The High Season

by Judy Blundell

  A hurricane with an alarming tendency to wobble moved up the coast. Landfall was uncertain. Weather broadcasters had been blown sideways in the Carolinas, shouting of approaching doom.

  People decided they needed bread and milk, even if they didn’t eat bread, and the country store was crowded. Everyone really just wanted to talk about the storm arriving and storms from the past. Sandy, of course. Irene, Floyd, the letdown that was Charley. There was no panic. These were Long Islanders. It was just a storm.

  Ruthie bought her bread and her milk and left the market as quickly as she could. She was now in that peculiar place of being a source of gossip. She knew the gossip wasn’t unkind, that it was sympathetic, neighbors and friends angry or worried about what had happened, but since nobody knew what had happened, speculation reigned. She knew that a petition had gone around to reinstate her. She knew many had signed it, but she also knew that Mindy had come out swinging, making phone calls with one message: “It’s better for Ruthie and better for the museum if she goes,” a form of professional assassination that was not fully recognized as the slime it was. Some people wondered if she was ill, or had embezzled. She had disappeared so fast. With her severance and nondisclosure agreement in hand, she could say little to defend herself. Instead of a lump sum, severance was being paid monthly. Mindy controlled the strings. If she said anything to defend herself, or told the truth, she knew Mindy would cut them.

  Mike and Adeline Clay were now a public couple. She had seen them eating ice cream cones at the pie shop, she had driven by them as they walked hand in hand, her own hand twitching to yank the wheel. Everyone knew, and it was either grace or caution that stopped them from bringing it up. Maybe she had started to look as feral as she felt.

  * * *

  —

  ROBERTA VERONA’S ANNUAL Bastille Day dinner party was legendary, and this year Jem and Mike were invited to be houseguests along with Adeline and Lucas. They would each have their own room, Mike told Ruthie politely and pointedly. Adeline and Lucas in the main house, Jem and Mike in the guesthouse out back. Jem wanted to go.

  Ruthie knew she was boxed in. Glamorous event, exquisite food, shiny people, Jem’s first grown-up dinner party. Jem was invited to come early and help with the cooking. Ruthie Googled the dinner, reading articles about past years in food and lifestyle magazines, the guests who came every year (artists, writers, chefs, a famous political comedian), the sprinkling of the new (musician, journalist, surfer). These were the kinds of things that kids of the privileged received, access to great talents and remarkable achievements, a sort of insider trading that is not about money, but minds. How could she say no when this was something she would give Jem if she could, these bright jewels, this glimpse of a life that could be hers?

  “Can she go?” Mike asked.

  Ah, now she knew what divorce really was. Sharing decisions with a person you would run down on the street.

  * * *

  —

  RUTHIE WAS AT the beach at Pete’s Neck watching the whitecaps when she saw Carole’s name pop up on the phone. Her desperate voicemails had finally gotten through. Carole, Mindy basically fired me but I quit. Carole, have you talked to any members of the board? Carole, Mindy’s attorney is drafting a severance agreement and I don’t know if I should hire a lawyer. Do you know anyone who can take it on pro bono? Never mind about the attorney, Mindy’s lawyer gave me a deadline, so I signed it. It’s only for six months.

  “Ruthie, it’s Carole, can you hear me?”

  “Yes! I’m so glad you called! I’ve been—”

  “Thank God I got you! I need you to do me a huge, huge favor.”

  Carole had disappeared into the Neolithic wilds of the Hebrides and ignored her for days. Now she needed help.

  If it were another friend Ruthie would communicate her disappointment, her hurt, but this was Carole, and Carole was a reference for her next job.

  “Sure.” Her voice sounded like a chirp.

  “We’re going to this event tonight. Le quatorze juillet and all that. This is what I get for insisting on packing for Lewis, the man is hopeless at it, if it were up to him he’d bring one suit. Anyway, I’m laying out his outfit and I just noticed that his watch isn’t in the case. I’ve looked everywhere.”

  Ruthie felt a drop of rain hit her forehead. She jerked away as if it were burning oil, her hand to her chest. “His watch.”

