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" 1987 They discovered the beach when they were 10. Hidden away off a country road, it was a small crescent of sand at the creek end of the harbor, so concealed by a tangle of beach grass, cattails, and wild rosebushes that no one would ever find it unless they were young and supple and small, creeping low to the ground, pretending to be Wampanoag Indian scouts.  Clare and Lexi never saw signs of other people there \u2014 no footprints in the sand, no discarded bits of paper. It was their own fairy-tale thicket, their fantasy world. They met at the beach almost every day. Their skin grew brown as nuts, and their noses were always sunburned red.  During the winter months, they had to play indoors. The inside games were never quite as satisfactory \u2014 they were too close to the real world. At Clare&amp;#039;s house, they played her choice \u2014 elaborate games of house, transforming her bedroom into a home, with Clare&amp;#039;s stuffed animals for children. Lexi always grew bored with such domesticity. She wanted to travel to faraway lands, she wanted adventure; at her house, she and Clare turned the backs of sofas into camels and elephants and dressed up like belly dancers or gypsies. They envied each other a bit. Lexi wished her mother were an artist like Clare&amp;#039;s mother, who spent most of her time in her studio at the back of the yard and forgot to shop for groceries or clean the house but sometimes sat with the girls, leafing through her art books, explaining in intricate and entrancing detail the works of Monet or Sargent or Childe Hassam. Lexi was ashamed of how cranky she felt about her own parents, so exhausted from running their shop that all they did at home was collapse and watch TV. In turn, Clare envied Lexi&amp;#039;s slightly larger and much more present family. Lexi had an older brother who filled the house with noise and movement. Sometimes on winter nights, the four Laneys gathered around the kitchen table to play Monopoly; if Clare was invited to stay over, she grabbed at the chance, loving the teasing and tumble of family life.  1990 The summer of their 13th year, Clare and Lexi were filled with an unexpected restlessness, like air before a storm, charged and tense. Lexi shot up to almost 6 feet, and both girls started their periods. They wore loose clothing to cover their changing bodies, but they soon discovered they were helpless before the force that swept them up like driftwood in the sea. Clare developed a passionate crush on Lexi&amp;#039;s older brother, Adam. He was 15, tall and strong, with hair and eyebrows bleached white by the sun. Lexi was infatuated with Adam&amp;#039;s best friend, Tris, who had broad shoulders, flaming red hair, and a deep rumbling voice. One Saturday afternoon, Adam and Tris and three other guys sat at the Laneys&amp;#039; kitchen table playing poker. Clare and Lexi pretended to watch TV in the family room, but they went into the kitchen as many times as their dignity would allow, on the pretense of getting some chips or a Coke. When the game broke up, the five guys rose and clomped out of the kitchen. Lexi and Clare stormed the room like a pair of spies, then raced outside and jumped on their bikes and pedaled to Moon Shell Beach. They sank to their knees in the sand and took out their stolen treasures. Wrapped in Lexi&amp;#039;s paper napkin lay the leftover portion of Tris&amp;#039;s sandwich. Clare had an apple, partially eaten by Adam. &amp;quot;His mouth was here,&amp;quot; Lexi whispered. She held the sandwich to her lips and closed her eyes. Clare ran her fingers over the moist white flesh of the apple and thought of Adam&amp;#039;s straight white teeth. After a while, Lexi giggled, trying to lighten the intensity of the moment. &amp;quot;We&amp;#039;re kind of insane, aren&amp;#039;t we?&amp;quot; But Clare remained serious. &amp;quot;Lexi, let&amp;#039;s make a pact. Let&amp;#039;s promise never to bring a guy to this beach unless he&amp;#039;s the man we&amp;#039;re going to marry.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Marry!&amp;quot; Lexi shouted. &amp;quot;Marriage is a million years away.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;I know. But still....&amp;quot; Clare spread out her arms, embracing the moment. &amp;quot;This is our place. So I swear I won&amp;#039;t bring a man out here unless he&amp;#039;s the man I&amp;#039;m going to marry.&amp;quot; Both girls dipped their hands into the clear waters of Nantucket Harbor, then with wet palms solemnly shook. They looked at each other, awed and frightened and eager. It was a vow that would bond them forever. 1996 Clare ran her tongue over the smooth surface of her teeth as she found her seat on the Hy-Line fast ferry. She was a senior in high school, and her heinous braces were finally off! When she&amp;#039;d first had them put on, two years ago, the orthodontist had been on Nantucket, but he moved to the Cape, so she had to go off-island for her appointments. Sometimes Lexi came with her and they went shopping \u2014 but today was a Saturday, early in October, and Lexi had to help her parents in their store. It was just beginning to rain, long drops streaking down the ferry windows. At the end of the line shuffled a tiny old woman so uncoordinated it seemed she took two steps back for every step she took forward. Old Mrs. Gill, one of the island&amp;#039;s more eccentric characters. Clare wondered if she should go help her up the ramp. She rose from her seat. Then she saw Jesse Gray run out into the rain. Jesse Gray, wow. He was the handsomest, coolest, sexiest guy in the senior class. She knew he&amp;#039;d slept with half the girls in high school, and a lot of older women too. Clare almost fainted whenever he nodded at her in the hallway. Now there he was, putting his arm around old Mrs. Gill and ushering her patiently up the ramp. The rain darkened Jesse&amp;#039;s blue jeans and plastered his Red Sox T-shirt against his chest. Lucky old Mrs. Gill! Jesse watched to be sure she was settled, then looked around the cabin. His eyes met Clare&amp;#039;s. He smiled. &amp;quot;Hey, Clare.