The High Season

by Judy Blundell

  “Compasses aren’t tuned, genius,” she said, and saw him flinch. “Does Jem know?”

  “No.” Mike ran a hand through his hair. “Something is going on with her this summer. She’s become so secretive…Adeline thinks—”

  “Excuse me, do I care what Adeline thinks?”

  “—that we should expose Jem to new things, open up her world a bit, get her away from Meret that way. That’s why she invited her to Roberta’s. She’s a good person, Ruthie. She wants us all to be friends.”

  “Really? What a swell idea.”

  An exaggerated sigh.

  “We’re not telling Jem about you two,” she said. “This could all dissolve after Labor Day.”

  “It won’t.”

  “You sound sure of something that just began.”

  “It’s been more than a month.”

  “Oh, come on. Did you start sleeping together the day she came?”

  Under any other circumstances, the look on Mike’s face would have been comical.

  “I’m sorry. What can I say? It was the thunderbolt. Wasn’t this inevitable for one of us?”

  Inevitable? Sure. Maybe. She had braced herself for Mike’s first girlfriend, his lovers. If he’d had one or two, she hadn’t known.

  “I’m in love,” he said.

  She dropped her head in her hands and laughed. Her head pounded, the headache back in force now.

  “You’re in love,” she said. “The two of you. Wouldn’t you say that there are some obvious differences between you?”

  “She’s less than ten years older. She’s fifty-six.”

  Ruthie raised one eyebrow.

  “She has money. Yes. I get it, Ruthie. She travels in circles in New York that I’ve never had access to. But she’s just a girl who grew up on a farm. She came here from California and became a waitress. She happened to fall in love with an artist.”

  “Oh, my God. Is that what she said? ‘I’m just a girl from a farm’? Are you kidding me? Is that how she presents her story? Peter Clay was famous when she met him. He was thirty years older than she was!”

  “She loved him.”

  “So did his wife and child.”

  “You know they had a terrible marriage. You told me what it was like. Peter fell in love with her. He pursued her. She was young—”

  “She was past thirty. She was an aging waitress in a SoHo restaurant who saw her chance. She took what she wanted. And now she’s taking you.”

  Mike’s face flushed. “She’s not taking me. Nobody’s being taken, nobody’s going anywhere.”

  “Yes, she has a sudden whim for the simple life. She’s trying it on with her handyman. She likes to remake herself every five years, and hey, perfect timing, you show up with a pickup truck and a hammer.”

  “Have you been talking to Lucas?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “If I were you, I’d stay away from him. She’s been bailing him out for years.”

  “And now she’s bailing you! How sweet. What’s going to happen when she goes back to New York? Are you going to put on a suit—she’ll buy it, of course—and go with her to those charity events? Get photographed? Wait, I can see the headline now—the carpenter and the lady.”

  Another hit. Mike pressed his lips together and looked away. This was exhilarating. Ruthie had crossed over to a new realm of combat, where you actually can say whatever you want. Even in their worst arguments when they were married they were careful to stay away from the most bitter truths about each other. They never stuck in the blade and wiggled it.

  But this? This felt fine.

  “You were never mean like this,” Mike said.

  And didn’t he count on that? Didn’t everyone? “I’m just getting started.”

  “I can’t see the future,” Mike said. “Who can? I just know I’ve never felt like this before.”

  Ruthie’s breath whistled out her nose.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s true,” Mike said. “And if you’re honest, you can admit that what we had was love, absolutely, but it never felt…fated. We were never swept away.”

  “And her money has nothing to do with it,” she said. “That’s hilarious. Poor you, brought up a Dutton, a legacy to Choate and Yale. You got every advantage a rich white boy gets. Except the inheritance. And now you’ve got it. Money and connections. Are you going to be an artist again, Mike? Hang out with Tom McGreevy? Be introduced to his dealer?” She looked at his face. “Oh, that’s already happened, hasn’t it? She’s a fast mover.” She laughed. “Well, I knew that already.”

  “Thanks for the confidence, sweetheart. Did you ever think that an art dealer might be interested in my work? You never thought I was good enough—”

  “I did! I thought you were good enough!” She tossed her coffee on the lawn. “It was you who quit! You always quit when things get hard. Well, you’ve got your insulation back. Your privilege. Just check your balls at the door. Don’t worry, she’ll buy you a new pair!”

  He rose angrily, and she followed him. “You’ll sit at their tables. You’ll tell your stories with a glass of wine in your hand and they’ll laugh—”

  “Stop it!”

  “—and you’ll get what you always wanted in the bargain. What you never really had.”

  “Don’t fucking say it.”

  She spit the words out in his face. “A mommy.”

  His skin stretched tight on his face, his mouth a bloodless line. “I have never been so close to hitting you as I am right now.”

  “Go ahead! Make it worse! Let’s just burn down the whole barn!”

  In a sudden movement that made Mike rear back, she picked up the side table. Her coffee cup went skittering as she threw the table into the pool. They watched it sink.

