I read chapter after chapter of Winter Street before and after Seven Peaks. Hilderbrand’s haunting black and white images of the Nantucket landscape had been in my mind for weeks. I imagined her driving a jeep down back roads of an island as she drove from Boston down to Hyannis and The Ferry. The cesarean section of twins with a prolapsed cord process was a painstaking one that required an O. R. packed with drugs so potent not to mention explosive we kept the oxygen on and babies out of life flight.