&amp;quot; Jesse ambled over. &amp;quot;What&amp;#039;s up?&amp;quot; He dropped into the chair opposite her. Omigod, omigod, Clare thought. &amp;quot;I just got my braces off,&amp;quot; she told him. &amp;quot;Let me see,&amp;quot; Jesse said, leaning forward. Nervously, she showed him her teeth. &amp;quot;Awesome. You&amp;#039;ve got a great smile.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Thanks.&amp;quot; Her heart was triple-timing in her chest.  Want some hot chocolate?&amp;quot; Jesse asked. Clare nodded. &amp;quot;Sure.&amp;quot; As Jesse walked to the snack bar, the ferry left the harbor for the open waters of the Sound. Jesse was going to sit with her for the whole trip! Clare, she ordered herself, you are not allowed to act like a geek. &amp;quot;So,&amp;quot; Jesse said, &amp;quot;are you contributing anything to the school literary review?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Nope. Literature&amp;#039;s not my talent.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Are you artistic like your mom?&amp;quot; So Jesse knew about her family. Jesse was aware of her. Clare shook her head. &amp;quot;Can&amp;#039;t draw either.&amp;quot; She leaned forward. &amp;quot;You know what I can do? Cook. I love to cook.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;You&amp;#039;ll have to show me sometime,&amp;quot; Jesse said. And something about the way he looked at her, his blue eyes so warm on her face, made her say, &amp;quot;Sure. I&amp;#039;d like that.&amp;quot; She wasn&amp;#039;t afraid when she said the words. She was ready. &amp;quot;Hey,&amp;quot; Jesse said. &amp;quot;Don&amp;#039;t look so serious. Let me see your million-dollar smile.&amp;quot; Clare blinked as she managed a tremulous smile. Jesse ran the tips of his fingers lightly over her teeth. &amp;quot;Very nice.&amp;quot; He ran his fingertips over her lips. &amp;quot;Also very nice.&amp;quot; Leaning forward, he kissed her gently. It was amazing how natural the kiss was, how warm and right. She drew back, looking into Jesse&amp;#039;s blue eyes. &amp;quot;Jesse. I don&amp;#039;t want to be just another...girl for you.&amp;quot; His smile was like an angel&amp;#039;s. &amp;quot;Hey, Clare. I know that. You&amp;#039;re special. Trust me.&amp;quot; he trusted him. Clare&amp;#039;s senior year was all about Clare and Jesse. She went to class, she did her homework, she applied to colleges, but none of that was real to her. Only Jesse was real. It wasn&amp;#039;t just sex. It was more than that. It was warmth and security \u2014 it was home. Clare could be leaning over the sink, rinsing the dishes, and he&amp;#039;d say something, and she&amp;#039;d bend her head to hear him over the water, and he&amp;#039;d go to her, put his arms around her waist. She&amp;#039;d lean back against him, her head against his chest. They&amp;#039;d stand there like that, as warmly satisfied as bread rising in the oven. There was no hesitancy between them. After three weeks, Jesse told Clare he loved her. At Christmas, he gave her a necklace with a diamond heart. They talked about their futures. Clare was going to college; Jesse wanted to start a band. Clare encouraged him, but her heart went chilly with fear. She&amp;#039;d heard about musicians, how they slept with women at every gig.  Clare was so engrossed with Jesse, she didn&amp;#039;t even notice how little she saw Lexi. It would have been easier if Lexi had been in love too, but Lexi wasn&amp;#039;t dating anyone. Clare tried to be sympathetic, but her days and her life and her heart and soul were devoted to Jesse. 1997 It took about five hours to get from Nantucket to the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. Perhaps that was why Clare had felt such panic every single day her first year of college. Because she could see Jesse so seldom. Because some weekends she traveled home to see him and some weekends he traveled to Amherst to see her...but most weekends, and all week, she was here and Jesse was on the island, careless and sensual and ranging free. Somehow, in spite of the distance, rumors made their way to Clare that fall. Jesse was seen at the Muse Friday night, flirting with Eleanor Hoston. Jesse danced at the Chicken Box with Sandy Jones. But those were only rumors. When Clare came home for the holidays, Jesse confessed that he&amp;#039;d slept with Donna Tyler. That was fact, and all of that Christmas was eclipsed for Clare by a whirlwind of misery.  In an odd way, Clare became closer to Lexi during this year than she had been since they were children. When Clare wept, hating herself, feeling ugly and worthless, Lexi championed her. She sat up for hours with Clare, late into the night, reassuring her that she was the same spectacular, fascinating creature she&amp;#039;d always been, that Jesse&amp;#039;s infidelities had everything to do with Jesse&amp;#039;s wiring and nothing to do with how Clare looked or acted or thought.  