  “What the hell, Ruthie! This isn’t you!” He came toward her with such ferocity she shrank back. “We were never an us,” he said. “I tried. You never made room for an us.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Mike looked away, over at the glittering sea. “I’ve felt more at home in that house in the last month than I ever did.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

  “It’s a terrible thing to feel.”

  “Jesus, your self-pity is sickening!”

  “Can we please not do this? We loved each other. Can’t we hang on to that? I don’t want to hurt you, you’re pushing this—I loved you, but I was never in love with you. I was never in love with anyone,” Mike said. “Until now. Now I know what fate is. I’m positive we can stay friends if we just face things. Things can be better. For all of us. For Jem.”

  Jem. She pictured Adeline and Jem walking through the revolving door at MoMA. Lunching in some small, exquisite French restaurant. It would be warm, and Adeline would look slender and fresh in her summer dress and sandals, with her perfect pedicured feet.

  She pictured Jem being driven to Yale, because now they could afford the tuition, Adeline would pay, and thus it would be Mike and Adeline who drove her up. Ruthie would take the bus to New Haven and stay in a bad motel. On the walk to campus, she’d get mugged.

  “I called an attorney,” Mike said. “I think it’s time we finalized this.”

  She grabbed the back of a chair. She felt the wood underneath her hands and she wanted to dig her nails in and come up with splinters to flick at him, sharp and flecked with her blood. “You think I was controlling, that I managed you? Well, you needed managing. You think Adeline Clay isn’t managing you already? Introducing you to the right people, grooming you? Where did you get that shirt, anyway? You’re her problem. She’ll probably hire you a therapist. You’ll be her fixer-upper.”

  “Mommy!”

  She turned. Jem behind her, looking from one to the other. “Daddy? Are you seeing Adeline Clay?”

 
“Sweetie, we can talk about it on the way to work.” Mike ran his hands through his hair. “Do you have your stuff?”

  “What’s happening?” Jem looked afraid. “What are you two talking about?”

  Ruthie turned back to Mike. “She is not getting the house.”

  They glared at each other, enemies.

  “Mommy!” Jem cried. “Why is the table in the pool?”

  28

  THE BELFRY NEWS was out, and the phone calls and emails began.

  * * *

  —

  SAMANTHA WIGGINS: “WE started out hating Mindy and now it’s spread to hating each other. This board used to be fun. Honestly? I think she’s emotionally disturbed. Ruthie, I’ll help you any way I can. Shall I see if I can talk to people?”

  * * *

  —

  CRYSTAL SCANLON: “I can’t believe this! Well, actually? I can. She’s such a pill. But Ruthie, what can we do? Let’s have lunch next week, I’ve got a household of guests.”

  * * *

  —

  EDITH HOLLIMAN: “I called Mindy about this as soon as I heard. She said that it’s better for the Belfry, and it’s better for you. The place has to move forward out of a box, or something. What does Carole think?”

  * * *

  —

  STEPHANIE GREEN: “I can’t believe this. It’s a coup. I didn’t know anything about it! I’m calling Mindy right now. Ugh. Nobody likes that woman except Gloria. And everyone hates Gloria.”

  * * *

  —

  WALKER HOLLAND: “CATHA gave a presentation to the exec committee on taking over the job permanently. She has some good ideas. The North Fork really is changing. There are new markets to tap. And Mindy is such a force.”

  * * *

  —

  TOM CRANDALL: “MINDY told us that we can’t talk to you. It’s against board policy. She’s hired her father’s attorney. She’s always so thorough. I’m sorry, Ruthie. It was a great run. We’ll just have to see where it goes.”

  * * *

  —

  PAM WOLFER: “I can’t imagine the Belfry without you. Are you selling your house? Because my daughter is looking.”

  * * *

  —

  CLARK “QUADS” FUND: “They suck.”

  * * *

  —

  TOBIE PINCUS: “I told Catha that she was a traitor and a skunk. Right to her face. She started to cry and say how hard it was for her. The staff is furious. We hate her! Did you know she’s been undermining you for at least a year? She knew there were board members who didn’t think she was doing a good job, so she went after yours. Even after you protected her. I was there, I saw it. You had her back, she stuck a knife in yours. It’s nice when things work out that way.”

  * * *

  —

  GUS ROMANY: “MUSEUM boards are brutal, baby. Get out while you can.”

  * * *

  —

  SAMANTHA WIGGINS: “I can’t get in touch with Carole. Don’t they have cellphones in France?”

  From: Ruth Beamish

  To: Carole Berlinger

  Subject: need advice

  Carole, the merde hit the fan at the meeting. I resigned. I found out that Catha has been campaigning for my job. I know you’re exploring stone circles or something but can you write back? I need advice! And tranquilizers.

  Thx, xo r

  From: Catha Lugner

  To: Ruth Beamish

  Subject: this mess

  Ruthie,

  Crazy times, huh? Mindy said you were leaving and asked me to step up. I hope you can recognize that it’s for the good of the institution that we both worked so hard for. I’m sure there will be exciting new things on the horizon for you! Midlife change is awesome. Let’s stay friends during this transitional time! I sent you and Jem a basket from Locavoracious. Be on the lookout!

  xo CSL

  From: Catha

  To: Ruthie

  Subject: disappointed

  There really was no need to throw the basket on my porch. The raccoons dragged all the food all over the lawn. I’m sorry you can’t be an adult about this.

