Page 16 of A Nantucket Season
Against all odds, Aurora managed to fall asleep that morning. She awoke just after ten-thirty when, downstairs on the family side of the house, she heard members of the Copperfield family laughing together, probably having an after-dinner drink, gazing at the stars. For all she knew, the artists from the residency had also joined them, engaging with Bernard and Greta in ways she’d longed to since she’d applied for the residency. Oh, gosh. She was so broken.
That night, Aurora worked tirelessly on her painting, only breaking when she was suddenly struck with lyrics to a song that she desperately needed to write. Because she didn’t want to wake the entire house with her guitar playing, she hummed to herself at the window, dreaming up the rest of the song. In the distance, the first light of the morning had begun to float over the ocean, and her brain spoke the words that her mother had so often said,“I can’t believe I made it another day.”
At seven o’clock that morning, just before Aurora planned to head back to her bedroom, there was a knock at the door of the studio. Aurora expected Barbie, perhaps with a question about Brooks and his telephone number, but instead, it was Greta, smiling warmly. In her hand was a small plate, upon which she carried two freshly baked croissant. Immediately upon looking at them, Aurora’s mouth watered. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten more than a bowl of cereal or a little bit of yogurt. She was famished.
“Morning!” Greta said. “Do you mind if I come in for a second?”
Aurora felt like a deer in headlights. One part of her wanted to run away from Greta, to hide in her bedroom until nighttime, but another knew that if she avoided Greta, she wouldn’t be allowed to eat that croissant. In the end, her desire for the carb won.
“Isn’t it a pretty morning?” Greta stepped through the studio and gazed out the window at a view that she’d seen thousands upon thousands of times. Aurora wanted to ask if Greta ever forgot to appreciate the view or if it ever looked lackluster to her, but she didn’t.
“Do you mind if I look at your work?” Greta asked.
Aurora shook her head, watching Greta with an ominous feeling in her chest. Greta stepped around the easel, then took in the painting that, at least in Aurora’s mind, was a reflection of her ravenous and angry soul right now. Greta’s eyes glinted. A part of Aurora thought she would scream, cry, and demand why Aurora had made something so monstrous in her house.
But instead, Greta stepped back toward the wall and sat down in a spare chair, one Aurora had never sat in before. She then patted the chair next to her and said, “Aurora, please. Sit with me. I can’t eat a croissant by myself.”
Aurora went to Greta, sat, and then, after Greta nodded, took one of the croissants. It was so flaky that part of its skin floated to the ground.
“So,” Greta began, “how are you liking it here?”
Aurora swallowed the lump in her throat, sensing that she wasn’t allowed to eat until she talked a little bit. “I really like it.”
“That’s good,” Greta said. “Your painting is…” She trailed off, and Aurora thought she might have a heart attack. “It’s extraordinary.”
Aurora continued to stare at Greta, unsure of what to say.
“I’ve noticed you’re working at night,” Greta said, then took a bite of her croissant.
Aurora nodded, embarrassed.
“And that’s working for you okay?”
Aurora nodded again, unsure if she’d ever said anything interesting in her entire life.
“My husband is the same way,” Greta said. “He loves to write deep into the night. I never understood it. I was always a morning writer.” She smiled. “But that’s the thing about this process, isn’t it? It’s unique. It’s individual. And that’s part of the reason I wanted to start The Copperfield House residency. I wanted everyone to bring a unique perspective.” She laughed. “It’s just too bad that your schedule doesn’t allow you to eat dinner with us. We’d love to get to know you.”
Aurora’s cheeks burned.
“And I hate to brag, but I really am a pretty good cook,” Greta added. “And honey, if you don’t eat that croissant right now, I might have to eat it for you.”
Aurora couldn’t help but smile. It was the first smile she’d offered anyone since Monday, the night she’d given it all on that bar stage, and it felt foreign and bizarre on her face. Still, just because of Greta’s warmth, she took a bite from the croissant, moaning at how dang buttery, soft, and flaky it was. It was better than any baked good from the grocery store— that was for sure. And she’d never had the money for a fancy bakery.
“Is it okay?” Greta asked, frowning.
Aurora laughed, again surprising herself. “It’s so good, Greta. I can’t even believe it.” The carbs went straight to her head, and warmth flooded her arms and legs, proof that she hadn’t been eating enough. But how could she when she disliked herself so much right now?
“Oh, good. Listen, honey. I want to let you know that we’re here to help you with your career. If you have any questions, please, don’t hesitate to reach out. You’re an extension of our family during your time here. And I don’t want you to feel lonely.”
Aurora wasn’t sure if she’d ever spent a day of her life not lonely. The offer was startling, and her heart lifted into her throat. “Thank you,” she managed.
Greta’s eyes flicked toward the window, and she stood, peering out at the beach. “Look at this man walking along the beach! I don’t think I’ve seen so many flowers in a bouquet before.”
Aurora walked slowly to the window, her limbs like lead. When she followed Greta’s gaze, she nearly fell against the glass with shock. There, striding through the sand, fighting the morning wind, was Brooks. In his hand was a bouquet of peonies, gorgeous, plump bulbs of pinkish purple. A split-second later, Brooks redirected his strides and headed for The Copperfield House, his frown proof of his nerves.
“Isn’t that Brooks?” Greta’s voice sharpened as she turned back toward Aurora. “You know him, don’t you?”
Aurora wasn’t sure what to say. But as she stuttered with disbelief, Brooks disappeared around the side of the house. A moment later came the stunted sound of someone knocking on the family side of the house. Greta laughed.