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Authors: Carolyn Keene

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BOOK: The Phantom of Nantucket
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Pete clapped me on the shoulder. “Very impressive, Nancy. I can see why you have the reputation you do back home.”

I blushed. Compliments make me uncomfortable. All of a sudden, I thought of something. “Pete, Marni told me that she didn't touch the skeleton. Could that be true?”

Pete and Jenna exchanged a look. “Actually, as we were cleaning up, I looked at the cable under the microscope. I didn't see any evidence that anyone had tampered with it. I think it was an accident. We are very lucky that no one was hurt.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Marni hadn't put anyone in danger.

“Shouldn't you get that back to the museum?” I asked Pete and Jenna, indicating the figurehead.

“We certainly should!” Pete said.

The two of them took off, and Bess, George, and I stayed behind. Bess found the nurse, who agreed to let Marni lie down for a while before she went home. We watched as the nurse escorted Marni to her office.

“She made some really bad decisions over the past thirty-six hours,” I said, “but in her own way she was trying to do what she thought was right.”

George and Bess nodded. “It's hard to be mad at her,” Bess said. “She wanted to protect her family.”

“You weren't the one who got hit on the head,” George protested. After a beat, she continued. “I'm kidding. I'm not really mad at her. Being caught between your friends and your family is never easy.”

We stood quietly for a moment. “Should we head to this reception?” I asked. George and Bess heartily agreed.

By the time we arrived at the museum, the opening was in full swing. The place was filled to capacity. ­People were hovering in groups, sipping champagne, eating hors d'oeuvres, and happily chatting with one another. I overheard more than one person say that they had been blown away by the exhibit. You'd never guess that less than an hour ago the whole event had been in jeopardy.

“Let's find Jenna and congratulate her,” Bess said shouted over all the talking.

George and I nodded. It was hard to spot anyone in the packed room.

“When artists have an opening, they usually stand next to their work,” I said. “I wonder if it's the same for curators.”

“Should we try the exhibit room first, then?” George asked.

Bess and I agreed. We fought our way to the exhibit room, squeezing past the other guests, murmuring, “Excuse me” over and over again as we made our way through.

When we arrived at the exhibit room, I spied Jenna talking to an older gentleman in a tuxedo in front of the display case that housed the figurehead. I realized that even though I had held the figurehead in my hands, I hadn't really looked at it. I had been too focused on making sure it was returned safely to take the time to carefully examine it. In the display, under the shining lights, it was truly beautiful.

We hurried to greet Jenna, but at the last moment I noticed that the man she was chatting with was wearing a pin on the lapel of his jacket with the initials R.W.

“Wait,” I hissed, stopping George and Bess in their tracks. “What's Mr. Whitestone's first name?”

“Roger,” George quickly answered. “I saw his bio on the museum's website.”

I pointed to his pin. “I think that's him,” I whispered. “Let's not go over until they've finished talking.”

We hung back and watched. It was too loud to hear what they were saying, but after a moment they shook hands, and Jenna's face erupted into a huge smile. As soon as Mr. Whitestone walked away, we rushed over to Jenna.

“What did he say?” Bess asked.

“Did you get the job?” George piped up before Jenna even had a chance to answer the first question.

“I did!” Jenna gushed. “I got the job!” We embraced her in a giant group hug. “Mr. Whitestone said this was one of the best exhibits he has seen curated by someone of any age, and he would be thrilled if I worked here full-time.”

“That's so great!” I said.

“You deserve it,” added Bess.

“Thank you,” Jenna said. “But I couldn't have done it without all your help.”

“It was my pleasure,” I said.

“Ooh, mini quiches!” George squealed, eyeing a waiter walking by with a tray. We all laughed at how completely she had broken the sentimental mood.

“I'm still feeling a little queasy from the boat ride,” Bess said.

“Well, I'm starving!” George said, trailing after the waiter.

“Oh, there's Kelsey,” Jenna said, pointing where Kelsey was standing across the room. “Let's go congratulate her.”

Bess and I looked at each other, confused. “Congratulate her for what?” I asked.