Clare was nearly weak with relief when summer came. She took a job at a gourmet shop and worked as many hours as they would give her, but most of her days and all of her nights were about being with Jesse. Jesse was repentant about his sleeping around, and swore it wouldn&amp;#039;t happen ever again, and that summer, when they were together every single night, Clare began, cautiously, to trust him.  It was a golden summer. The days were hot, humid, and bright with light, and Clare loved the sun on her skin, the breeze in her hair. Most nights, she and Jesse went to one of the parties on the beaches undiscovered by the tourists. They would drink beer or wine, catch up on the day&amp;#039;s gossip, perhaps walk hand in hand along the water&amp;#039;s edge, and sometimes, on the hottest nights, swim in their clothes. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;ve got goose bumps,&amp;quot; Clare would tell Jesse when they came out of the water, and Jesse would wrap his arms around her and hold her against him, warming her, grinning down at her as she became aware, through the material, of his erection. Lexi was never at the townie parties because she was working nights at a restaurant. It was always awkward when the three of them were together anyway. Lexi had a way of standing back from Jesse, as if he were riddled with some contagion, and Jesse, who threw his arm around all his friends, male or female, got clumsy around Lexi. Clare was secretly relieved to see so little of her friend. After one year of college, Lexi was flying high. Her grades were stellar, and she&amp;#039;d found her vocation \u2014 she wanted to major in art. Painting, sculpting, graphic arts, photography, design \u2014 she wanted to study everything. Still, she was 19, and it was summer \u2014 she also wanted to have fun. She planned to work in her parents&amp;#039; store, catch the beach when she had time off, and party every night. But just a few days into June, Lexi realized with a terrible plummet of her heart that Laney&amp;#039;s Dry Goods Emporium was failing, losing business to the chic boutiques that had crowded into town. Adam was away at veterinary school, which was taking a lot of their parents&amp;#039; savings. One night, Lexi overheard her parents talking in strained whispers, trying to figure out how they could pay their mortgage. &amp;quot;We&amp;#039;ll have to close the store at the end of the summer.&amp;quot; Her father&amp;#039;s voice was grim. Her mother began to cry. &amp;quot;Your grandfather&amp;#039;s business....&amp;quot; Perhaps that was the moment Lexi grew up.  She decided that there was one way she could help her parents. So one evening, over dinner, Lexi casually announced, &amp;quot;I don&amp;#039;t think I&amp;#039;ll go back to college this year. I&amp;#039;ll take a year off and work and pile up some money.&amp;quot; Her father&amp;#039;s voice was somber. &amp;quot;You won&amp;#039;t pile up money working at the store.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;That&amp;#039;s all right, Dad.&amp;quot; She simply wanted to erase the worry from his face. &amp;quot;I can make a ton waitressing.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Well.&amp;quot; He nodded. &amp;quot;That&amp;#039;s a good idea, Lexi.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;A very good idea,&amp;quot; her mother echoed. Lexi was proud of herself, and deeply sad. She felt as if her future had been floating above her like a brilliantly colored hot-air balloon, tethered to the ground, waiting to lift her away...and she had just cut the line and could only watch helplessly as her hopes drifted up and out of sight. She took a waitressing job at La Maison. She thought she&amp;#039;d enjoy working at the posh French restaurant, but the other waitstaff and the chef were a chummy, tight little club who spoke French with one another and snubbed Lexi. And the customers were from another galaxy. The women, just a bit older than Lexi, took her breath away with their expensive clothing and casual elegance. She envied their looks, their laughter \u2014 but most of all, she envied their experiences. The men who squired these glittering women were handsome, some of them, and all of them accustomed to being in command. Lexi was aware of the way the men&amp;#039;s eyes slid over her, taking in her long legs and sleek figure, occasionally giving her a secret smile. One Saturday night early in June, when they weren&amp;#039;t full, Lexi was surprised to see Lauren, the hostess, whip away from the front door and meet in a buzz with the waiters. &amp;quot;What&amp;#039;s going on?&amp;quot; Lexi asked Peter, a waiter who would at least speak to her in English. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s Ed Hardin,&amp;quot; Peter said. &amp;quot;Lauren won&amp;#039;t seat him.&amp;quot; That summer, the Nantucket community hated Ed Hardin. A real estate mogul, he was cunning, ruthless, and powerful. During the winter, Hardin had bought up luxuriant, unspoiled acreage and developed it into a mini-suburb of enormous, expensive trophy mansions. &amp;quot;We can refuse service to anyone!&amp;quot; Lauren was hissing. &amp;quot;Get a grip,&amp;quot; Phil, the chef/owner, snapped. &amp;quot;If you want to be moralistic, go to divinity school.&amp;quot; Lauren glared around at the waitstaff. &amp;quot;Lexi, he&amp;#039;s yours.