EXCERPT: NANTUCKET
We didn't like to gossip; we loved to gossip.
Did you hear?
Most of the time living on Nantucket comforted us; we felt like Mother Ocean was holding us in the palm of her hand. But sometimes, the island made us restless and irritable. Winter was bad, but spring was worse because, except for a few short weeks, it was indistinguishable from winter.
What had T.S. Eliot written? April is the cruellest month.
Gossip was always the most rampant in the spring. It ran like water in a newly thawed brook; it circulated through the air like pollen. We could no sooner refrain from repeating what we'd heard than we could keep from rubbing our swollen itchy eyes.
We weren't mean spirited or vindictive or cruel; we were simply bored, and after the long stretch without summer visitors, summer money, summer magic, our reservoirs were dry.
Besides which, we were human beings, saddled with our own curiosities and our own insecurities. We were aware of things happening in the wider world - human genomes being decoded on the MIT campus, tectonic plates shifting in California, Putin waging war in Ukraine - but none of these events captured our interest like those taking place on the 105 square miles of our home island. We gossiped at the dentist, in the salon, in the produce section of the Stop & Shop, around the bar at the Boarding House; we gossiped over appetizers at the Angler's Club on Friday nights, between the pews of five o'clock Mass on Saturday nights, and in line at the Hub as we waited to buy our New York Times on Sunday mornings.
Did you hear?
There was never any way to predict who would be our subject. But if someone had told us, in the frigid. steel skied middle of April, that most of our summer would be spent whispering about Grace and Eddie Pancik . . .
. . . and Trevor Llewellyn and Madeline King . . .
. . . and about the renowned landscape architect Benton Coe . . .
. . . our mouths might have dropped open in shock.
No way.
Not possible.
They were some of the loveliest people we knew.
ABOUT 'THE RUMOR': Madeline King and Grace Pancik are best friends and the envy of Nantucket for their perfect marriages, their beautiful kids, their Sunday night double dates with their devoted husbands. But this summer, something's changed, and if there's anything Nantucket likes better than cocktails on the beach at sunset, it's a good rumor.
And rumor has it...
...that Madeline, a novelist, is battling writer's block, with a deadline looming, bills piling up, and blank pages driving her to desperation--and a desperately bad decision;
...that Grace, hard at work to transform her backyard into a garden paradise, has been collaborating a bit more closely than necessary with her ruggedly handsome landscape architect;
...that Grace's husband, successful island real estate developer "Fast Eddie" Pancik, has embarked on quite an unusual side project;
...that the storybook romance between Madeline's son, Brick, and Grace's daughter Allegra is on the rocks, heading for disaster.
As the gossip escalates, and they face the possible loss of the happy lives they've worked so hard to create, Grace and Madeline try mightily to set the record straight--but the truth might be even worse than rumor has it.
MY THOUGHTS: Dramatic. Engrossing. Deliciously trashy. And just what I needed!
A rumor, once started, takes on a life of its own. It spreads, taking on a new aspect, a new angle, each time it is repeated. Rumors are at the heart of this enticing novel by Elin Hilderbrand. Most of us have been affected by the rumor mill at some point in our lives, and very few of us could honestly say that we haven't contributed to it.
I'm not going to add any more to the book's synopsis - no spoilers from me! But I will say that I ate this delicious book up in large chunks and enjoyed every minute of it. Oh yes - and be careful what you wish for, because when you get it, what then?
⭐⭐⭐⭐.4
#TheRumor @ElinHilderbrand
THE AUTHOR: The following rumors about Elin Hilderbrand are true: she writes her novels longhand, she is a good cook, and she is a terrible gardener. Everything else is up for speculation.
DISCLOSURE: I own my copy of The Rumor by Elin Hilderbrand, rescued from a dusty life on the shelves of a second-hand bookstore.