“She's starting her own business,” Jenna explained as we crossed to Kelsey. “She told Pete right before he opened the doors for the reception.”

She embraced Kelsey in a hug. “Congratulations!” Jenna said. “I know we had our differences this summer, but I hope we can put them behind us.”

Kelsey nodded. “I'm sorry I was such a jerk. I was under a lot of stress and I took it out on you, which wasn't fair. Besides, I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with Mr. Whitestone. You're officially going to be a full-time islander!” Jenna nodded ­gratefully.

“What is your new business, if I may ask?” I asked.

“I'm dealing antiques!” Kelsey said excitedly. “I've been saving my money for the past year, and I just signed a lease for a space this week. In fact, today I finalized my first sale to Jeremiah Butler at the historical society.”

“That's what you were doing in the alley!” I blurted out. “Completing the sale.”

“Yeah . . . ,” Kelsey said, obviously surprised that I had seen that exchange.

“That's great!” Bess said. “That seems like a perfect fit for you.”

Just then I let out a huge yawn. “I'm so sorry!” I said, embarrassed.

“I'm tired too,” Bess said. “Perhaps we should think about going home and going to bed early. I have a big day planned for us tomorrow.”

“You do?” I asked.

“It's our last full day on the island,” Bess said, “and I plan on beaching, hiking, and shopping! A full vacation in a day,” she said with a laugh.

“Yeah, I'm definitely going to need a good night's sleep,” I said.

We said our good-byes, pried George away from the appetizers, and made our way back to Jenna's house.

* * *

Two days later we were headed back to River Heights. Jenna waited with us at the ferry terminal. It was early in the morning, and there was a bite in the air. It officially felt like fall.

“I talked to Marni,” Jenna said. “She's going to work at the museum for free to make up for what she did.”

“That sounds fair,” I said.

“She's also going to add a section to my exhibit about everything her great-great-grandfather did for the island.”

“That is very generous of you,” Bess said.

“In this weird way, I'm grateful to her,” Jenna said.

“Why?” George asked incredulously.

“I think it was good for someone to teach me that the past isn't just the past. It affects the present. I don't know if I would have learned that without her, and I think it will make me a better curator . . . and person.”

George nodded. I wasn't sure if she completely agreed with Jenna's assessment, but she seemed to respect it.

“Now boarding, ferry to Hyannis!” a voice boomed over a loudspeaker.

“That's us!” George said.

We hugged Jenna one last time and made our way up the gangplank to the ferry, waving good-bye as we walked.

A few minutes after we had shoved off, we noticed all the other passengers gathering on the left side of the boat.

“What's going on?' Bess wondered aloud.

“We're getting ready to throw our pennies,” a woman carrying a toddler answered, overhearing Bess's question.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“As we pass by the lighthouse, we each throw a penny and make a wish,” she explained.

As we joined the other passengers on deck, I rummaged through my purse for three pennies. I found them just in time, handing one each to George and Bess as we glided by the lighthouse.

I took a deep breath and threw my penny. I knew exactly what my wish was without even having to think about it.

“What did you guys wish for?” George asked.

“We can't tell you that!” Bess said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Then it will never come true.”

George sulked, but after a moment she perked up. “Is that a whale!?” she shouted. I followed where she was looking, just in time to see a whale in the distance breach and land back in the water with a splash.

I smiled. My wish had come true.

Dear Diary,

So maybe it wasn't the vacation I
imagined, but I do love a good mystery, and this was definitely one of those! In a way, I feel like I know Nantucket better after finding the figurehead than if I had just done the usual tourist activities. I never would have known about the tension between people who visit for the summer and those who live there year-round, for instance. Who knew such a small ­island could be so complicated?

It's sad that Marni didn't try to talk to ­Jenna about the exhibit, but she was scared for her ­grandfather and she panicked. I think Jenna is right, though. What she learned will make her a better ­museum ­curator in the future. It's important to remember that the past doesn't just stay in the past; it also affects the present.

BOOK: The Phantom of Nantucket
11.44Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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