&amp;quot; Ed Hardin was handsome for a man nearing 40. He was almost bald, but his eyebrows were black and bushy over a raptor&amp;#039;s piercing dark eyes. When he looked at Lexi, his gaze was like a judgment. Then he smiled at her. &amp;quot;Well, hello,&amp;quot; he said. Over the summer, Ed Hardin dined at La Maison at least once a week. He requested Lexi&amp;#039;s table every time he came. He flirted with her, left fabulous tips, and often leaned back in his chair and asked Lexi about herself.  One evening, he asked, &amp;quot;Do you work every night?&amp;quot; Cool, she thought, he wants to come here only when I can be his waitress. &amp;quot;Not Mondays and Tuesdays.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Great. Let me take you out to dinner on Monday.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Oh.&amp;quot; Lexi was so surprised, she almost dropped the bread basket. Flustered, she stuttered, &amp;quot;Oh...I, uh, I can&amp;#039;t. Sorry.&amp;quot; And she hurried away. That night, she casually told her parents that Hardin had asked her out. Her father snorted. &amp;quot;I hope you said no!&amp;quot; Her mother patted her hand gently. &amp;quot;A man like him would only take advantage of a small-town girl like you.&amp;quot; Lexi knew her mother meant to be helpful, but her words cut deep. And by morning, Lexi found something in her rebelling. Did her parents think she was stupid? That she&amp;#039;d be putty in the hands of a wealthy, powerful man? A week later, Ed dined at La Maison again. When she placed the leather folder holding the tab on his table, he put his hand on it, near hers. &amp;quot;Lexi, I&amp;#039;d really like to take you out. Any evening you&amp;#039;re free.&amp;quot; She was aware of the eyes of the other staff and diners on her. She capitulated. &amp;quot;All right. Monday.&amp;quot; As they made arrangements, she knew she was flushing. She felt like a heroine accepting a challenge from a fascinating enemy. He took her to the Chanticleer, the best restaurant on the island \u2014 and the most expensive. He ordered fabulous wine and amazing food. He was sophisticated, imposing, witty, and well-traveled. And he also seemed genuinely interested in her. When he discovered that she loved art, he drew her out, asking her which painter she liked best, which style, what painting she&amp;#039;d buy if she could buy anything in the world. He asked whether she&amp;#039;d been to the Clark Museum in Williams-town. He asked if he could take her there sometime. When he drove her home, he said he wanted to come in. Lexi grinned, finally having a little power of her own, and told him, &amp;quot;I live here with my parents.&amp;quot; She slipped out of his Mercedes before he could kiss her. In her room that night, she paced the floor, trying to work off the energy of her conflicting emotions. She was not sexually attracted to Ed Hardin. He was almost 20 years older than she, and even a little shorter, and portly. But she was attracted to who she became when she was with him. He&amp;#039;d made her feel interesting, even knowledgeable. She really needed to talk to Clare. &amp;quot;Are you nuts?&amp;quot; Clare yelled, standing up and pacing in her frustration. She&amp;#039;d agreed to share her short lunch break with Lexi to hear her news, but now she was regretting it. &amp;quot;This man has single-handedly ruined acres of the island!&amp;quot; Lexi nodded, miserable. &amp;quot;I know \u2014 &amp;quot; &amp;quot;And second, which actually ought to be first, because I love you and don&amp;#039;t want to see you used and tossed aside like a piece of soiled tissue, all he wants to do is seduce you. Lexi, Ed Hardin is a carnivore! To him, you&amp;#039;re just one more pretty young gazelle in a herd of thousands!&amp;quot; Lexi folded her arms. &amp;quot;I don&amp;#039;t think that&amp;#039;s true.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Then you&amp;#039;re kidding yourself.&amp;quot; Tears flew from Clare&amp;#039;s eyes as she paced in a circle. &amp;quot;Lexi, Lexi, come on! Don&amp;#039;t do this to yourself.&amp;quot; She glared at Lexi as if she were repellent. &amp;quot;Honey, if you date that man, you might as well hang a sign on your back saying &amp;#039;If you have money, you can do me.&amp;#039;&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Clare, don&amp;#039;t be so mean!&amp;quot; Lexi begged. &amp;quot;Lexi, don&amp;#039;t be so stupid,&amp;quot; Clare shot back. Lexi opened her mouth to retort, &amp;quot;And Jesse&amp;#039;s sign says &amp;#039;If you&amp;#039;re female, you can do me!&amp;#039;&amp;quot; She wanted to be as mean and vulgar as Clare had been. But she bit her tongue. She wasn&amp;#039;t with Ed Hardin the way Clare was with Jesse. After Labor Day, the island was suddenly quieter. Lexi&amp;#039;s cleaning jobs ended and her hours at La Maison were cut drastically. Perhaps because she had time on her hands, perhaps because a lot of her friends, including Clare, had left the island for college, and perhaps because she truly wanted to, she accepted Ed&amp;#039;s invitation to go to Williamstown to see the Impressionist paintings at the Clark Museum. In a fit of madness, Lexi spent half of her hard-earned money on three dresses and a pair of fabulous shoes. Now, as she walked through the hushed rooms of the museum with Ed at her side, she saw the way other people looked at her, their eyes lingering. She felt so elegant, so special. That night, Ed took her to a restaurant with the dark, leathery ambience of a library. Lexi shivered with the realization that here, now, in her marvelous, simple black dress, she must seem to others like the well-educated, well-traveled women she had waited on all summer at La Maison. Ed gazed approvingly at Lexi. &amp;quot;I hope you&amp;#039;ve noticed \u2014 you&amp;#039;re the object of much admiration.