It feels like a joy ride, even in David’s staid lawyer car, the Cadillac. They have the windows down, Elvis on the radio, and Bill Crimmins—who Kate thought might be hesitant to join them—lounging across the back seat, enjoying the fine leather.
“I’m so glad you called,” Bill says. “The house feels too big now that she’s gone.”
“But Pick is staying with you,” Kate says. She finds she’s relieved that Pick has shown up—as long as Lorraine is safely on the West Coast—so that there’s someone to keep an eye on Bill.
They rumble down Barrett Farm Road through the open landscape until they come upon a line of parked cars and Kate hears music. She climbs out of the Cadillac in her bare feet. She’s wearing a paisley beach cover-up, which is the only thing in her closet that looks even vaguely exotic. If Kate travels back a hundred years—okay, forty—she’s a teenager being naughty, sneaking out of All’s Fair while her parents sleep and hopping in the back of Trip Belknap’s Studebaker, heading to a fire just like this one, populated with boys who do not yet know they’ll soon be heading off to war.
Tonight, instead of defying her parents, Kate is defying her children.
Young people only. Bah!
Kate is nearly to the beach when she sees a young couple huddled together, obviously trying to make a clandestine escape.
“Blair?” Kate says. Blair is with…Joey Whalen. Surprise, surprise.
“Mom?” Blair says. Her face has always been easy to read and her expression now is one of sheer horror. She’s been caught. With Joey.
Joey doesn’t look caught, however. Joey is too smooth to ever look caught. “Hey, Mrs. Levin, Mr. Levin, Mr. Crimmins,” he says. He spins around and flings his arm open like a game show host, as though the beach and the fire and the assembled crowd and even the ocean beyond are their grand prize. “Welcome!”
Blair and Joey, together—is that such a bad thing? Kate wonders. Joey Whalen is much better suited to Blair’s temperament than Angus ever was.
Joey and Blair dutifully escort the old people with their brittle bones down onto the sand.
Blair takes Kate’s elbow. “What are you doing here, Mom?”
Kate wants to say, You are hardly one to be asking questions. But instead, she smiles. “I came to party,” she says, and this sounds so absurd, they both laugh. “Would you fetch me a drink, please, dear, and let your brother and sisters know I’m here.”
“There’s nothing to drink except keg beer,” Blair says.
“That’s fine,” Kate says. “I’ll have a beer.”
“You will?”
“I will.”
Blair returns with a foamy beer in a plastic cup and clearly she has also made the announcement because soon, Kate is surrounded by her children—Tiger and Magee, who look happier and more relaxed than Kate has seen them in years; Kirby, who Kate expects to be angry but who instead throws her arms around her mother in what appears to be glee; Jessie and an incredibly handsome, upright young man whom Kate recognizes as Pick Crimmins.
The song changes and a cry goes up. The kids form a circle and start dancing. This, Kate knows, is her cue to exit, but suddenly David is on one side of her and Bill Crimmins is on the other and they, too, are part of the circle.
The lyrics announce the obvious: We are family!
Kirby dances in the middle of the circle and everyone cheers her on. She is replaced by Jessie and Jessie is replaced by Magee.
Magee can really dance. How did Kate not know this?
Magee heads straight for Kate with her arms outstretched.
“Your turn, darling,” David says, placing an encouraging hand on her back.
My turn? Kate thinks. Surely not. Exalta would never in a million years have been caught in the middle of a circle dancing to a disco song.
It takes only a second for Kate to realize that she isn’t Exalta. She is Kate Nichols Foley Levin, the new matriarch of this gathered family. She is in charge now and she will make her own decisions.
Kate passes off her cup to David and dances through the sand to the center of the circle. Her family cheers.
That’s right, she thinks. She may be old, but she still has some surprises left.
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About the Author
Elin Hilderbrand was born on July 17, 1969, in Boston, Massachusetts. She has used her fifty years to write twenty-five novels and raise three children on Nantucket Island.
elinhilderbrand.net
Books by Elin Hilderbrand
Summer of ’69
Paradise Series
Winter in Paradise
What Happens in Paradise
Troubles in Paradise (Coming Fall 2020)
The Perfect Couple
The Identicals
Here’s to Us
The Rumor
The Matchmaker
Winter Street Series
Winter Street
Winter Stroll
Winter Storms
Winter Solstice
Summer of '79: A Summer of '69 Story Page 6