  From: Ruthie

  To: Catha

  Re: disappointed

  Fuck you, Iago.

  From: Penny Kaplan

  To: Ruth Beamish

  I just heard. Holy shit!

  …The Chinese ideogram for crisis is danger and opportunity you know. You could get a tattoo.

  From: Elena Serrano

  To: Ruth Beamish

  I’m starting a petition for reinstatement. Come over for coffee.

  29

  PENNY ADDED A plop of whiskey to Ruthie’s coffee. Ruthie had sat in the same chair at the kitchen table when she told them Mike was leaving her. Penny had leaned toward her in the very same way, her fists on the table. Ruthie had the same expectation, that Penny would excoriate her enemy and then map out a plan for a new life.

  “That Mindy,” Penny said. “She’s a venomous…ah, mealworm. And Catha. Didn’t I tell you? A smug, self-aggrandizing cardboard lady.”

  “Cardboard lady?”

  “Look, I think we can turn this around,” Elena said. “I’ve been making calls. People are outraged. They know you made the Belfry what it is. You are a part of this community. We can get up a petition. You have a huge amount of support.”

  “Please don’t,” Ruthie said. “It won’t do any good. And frankly, if we cause a fuss it could impact my severance. Mindy has a hotshot attorney from Manhattan. The nondisclosure is like I worked for deep ops.”

  “We can’t let them get away with it!” Penny cried.

  “Worse things happen every day, and you know it,” Ruthie said.

  “That’s my point,” Penny declared, waving her mug. “What’s wrong with people? Is lying and betrayal not only okay now, but you actually get rewarded for it?”

  “Yes!” Ruthie and Elena said together.

  “I need to tell you something else,” Ruthie said. “That. Mike,” she got out. “Is sleeping. With Adeline Clay. Since Memorial Day weekend!”

  “Wow,” Penny said. “I mean, oh. Bastard.”

  She saw by their faces that they hadn’t known, and she felt better. Elena and Penny dragged their chairs closer to surround her, and Elena held one hand and Penny held another, and she told them how she found out, and that she’d thrown a glass and chopped down a tree (muffled guffaw from Penny), and how she was a mouse with a collapsing skeleton, and that her life was shit.

  Penny squeezed her hand. “You know this was inevitable.”

  “It was either you or him,” Elena said. “Somebody was going to get a lover.”

  “You two seemed to be able to do it, but nobody can really do it,” Penny said.

  “You can’t sleep with your ex on a regular basis without paying the piper,” Elena said.

  “Sleep with my ex?” Ruthie looked from Elena to Penny.

  Penny’s head bobbed backward in a gesture she knew well. “You and Mike aren’t still sleeping together?”

  “We just assumed…” Elena said.

  “Or else how did it work?” Penny asked.

  “We’re friends,” Ruthie said. “I mean, we were.”

  “But…neither one of you was ever with anyone else since the divorce,” Penny said. “You saw each other all the time.”

  “And it’s been three years,” Elena said.

  Penny and Elena exchanged glances.

  Elena patted her knee. “Now, let’s just sit here and look at this. Mike is having a summer affair. A ridiculous summer affair with a ridiculous summer woman, so obviously it will end by Labor Day.”

  “Am I really this pathetic that I need to hear that?”

  �
�You’re not pathetic, sweetie,” Penny said. “No matter how you look right now. Look, can I say this? Mike set this up. I love him, I do—though I’m really, really mad at him right now—but he’s the one who insisted that you could be friends. He pursued that, doll. He was so guilty about breaking up his family and so terrified at losing Jem that he made the rules. He came up with the Wednesday-night dinner and the cookouts and the sitting together at school events.”

  “And he was the one who put off the divorce. He wanted to be an intact family without the commitment,” Elena said.

  Ruthie wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Elena handed her a napkin. “She wants to buy my house. I guess he needs a dowry. Ha. The thing is, we always had this agreement that if one person really, really wants to sell, we’d sell.”

  “Can you buy Mike out?” Elena asked.

  “I don’t have that kind of money.”

  “Nobody does,” Penny said. “Well, I mean, not nobody. Just not us.”

  “Well, we’ll be unemployed together,” Ruthie said.

  Penny shot a glance at Elena that clearly signaled that they did not feel comfortable being happy in front of her.

  “You got a job!” Ruthie cried.

  Penny nodded. “Woodhull Vineyard is opening a restaurant. A soft opening in the fall.”

  “Fantastic!”

  “It hasn’t been announced yet, it’s still under wraps. It’s a gorgeous space overlooking the vineyard.”

  “You’re the chef?”

  “I’m planning the menu.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “With Roberta Verona. Do you know her? She’s an amazing chef. Her name will be prominent, of course, I get that, but I’ll get to run the kitchen.”

  Ruthie leaned back. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, isn’t it great?”

  “Roberta is Adeline’s best friend.”