&amp;quot; Lexi tried to be cool. She felt triumphant, yet frightened. She took a sip of the champagne Ed had ordered and forced herself to calm down. She wanted to be more than she was. &amp;quot;This has been a wonderful day, Ed,&amp;quot; she told him. Did he actually blush? He seemed almost embarrassed by her sincerity. &amp;quot;Yes, it has.&amp;quot; After dinner, they strolled around the formal grounds of the hotel. The air was hot and humid and lush with the scent of roses. For a few moments, they watched the waters of a fountain spill over the marble. This would be a good time for Ed to kiss her, Lexi thought. To hold her hand.... But he only took her arm, lightly. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s late,&amp;quot; Ed said. &amp;quot;We have to get up early tomorrow to drive back to the ferry.&amp;quot; She walked along helplessly as they returned to the hotel and took the elevator to their floor; Ed had reserved adjoining rooms for them. At the door to hers, he said formally, &amp;quot;Goodnight, Lexi. Thank you for a delightful evening.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Oh.&amp;quot; She felt awkward, uncertain. &amp;quot;I thought \u2014 &amp;quot; Calmly, he told her, &amp;quot;Anything else that happens tonight is your choice. The door between us stays locked, or you can open it. It&amp;#039;s up to you.&amp;quot; As Ed walked away, Lexi experienced an unexpected twinge of disappointment. A sense of loss, almost. Why shouldn&amp;#039;t she sleep with him? Probably she would never see him again in her entire life. Or perhaps next summer she would see him, and she would be waitressing at La Maison, and he would be seducing another, younger waitress, and Lexi would be cast aside just like Clare predicted. But next summer was far away. She was young, after all; why shouldn&amp;#039;t she be foolish while she was young? She took a deep breath, and she unlocked the adjoining door. Ed was standing by his bed. He was just removing his dinner jacket. His white shirt gleamed like snow. &amp;quot;Well, hello.&amp;quot; She crossed over the threshold into his room. &amp;quot;I thought....&amp;quot; Suddenly she was trembling. She&amp;#039;d had sex before \u2014 with boys, inexperienced, clumsy boys. She struggled to remain dignified. &amp;quot;I thought I&amp;#039;d like to go to bed with you.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Did you, now?&amp;quot; Ed&amp;#039;s face softened. &amp;quot;I was hoping.&amp;quot; She walked toward him slowly. &amp;quot;Do you \u2014 would you like me to undress?&amp;quot; He pulled her to him in a gentle hug. &amp;quot;Lexi.&amp;quot; He kissed her face and ran his hands down her arms. &amp;quot;Yes, Lexi, I&amp;#039;d like you to undress. But first, I&amp;#039;d like you to sit down.&amp;quot;  Puzzled, she obeyed. Ed sat next to her. He studied her for a moment. &amp;quot;You really are lovely.&amp;quot; Her throat was so dry she was afraid to respond. &amp;quot;Lexi,&amp;quot; Ed said, &amp;quot;what would you think about marrying me?&amp;quot; And from his pocket he brought out a small black velvet box holding a large emerald-cut diamond ring. Clare was nearly shaking with anger. It was a muggy, hot Sunday morning in early September. &amp;quot;I can&amp;#039;t believe you made me come out to Moon Shell Beach to tell me this!&amp;quot; &amp;quot;We agreed we&amp;#039;d tell each other the important things here!&amp;quot; Lexi hugged herself defensively.  Clare protested, &amp;quot;But Lexi, he&amp;#039;s a horrible man! What kind of woman have you become that you&amp;#039;d marry him? You know you can&amp;#039;t love him. So you&amp;#039;re marrying him for his money, and that makes you no better than a whore!&amp;quot; Stung, Lexi shot back, &amp;quot;You should know. You&amp;#039;re sleeping with the town slut. Jesse can&amp;#039;t keep his trousers zipped, plus oh, right, he&amp;#039;s really going to be able to support you with his awesome band that never quite gets formed.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;This isn&amp;#039;t about Jesse,&amp;quot; Clare said between clenched teeth. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s about you marrying Ed Hardin. He&amp;#039;s just an immoral, greedy, saga-size turd!&amp;quot; Lexi retorted, &amp;quot;And you&amp;#039;re just a provincial little peasant whose ambitions end at Jesse Gray&amp;#039;s ass!&amp;quot;  Clare bit her cheek to stop the tears. &amp;quot;Well, I&amp;#039;m so glad you invited me out here to our special place to have this conversation,&amp;quot; she said sardonically.  Lexi held herself tightly for a long moment, then sank onto the sand and wept. Her parents were having financial troubles, her best friend hated her, she was alone \u2014 she was lost. You can only take what life offers you, Lexi thought. Ed Hardin wanted her. She would marry him. 2006 Clare leaned against the bathroom door, watching Jesse shave. &amp;quot;Honestly, Jesse, I don&amp;#039;t want to do this.&amp;quot; Jesse made a face as he scraped the delicate skin between his mouth and nose. &amp;quot;Come on, babe. It&amp;#039;s disrespectful if you don&amp;#039;t show up.&amp;quot;  Tony Kostner&amp;#039;s fishing boat had gone down in a storm on Georges Bank a week ago, and Clare was trying to decide whether she was obligated to attend the memorial service. &amp;quot;Well, I never did respect Anthony,&amp;quot; Clare reminded him. &amp;quot;He was a drunk and an arrogant, bad-tempered lout.