effort on her own. In the spring, she told both girls that she would give them free beauty services anytime. Willa had sniffed at the offer, but Carson jumped at the chance to come to the salon after hours. Carson was so pretty already that she was hard to improve upon, but Amy went all out, giving her a trim and a blow-dry, plus a tint and wax for her brows. Afterward, Carson asked Amy if she wanted to grab a drink at Petrichor, the wine bar.
“You could have knocked me over with a feather,” Amy told Lorna later.
They each had two glasses of wine and shared the charcuterie platter. Carson talked about her bartending job at the Oystercatcher, which would start in a few weeks. Amy asked Carson if she was dating anyone and Carson said, “No. Yes. Maybe. I can’t talk about it.” Which felt like a confidence. Amy had tactfully switched the topic to Euphoria, the show they were both binge-watching.
With that success under her belt, Amy moved on to Leo. She brought cupcakes to his final lacrosse game and offered to throw him a graduation party at the house. Leo made a squeamish face and then informed Amy that his mom was hosting a party.