But the post made people curious about where she was. She’d been off all social media since she came to Nantucket—no Facebook, Twitter or Instagram. But a few days ago, she made that post and popped onto Facebook and immediately left after seeing post after post of people wondering where she was and who she was with, as if they knew her. She knew that was all part of being a celebrity, but still, it was a little unnerving.

The cashier, a young girl who looked about sixteen, rang them up and as she handed Bella her charge slip, she paused.

“You look so familiar. I was trying to figure out where I knew you from and it just hit me. Has anyone ever told you that you look like Cami Carmichael? It’s the smile I think.”

Bella nodded. “I get that now and then. She’s much prettier, though, and has lighter hair.”

“Right. Her hair is gorgeous. Anyway, thanks for coming in.”

When they stepped outside, Julia whispered, “Well, that was close. Is that the first time someone has sort of recognized you?”

“Yes. I think she bought that it wasn’t me, though.”

“I think she did, but I’m not so sure about the people who were standing right behind us. I thought I got a glimpse of someone snapping a picture with their cellphone. It might not have been of you, though. It probably wasn’t.”

Bella felt a little sick to her stomach. She’d been thoroughly enjoying being an anonymous tourist and moving about the island freely without worrying about being recognized. “I hope not.”

They called for a ride back to the hotel and relaxed for a bit in the room. They’d both picked up a few new books in the bookstore downtown and read for a while before showering and getting ready to head down to dinner.

It was Bella’s first time actually eating in the restaurant, though she’d ordered room service many times. She’d never wanted to eat alone there and attract too much attention.

They had a reservation and were taken right to their table, which was by a window with a breathtaking view of the ocean.

“It’s so close, I almost feel like we’re on a cruise ship,” Julia said as they sat down.

The room was beautifully elegant, with rich navy silk window treatments and gold and navy carpeting. Everything else was white—the linens, plates and flowers in square crystal vases.

Their server was an older man in his fifties, Bella guessed. His name was Ramon and he proudly told them that he’d just celebrated his twentieth year of working at The Whitley.

“And I understand that our chef, Nick, has a special tasting menu for you tonight. He’s picked out matching wines as well for each course, if that suits you? Or you could order cocktails.”