&amp;quot; Jesse dipped his face toward the basin, splashing it with cold water. &amp;quot;We went to school with him, Clare.&amp;quot; He scowled. &amp;quot;Anyway, this isn&amp;#039;t just about Tony. It&amp;#039;s about Georgeann.&amp;quot;  The name opened between them like a black bog, indistinct and dangerous. One step into it and they&amp;#039;d be mired, thrashing around through their past in a frantic attempt to get back to the surface. Clare closed her eyes.  For the past 10 years, Clare had based her whole life on the conviction that she and Jesse were meant for each other. It just seemed right \u2014 until easygoing, sweet-smiling Jesse once again confessed he&amp;#039;d sort of, kind of, had a little...oh, you couldn&amp;#039;t even call it a fling; he&amp;#039;d just made one more tiny, meaningless mistake in the arms of another woman. Clare had broken it off with Jesse every time. But sooner or later, the irresistible force that had drawn them together in high school would bring them back together again. And at the end of last summer, when Clare&amp;#039;s mother, whom Jesse had adored, was dying, Jesse had proposed.  Clare was sure Jesse hadn&amp;#039;t strayed since then. But the sight of one of Jesse&amp;#039;s former flings always stung, and Georgeann Kostner had been his last mistake.  &amp;quot;Come on, Clare, this isn&amp;#039;t just about Tony \u2014 it&amp;#039;s about the community. We&amp;#039;ve lost one of ours. Tony was a dumb grunt in high school, I admit that, and he never did get much smarter, but he was a fisherman, he was an island son, and you&amp;#039;re an island daughter, and it&amp;#039;s just not right for you not to attend this service.&amp;quot; Clare looked at Jesse, who had slipped on the trousers to his best and only dark suit and was now working on a tie. His newly washed hair gleamed like the sun. He was beautiful. And he was right too, about Tony and the island community. And this was one of the reasons she loved Jesse, because he was such a profound part of the island; and the island, land and people, were part of him. &amp;quot;You&amp;#039;re right, Jesse. I should go. I will go. Give me a moment, I&amp;#039;ll find my black dress.&amp;quot; The Congregational church was crowded to standing-room only. As Clare sat next to Jesse in the last row, a deep welling of pain forced her to face up to the real reason she&amp;#039;d wanted to avoid this service. It reminded her of being seated in the first row, next to her father, at the memorial service for her mother. The congregation rose to sing a hymn. As Clare rose with the others, she wondered whether Lexi even knew that Ellen had died. Clare had received no letter of condolence, and that seemed a little odd. Wouldn&amp;#039;t Lexi&amp;#039;s parents have told Lexi about Clare&amp;#039;s mother&amp;#039;s death? It had been almost 10 years since she and Lexi had had their bitter, name-calling argument. For a few years after that, Lexi had written brief notes to Clare. And Clare hadn&amp;#039;t answered. Lexi&amp;#039;s letters had seemed like a kind of bragging. &amp;quot;Here I am in Paris, here I am in Rome.&amp;quot; During those years Clare had gotten a college degree in business, attended a culinary college for two years, worked three jobs every summer to save money, and started her shop, Sweet Hart&amp;#039;s. She&amp;#039;d had no time to spend on regrets and memories, and what free time she did have, she&amp;#039;d spent with Jesse.  The truth was, she missed Lexi, and yet it was possible that the Lexi she missed didn&amp;#039;t even exist anymore. Lexi lived in New York with a wealthy, important man. Lexi&amp;#039;s parents were both retired now, so Clare never ran into them. She scanned the rows of mourners in front of her, but didn&amp;#039;t spot the Laneys. If they had come, and if they were at the reception after the service, she might take the opportunity to ask them how Lexi was doing. Perhaps they might tell Lexi that Clare had asked after her. It might be seen as an overture for reconciliation, and Clare was stunned at how much that thought appealed to her. Clare looked and looked, but she didn&amp;#039;t see the Laneys. Lexi stood in the climate-controlled walk-in closet in her husband&amp;#039;s Park Avenue home. Funny how she still thought of this place as Ed&amp;#039;s home, not hers. After 10 years of marriage, she was still an intruder or, at best, a guest in the gallery of her husband&amp;#039;s life. Only this one enclosed room in the large, formal house was hers. Her closet, hushed and orderly, was her refuge. Opening the glossy teak closet doors, she ran her fingertips over her silk shirts, skirts, and dresses, organized by color into a rainbow of luxury. In long drawers, on velvet pads, lay her glittering treasure hoard of jewelry \u2014 the jewelry not valuable enough to be in the vault. So much beauty. So much perfection. She sank down on the floor, pulled her knees up to her chest, and buried her face in her arms. She&amp;#039;d started her period again today; perhaps that was why she was in such a dark mood. Ed would never have approved of her seeing a therapist, so recently she&amp;#039;d taken to reading self-help books. Now she called upon their advice. One exercise had been to look for the positive, to count her blessings. She could do that, couldn&amp;#039;t she? Okay, then. To start with, she lived in luxury, that was certain. And she traveled as much as she wanted. With Ed, she vacationed in Tuscany, sunned on private Caribbean islands, and skied in Switzerland or Vail. She gazed upon breathtaking paintings in Paris and St. Petersburg.  