She did it, Harper thinks. Instead of tearing down Billy’s house and turning it into a pile of rubble, Tabitha saved it. Harper feels simultaneously proud of her sister and ashamed of herself for being so shortsighted. Harper tries not to guess how much money Tabitha spent to make this happen. It’s not like she plunked the money down on a craps table in Vegas, though. They will sell this house; Harper can see that now. They will see a sizable payday. Harper isn’t sure why she’s surprised that Tabitha was right about this. Tabitha is always right.

Harper approaches the stairs. The crappy mustard-yellow Aztec-print carpet has been removed. The wooden treads are exposed and now feature a navy-blue wool runner with a white diamond pattern. Classic. Harper looks up. The world’s ugliest chandelier has been replaced by a simple blown-glass globe surrounding an Edison bulb. Gorgeous. A staircase that used to be merely a means to an end is now a work of art in and of itself.

As Harper climbs the stairs, she hears a noise.

“Tabitha?” she says.

Harper peers in the lavender room, which used to be her room. It has been painted a creamy beige; the little bedroom is now sage green. The bathroom between the two has a new pedestal sink and a glass shower stall; it’s in the process of being retiled.

The noise is coming from Billy’s room. It sounds like crying, but that can’t be right. Harper fears walking in on something.

“Tabitha?” she says a little louder.

The noise becomes clearer. Crying. It’s her sister, crying.

Harper pokes her head in the room. The floors are now a deep, rich cherry. Unlike all the other rooms, in which the furniture has been removed, Billy’s king-size bed remains, along with the stacked milk crates that he saw fit to use as a nightstand. Maybe Tabitha is crying because it’s so ugly, Harper thinks, and this makes her smile, although obviously something serious is going on, and Harper mentally prepares herself for the news that Eleanor’s condition has worsened.

“Tabitha?” Harper says, too loudly to be ignored now. “It’s Harper. I’m here. What’s wrong?”

Tabitha lifts her head out of the nest of pillows. Her face is contorted in anguish, her eyes are swollen, her face splotched, her hair tangled. She’s wearing a man’s Hot Tin Roof T-shirt and a pair of denim shorts. The shorts are Current/Elliott and retail for a hundred and fifty dollars at the ERF boutique. Harper congratulates herself for recognizing this, and it reassures her that this is, in fact, her sister before her.

Tabitha in a Hot Tin Roof T-shirt, though—wow. There is a first time for everything.

“What’s wrong?” Tabitha says. She plucks a tissue from a box on the milk crates and wipes at her face. “What’s wrong is that you ruined my life. Again.”

“I did… what?” Harper says. “How did I ruin your life this time?” She takes a deep breath and tries to think what she might possibly have done. “I’ve been following your instructions. I take care of Ainsley. She hasn’t had a drink all summer. Hasn’t gone to a single party. Hasn’t gotten in any trouble. And the store—okay, maybe things at the store aren’t exactly the way that you and Mommy want them. But sales are up five hundred percent!”

“I don’t care about the store!” Tabitha says. “I could care less about the store or Mommy. I care about me. For the first time ever in my life, practically, I care about myself.”

“What?” Harper says. “I’m lost.”

“I fell in love,” Tabitha says.

“Whoa,” Harper says. “With whom?” Try as she might, she can’t imagine Tabitha falling in love with anyone on the Vineyard. Except for maybe Ken Doll. Has Tabitha fallen in love with Ken Doll?

“Franklin Phelps,” Tabitha says.

With Franklin Phelps? Harper thinks. It takes her a moment to connect the dots. Then she sucks in her breath. Tabitha has fallen in love with Franklin Phelps. Sadie’s brother.

“I met him at the Ritz,” Tabitha says. “He was singing. And while he was singing, some jackass started hitting on me at the bar.”

“Jackass?” Harper says. She knows many, many people who fit this description.

“Franklin saved me. He brought me home.”

“When was this?” Harper asks.

“My first night here,” Tabitha says. “And then Franklin took on this job. He’s the general contractor.”

“He is?” Harper says. “I saw Tad leaving, but I didn’t think… I mean, forgive my asking, but you knew he was Sadie’s brother, right?”

“How would I know that?” Tabitha says. “I had no idea, and he didn’t tell me. But then when I found out he was a contractor and I asked him to work on the house, he said he couldn’t. He said there were extenuating circumstances, but he wouldn’t tell me what they were. Then he changed his mind and agreed to work on the house. I mean, have you even seen this place? It’s incredible.”

“Incredible,” Harper says. Her heart is constricting. The house is incredible, and the idea of Tabitha and Franklin working together to make it so is crazy and wonderful—two people Harper would never have put together in her mind, but she can see it now.

“Then he had dinner with his parents, and Sadie was there, and I guess she isn’t doing well, but it was still okay, sort of, until Sadie found out that Franklin is working here and dating me. She can’t handle it. She asked him to stay away from me.”

“And he listened to her?” Harper says. “He’s a grown man, first of all, and second of all, you’re not me.”

“You don’t get it,” Tabitha says. She manages to rise from the bed, but she seems smaller, waiflike; heartbreak has diminished her. “Sadie is his sister. And you are my sister.”

“And I ruin everything,” Harper says.

“You ruin everything,” Tabitha says. “I’ve basically lived in fear of people spitting on me since I’ve been here. Random strangers are bad enough, Harper. But this. This!”

“You should have told me you were seeing Franklin,” Harper says. “I would have warned you.”

“Warned me you were screwing his sister’s husband?”

“Yes,” Harper says.

“You are incredibly selfish,” Tabitha says. “And you always have been. You went with Billy. You left me and never looked back.”

Harper stares. Tabitha is hurting, she reminds herself. She is venomous like this because she hurts. But now that Tabitha has brought it up, Harper is being given something she has never had before: a chance to defend herself. “That’s not true. What we did was fair. We shot for it. I even gave you best out of three, Pony, and you still lost. And no one was more surprised than I was. Getting to go with Billy was the only time I ever beat you at anything. And you’ve made me feel awful about it for my entire adult life.”

“After Julian died, I promised myself—”

“What happened with Julian wasn’t my fault,” Harper says. “And it wasn’t your fault. It was nobody’s fault, Tabitha.” It feels wonderful to state her case after all these years of silence. “Julian was sick. He died. It was tragic, Tabitha, and I can’t pretend to know what it feels like to lose a child, but I assume it’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt times a thousand, or times a hundred thousand. I never understood why you blamed me, why you ordered me out of the house, forbade me from coming to the funeral, and banished me from your life, but you are always right and I am always wrong, so I didn’t even question it. I accepted the blame! For fourteen years, Tabitha, I thought I was evil. That’s probably why I got messed up with Joey Bowen. I thought so little of myself: what did it matter if I delivered a package for him? What did it matter if I went to jail? What did it matter if I ended up floating facedown in Edgartown harbor? You had already made me feel despicable. And come to think of it, maybe that’s why I’ve had such trouble with men. Because I was waiting for one of them to assure me I had value. Reed Zimmer was the person who finally did that. He loved me, which made me feel like I was better than I had believed myself to be since Julian died. I knew he was married, and I knew what I was doing was wrong. But I was powerless in the face of how much I loved him and how much I needed him to love me. Maybe now that you’re in love with Franklin, you can understand that.”