Deacon fears she’s right.


A popular pastime in California is finding oneself, and Deacon gets swept along. He needs to find himself. He needs a job. Deacon and Belinda eat at Spago. They eat at the Ivy. Deacon toys with getting a job in the kitchen of one or the other, but how can he work as a line cook when he’s dating the most sought-after actress in Hollywood?

When summer rolls around, Deacon persuades Belinda to go to Nantucket, although the second she agrees, he starts to worry. As much as he loves the house, when he looks at it through her eyes, he sees only what’s wrong with it: a peeling linoleum floor in the kitchen, rooms that haven’t been painted in twenty-five years, sand permanently embedded between the floorboards.

Matters are made worse when they arrive in the middle of a nor’easter-driving rain and wind gusts up to fifty miles an hour. Nantucket is the greatest place on earth on a sunny summer day, but in the rain, it’s worthless. They’ve been in the house less than an hour-just enough time for Belinda to perfect her “brave face”-when the power goes out. Deacon figures this is either the best-case scenario or the worst. He lights a fire, he brings pillows and a blanket down from the bedroom, he makes a nest. He finds a bag of marshmallows in the cabinet-bingo!

“Cozy, right?” he says to her. He’s afraid she’s going to turn her nose up at him or start screaming, because in this kind of wind, the house feels like a cup of dice God is shaking. Life with Belinda, he’s realized, is a prison of high expectations.

She surprises him by snuggling up and resting her head against his heart. “Right,” she says.


It’s in the rudimentary kitchen of the Nantucket house that Deacon starts to develop recipes. Belinda has a sweet tooth, so he makes a fluffy white champagne cake with champagne icing and champagne-candied strawberries.

When she tastes it, she swoons.

“Oh my God,” she says. She says that she has never been as in love with anyone or anything as much as him… and that cake. “Let’s make a baby.”


It’s six months later, and, although sex is now Deacon’s cool second job, he can’t get Belinda pregnant. She goes to the doctor and gets checked out and insists he do the same. He jerks off in a cup so that they can check the sperm count. His sperm count is fine. He already knew this, he tells Belinda, because he got Laurel pregnant without even trying. This sets Belinda crying. She feels like a failure, she says. She feels like she’s less of a woman. With his own money, Deacon books a suite at the Four Seasons in Santa Barbara. He plies her with vodka martinis and gets to work.

Later that month, she gets her period.

Now he feels like a failure. But then, out of the blue, he gets a call from Luther Davey, owner of the TruBlue Entertainment Group, saying he wants to open tricoastal restaurants called Raindance, one in L.A., one in Chicago, one in New York, and he wants Deacon to be the executive chef of all three.

Yes, Deacon says right away. He doesn’t ask Belinda her opinion, which is a mistake. She becomes hysterical when he tells her. She takes the clamshell that Deacon got so many years ago with his father on Nantucket, and which sits in a hallowed place on the mantel, and she throws it into the swimming pool. Deacon is so livid that he grabs Belinda by the forearm. Her arm is delicate; he could easily break it with just one hand. He could throw her into the pool and watch her drown. But then he comes to his senses. He lets Belinda go, and he dives to the bottom of the pool to rescue his shell.


He takes the job at Raindance.

He signs a forty-page prenup, after which he and Belinda are married by her yogi on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Buck is the only other person in attendance.

Belinda decides she wants to adopt a baby. She somehow finds a newborn in an orphanage in the Australian outback, and the next thing Deacon knows, Belinda is flying to Perth to pick up their new daughter, Angela. They will call her Angie, after the Rolling Stones song that is their favorite.


When Angie is five years old and ready for kindergarten, Deacon lobbies to move back to New York. He is there half-time anyway, and he doesn’t want L.A. to be all Angie experiences. She deserves better. She is the coolest kid that Deacon has ever known, and, despite the fact that Los Angeles is the second-largest metropolis in the country, it’s not as racially integrated as New York. Look at Rodney King!

It’s impossible for Belinda to argue about Rodney King. It’s impossible for Belinda to argue that California is not, at its essence, a dominion of blond girls. Angie might not be discriminated against, but she could easily be ignored or overlooked.

Belinda succumbs. She will allow a move to New York. They will get an apartment in the Waldorf Towers. Angie will go to private school-at Chapin, Spence, or Nightingale-Bamford.

But… Belinda won’t be around as much as she was in L.A. (Was she around in L.A.? Deacon spent all his days off with Angie, teaching her how to squeeze the juice out of a lemon, crack an egg, measure flour.) Belinda is in negotiations to play Mai Hanh in The Delta-a role she wants more than she wants to breathe-but this will mean three to six months of filming in Vietnam. It won’t matter where Deacon and Angie are, because Belinda won’t be home either way.

We have to get a proper nanny, Belinda says. Not a Mexican housekeeper, like they had in L.A., but someone professional and organized and whimsical and kind. A Mary Poppins.


Belinda interviews thirty girls. There are fat girls, Goth girls, British girls; there is a woman with a mustache who scares Deacon with her list of rules. There is a woman who has a graduate degree in molecular biology; there is a girl with red, chafed nostrils who clearly likes to party downtown.

And then, number thirty-one: Scarlett Oliver, from Savannah, Georgia.

Deacon happens to be in the apartment when Scarlett arrives. She is tall and slender, with dark hair to her waist and a pearly-white smile. Too pretty, Deacon thinks right away. Belinda will never hire her.

Scarlett reveals that she is a debutante from Savannah. Belinda will never hire her. This will be one of those interviews that lasts four minutes.

Belinda says, “What exactly does that mean, ‘a debutante’?”