She looked around the closet. The clothes. It was such fun, choosing and wearing the clothes she was supposed to wear \u2014 the more expensive, the better, because it all reflected on her husband. At the best of times, she felt like her husband&amp;#039;s colleague: Ed would brief her on the people they would be dining with and prime her on whom to flatter, whom to ignore. Earlier in their marriage, he&amp;#039;d liked to have sex after an important business-related event and, in a weird way, that had made her feel useful. But after all these years, the sex was irregular and brief. Still, when she stopped taking the Pill, she assumed she&amp;#039;d get pregnant within months. And she did. Two months later, she miscarried. Ed was kind to her, on his way out the door to another meeting. He didn&amp;#039;t want more children \u2014 he already had three. So Lexi never told him about the two other miscarriages. She quickly learned, and constantly was reminded, that Ed liked her when she was perfect and distant, but in her imperfect neediness, she was on her own. Okay, she did have one friend. Gloria. Thank goodness for Gloria. Two years ago, bored with herself and tired of feeling insecure because she was less knowledgeable than Ed&amp;#039;s older, more experienced crowd, Lexi told him she wanted to go back to college. Nonsense, Ed said. In the first place, that would tie her down, so she couldn&amp;#039;t travel with him, and in the second place, how embarrassing would it be for him to have a wife in college? He had children in college! But he agreed she could have a tutor. So brilliant, funny, warmhearted Gloria Ruben entered her life \u2014 and changed her life. Gloria taught literature and theater criticism at City College of New York and supplemented her income with tutoring. She had been divorced twice, and she had two teenage children and a constellation of relatives and friends and lovers who were always needing her, but she still made time to accompany Lexi to a new play or a concert at Carnegie Hall. And when Lexi had a miscarriage, Gloria mourned with her, and nursed her, tucking her in bed with pillows and bringing her chocolates and a pile of new novels.  Lexi could certainly use Gloria&amp;#039;s warmth and generosity today. Once again, a sudden flood of blood and an agonizing clench of pain had announced the end to the hopes she&amp;#039;d nourished over the past two months. She&amp;#039;d been scheduled to attend a luncheon for the hospital committee, but she&amp;#039;d phoned and left her regrets. Her regrets. With each passing day, she regretted the way she&amp;#039;d left Nantucket. She burned with shame at the memory of that last vitriolic battle with her parents. She&amp;#039;d called them narrow-minded ignoramuses. She&amp;#039;d said horrible things to Clare too, although Clare \u2014 Lexi couldn&amp;#039;t help but smile at the memory \u2014 had given as good as she&amp;#039;d got. Those final arguments had been so savage that when Lexi left the island to marry Ed, she&amp;#039;d done it all alone. No one drove her to the airport, no one waved good-bye or wished her good luck. Then, as now, she was on her own. But she would not allow herself to lurk like a spoiled 4-year-old, hiding in her closet and feeling sorry for herself. She&amp;#039;d get out, she&amp;#039;d do something, she&amp;#039;d have fun. She&amp;#039;d phone Gloria. Ed didn&amp;#039;t like Lexi socializing with Gloria \u2014 he said she shouldn&amp;#039;t be so chummy with the help. She had argued with him about that, and while she rarely stood up to Ed, she was proud that she&amp;#039;d risked his contempt by insisting that Gloria was her friend. Today, Lexi could really use a friend. Wiping her tears away, Lexi walked through the small dressing room that connected the closet to the master bedroom and opened the door. And stopped short. She saw a gleam of skin and a blur of movement. A man and a woman were in her bed together, naked. She put a hand out to the wall for support. &amp;quot;Ed?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Jesus!&amp;quot; Ed unceremoniously dumped the naked woman on her side and sat up, red with anger. &amp;quot;What are you doing here? I thought you were at that hospital luncheon.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;I...I canceled.&amp;quot; Her head seemed to be full of sparks. She couldn&amp;#039;t stop staring. &amp;quot;Look,&amp;quot; Ed&amp;#039;s tone was exasperated, &amp;quot;get out of here, Lexi. Go on, damn it. Let us get dressed.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Okay,&amp;quot; Lexi said reasonably. &amp;quot;I will. But....&amp;quot; She inched forward. &amp;quot;Gloria? Is that you?&amp;quot; Gloria peeked out from behind a sheet. &amp;quot;Lexi, I&amp;#039;m sorry.&amp;quot; Her black hair was mussed, her face mottled. Lexi walked out of the bedroom and down the magnificent staircase into the living room. Footsteps clattered down the stairs behind her. The front door opened. Voices murmured. The door closed. Then Ed was in the room with Lexi. He&amp;#039;d pulled on a pair of chinos and a pink-and-white-striped shirt; he was rolling up the sleeves as he talked.  &amp;quot;Lexi, look, I didn&amp;#039;t mean for you to see that. I thought you were out of the house.&amp;quot; She stared at him. He was 50 now and almost completely bald. Despite the hours he put in at the gym with his trainer, he was growing a belly. But that didn&amp;#039;t matter. It wouldn&amp;#039;t have mattered if she loved him. She did not love him, but she didn&amp;#039;t hate him either. But at last she saw him clearly. She took a deep breath. &amp;quot;Ed, I want a divorce.&amp;quot;  2007 On an ordinary April day, the blue and white Hy-Line catamaran sped toward Nantucket Island. Lexi leaned on the rail, letting the wind whip her hair against her cheeks, not minding the cold damp lashing. She was returning home. In the distance, a gray smudge on the horizon indicated the presence of land. Lexi laughed out loud. How had she managed to live without her island? The ferry slowed, gliding into the boat basin on the sheltered side of the island. She saw the white spire of the Congregational church rising above the village sheltering along the shore, and the stubby white Brant Point lighthouse. She saw, in the distance, the golden blur of Moon Shell Beach. Lexi tugged her cashmere cap down over her long blonde hair and wrapped her scarf around her face, nestling her chin and mouth down for warmth as she stepped off the ferry. She walked along Water Street, up past the library and post office, and down Main Street. Even after all her years away, she could make this walk blindfolded. Finally, she came to a stop in front of the building she had leased two weeks earlier. A two-story wooden structure, it was shingled and gray and as square and forthright as a Puritan with its white trim and granite stoop. It was a duplex, with 1,500 feet of open space on ground level, and another 1,500 feet on the second floor, where Lexi would make her new home. It was ironic \u2014 and perhaps some kind of omen? \u2014 that Clare Hart&amp;#039;s chocolate shop occupied the space next door. She would call Clare soon. She would. But for now she just turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. Lexi walked the length of the room, envisioning changes: dressing rooms at the back, with full-length mirrors, little benches, and doors or curtains for privacy. Racks for the clothing would hang along the two side walls, and she&amp;#039;d display the jewelry in two glass cases along the middle aisle. She felt rejuvenated, ready to roll. The depression she had muddled in like a gluey swamp had dissolved the moment she told Ed she wanted a divorce. Every day since then, she had felt stronger, braver, and more complete. She was free of Ed and that bizarre mistake of a life.  Penny Vincent and her husband lived in a small cottage on a rutted dirt road near the eastern tip of the island. Clare arrived to find Penny curled up on the sofa, nursing her gigantic baby. In high school, copper-haired, muscular, sensible Penny had been field hockey captain and star of the swim team, so it was no surprise that her square-headed baby looked like a miniature quarterback. Clare allowed herself a moment of yearning pleasure as she gazed down at Penny&amp;#039;s baby, with his sweet bald head, then she kicked off her clogs and settled into a chair. &amp;quot;Okay&amp;quot; \u2014 she blew on her hot chocolate \u2014 &amp;quot;spill.&amp;quot; Penny had promised major gossip when she&amp;#039;d called Clare earlier that morning. Now she paused dramatically, enjoying her moment of power, before announcing, &amp;quot;Lexi Laney has come back.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Get out!&amp;quot; Clare almost slopped her cocoa out of its mug. With practiced ease, Penny brought Mikey to a sitting position on her knees and patted his back gently. &amp;quot;You haven&amp;#039;t been in touch with her at all?&amp;quot; Clare ran her finger over the plaid pattern in the chair cover. &amp;quot;Oh, after she left, I got a few letters. I never wrote back. Which, I hasten to add, was not my fault. Her letters were always postmarked from some exotic spot in Europe.&amp;quot; Sipping her hot chocolate, Clare reflected a moment, then admitted, &amp;quot;To be honest, I didn&amp;#039;t want to get back in touch. She made me feel like what she&amp;#039;d called me: a provincial peasant.&amp;quot; Penny thought for a moment. &amp;quot;She must have missed the island. Since she&amp;#039;s coming back here. She must have missed you. And gosh, you must have missed her.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Truthfully? I really don&amp;#039;t know, Penny. I guess I miss who she used to be when we were kids. If she wants to be friends again, why didn&amp;#039;t she tell me she was moving back here?&amp;quot; Calmly, Penny suggested, &amp;quot;Maybe she was afraid of the reception she&amp;#039;d get.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Look,&amp;quot; Clare snapped, &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m not the one who started it all. I&amp;#039;m not the one who called me names and left.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;No, you were the one who called her names and stayed.&amp;quot; Penny gazed down at her sleeping baby. &amp;quot;Hey, you&amp;#039;re a big girl now, Clare. You&amp;#039;ve got your own great business, and you&amp;#039;re engaged to Jesse. Lexi can&amp;#039;t hurt you ever again as much as she did before.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Right. Because she&amp;#039;s not going to get the chance.&amp;quot;  Want more Moon Shell Beach? Read Part 2 here. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.redbookmag.com/love-sex/a3586/moon-shell-beach-one/>