“Well,” Scarlett says. “It means I had a debut. It’s a ball where one is presented to society.”

“I was presented to society half-naked in Brilliant Disguise,” Belinda says, then she laughs at herself. “Have you ever seen it?”

“Only about forty times,” Scarlett says. “It’s my favorite movie.”

Oh boy, Deacon thinks. To a one, all the nanny candidates have been gushing fans. To a one, all have asked Belinda for her autograph, even the Goth girl.

“Let me introduce you to Angie,” Belinda says.

What? Deacon thinks. Meeting Angie means Scarlett made it through the first gate. Is that possible? Deacon pokes his head out of the kitchen and sees Scarlett’s lovely long legs in denim shorts. He doesn’t know whether to pray that she gets hired or pray that she doesn’t.


She gets hired. Frankly, Deacon can’t believe it. She is way too beautiful, and Belinda, as famous as she is, finds other beautiful women threatening.

“What made you hire Scarlett?” Deacon asks.

“Gut feeling,” Belinda says. “She was so good with Angie. Angie hung on to her neck when it was time for her to go. She hasn’t done that with anyone else. I feel like she’s meant to be in our lives.”


What Belinda says, goes. Scarlett is around 24-7 in the apartment, wearing shorts and halter tops and half shirts that show off her perfectly flat, pale stomach. Deacon tries to make himself immune to her beauty and her innocence. And her Southern accent. She teaches Angie the phrase “Gimme some sugar.” When Scarlett says this, Angie purses her lips and gives Scarlett a kiss. Then Scarlett says, “Now, give Daddy some sugar.” And Angie gives Deacon a kiss while Deacon looks at Scarlett.


Belinda films in Vietnam for so long, Deacon forgets what she looks like. He is very busy at Raindance, but he manages to wrangle ten days off in August to go to Nantucket with Angie, who is six, and Hayes, who is fourteen. Deacon is under the delusion that Hayes will be able to watch Angie and earn some pocket money. But this notion is quashed in an email from Belinda.

Hayes is not a suitable babysitter, she writes. If he goes chasing a girl down the beach or gets wrapped up in his skim-boarding, Angie will drown.

Take Scarlett, please, Belinda writes. I implore you. It will put my mind at ease.

And so, the four of them go on vacation together-Deacon, Scarlett, Hayes, and Angie. Everyone on Nantucket assumes Scarlett is Deacon’s mistress; he grows weary of explaining that he is still married to Belinda, but she is on location overseas, filming. Scarlett is just their nanny, like Mary Poppins. Eventually, he stops bothering.

Hayes is fascinated by Scarlett and follows her around as night follows day. Deacon can only imagine that Hayes is entertaining some pretty impure thoughts about Scarlett, which serves as a distraction from Deacon’s own impure thoughts. Deacon sleeps in the master bedroom, and Scarlett takes the bedroom right next door. She is so close, he can hear her turning over in bed at night, which leaves him with an aching erection.

And then one evening, Deacon is lighting the grill on the back deck while Scarlett is in the outdoor shower. He hears her squeal as the water goes cold. She shuts the water off and says, “Deacon?”

He freezes. He feels caught.

“Yes?” he says. He’s trying to figure out where the kids are. Angie is upstairs, he guesses, playing with her dollhouse, a pastime that occupies her for hours on end.

“Is there anything I can do to get the water hot again?” she asks.

“Nothing,” he says. “Except to wait forty-seven minutes.”

She peeks her head over the shower door. “You could come in here and wait with me,” she says.

Here it is: the invitation. Inevitable, he supposes. Belinda is far away, and he and Scarlett have been masquerading as husband and wife, going grocery shopping together and sharing an ice cream cone when they take the kids to the Juice Bar-he licks first, then she says Gimme some sugar and she licks.

Plus, they are on vacation, on an island thirty miles out to sea; they have been plucked out of their usual roles. They feel removed, safe.

“Scarlett,” he says. His tone hits halfway between stern (How dare you!) and pleading (Please don’t).

She smiles at him. She is so, so pretty! So sweet! So helpful! But Deacon will not be that guy. He heads inside and decides to cut the vacation short. They leave Nantucket the next day.


Fluffy White Champagne Cake with Champagne Candied Strawberries

MAKES ONE 8 × 8-INCH CAKE

1¼ cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

¼ teaspoon salt

½ cup unsalted butter

1½ cups white sugar

1 whole large egg plus 2 large egg whites

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

½ cup whole milk

Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Grease an 8 × 8-inch baking pan with butter, then pour some flour in the pan and shake it around until the bottom and sides are covered. Dump the excess flour out.

In a bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt.

In the bowl of an electric mixer, beat the butter on medium speed until creamy. Add in the sugar and beat until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the egg and egg whites in one at a time, beating for a minute after each addition. Add in the vanilla extract, making sure to scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl if needed. Add in half the dry ingredients, mixing on low speed, then add in the milk. Finish with the rest of the dry ingredients, beating until the batter is combined and smooth.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for 27 to 32 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let cool completely before frosting.

CHAMPAGNE FROSTING

½ cup unsalted butter

4 ounces cream cheese, softened

4½ cups powdered sugar

3 to 5 tablespoons champagne

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Place the butter and cream cheese in the bowl of an electric mixer and beat on medium speed until creamy. With the mixer on low speed, gradually add the powdered sugar, beating until combined. The frosting will look crumbly, but continue to scrape down the sides and the bottom of the bowl until it’s somewhat combined. Slowly drizzle in the champagne, 1 to 2 tablespoons at a time. You can do this in between additions of the powdered sugar if needed, but I find it works best at the end. Beat in the vanilla extract.