  “He bought it after his first major deal, it’s hugely expensive, he only wears it on big occasions—and I can’t find it! I have the case, just not the watch. It’s a vintage Patek Philippe. I don’t even want to tell you what he paid for it.”

  You don’t have to.

  “I’ve gone over and over this. I remember packing, and everything was just all over the bedroom, you know? Dash and Verity were fighting, and Verity had on my Louboutins and Dash had on Lewis’s Charvet tie, and I had a fit. Maybe I was busy yelling and the watch fell on the carpet and somebody kicked it or something? Would you look? If I lost that watch I’d never forgive myself and Lewis would never forgive me. Could you please, please look? Like, right this second?”

  “I’m not at the house, but of course I will,” Ruthie said.

  “Lifesaver! And what do you think about what’s going on at the museum? I just talked to Helen. Daniel Mantis is involved! Apparently he wrote a fifty-thousand-dollar check!”

  Ruthie pressed the phone so hard against her head that it might have impressed itself upon her skull. “Daniel Mantis.”

  “Apparently Mindy and Catha roped him in. It’s too bad it didn’t happen on your watch, but, really, it’s a great thing for the museum. Apparently his daughter is completely charming, too. Very artsy. I can’t wait to meet him.”

  Daniel Mantis.

  Daniel had lifted her wrist, had noticed the watch.

  “Could you call me whether you find the watch or not, okay? Please please? I’m just sick about this. À bientôt.”

  Ruthie hung up. She looked up at the scudding clouds, the lowering sky. “What the fuck!” she screamed.

  When Carole returned, she would meet Daniel. Sooner or later the watch story would come up somehow, somewhere. Two watch-loving moguls, Daniel and Lewis! The tale of the missing rare vintage Patek Philippe with the minute repeater! And Daniel would remember her, arm outstretched to point to a Rothko.

  The story would be spread through Orient and the Hamptons and move westward to Manhattan. People wouldn’t believe that she didn’t know it was real, wouldn’t quite believe that a casual offer to borrow a blouse meant she could strap Lewis’s watch on her wrist and strut around town. She would look like a fool and a cheat. And maybe they wouldn’t believe that it had simply gone missing. She was either careless or stupid or a thief.

  She was all of those things.

  She was tainted forever. She would know the meaning of the word ruined. She would know the meaning of the word shunned.

  40

  THE BAY ON her left was dark blue with a flashing knife of silver, a sharp blade of pure light. She parked the car in front of the house and got out.

  As if the day could possibly get any worse. Mike had texted her, asking her to come over. Just hear what we have to say. It’s about Jem.

  It was the we. Now Adeline and Mike were the we.

  It was afternoon and a light drizzle fell, occasionally intensifying into a pattering rain. Adeline crossed in front of the window. Mike walked toward her, and Ruthie stopped. Adeline said something. He said something.

  Adeline spoke again, and while she was speaking he reached over with one hand and put it on top of her head, lightly, and rubbed. She leaned into the touch.

  Ruthie felt her throat close.

  If someone had been walking by—Clark, say, or her other neighbor Martine—on some other random day, when she and Mike still lived in that house, what would they have seen?
Two people in the same room. One in an old sweater, catching up on her reading, or listening to a podcast while she organized something. Another passing by on his way to the kitchen to check on dinner.

  Perhaps they would exchange a word. But would you see a touch that tender?

  She walked across the yard. It gave the appearance of having hosted an unhurried day. One trail bike was propped against the tree. Another lay on the grass, as though dropped so that its owner could go on as swiftly as possible to another pleasant activity. Adeline had lined up glass canning jars filled with dahlias on the front porch. The Adirondack chair that was usually on the patio had been dragged to a corner of the yard in the shade. A book sat on its arm. Fighting years of habit, Ruthie did not pick it up to save it from the damp.

  Adeline walked out on the front porch. She stood, her hands in her pockets, and nodded a hello.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

  Adeline turned and Ruthie got a look at her muscled shoulders in a gray tank top. She was wearing a pair of loose khaki trousers and rubber flip-flops. Ruthie would have looked as though she was ready to strip paint in the outfit, but Adeline looked gorgeous, with a lariat of chunky crystal wrapped around her neck, the ends swinging with the motion of her walk.

  Mike was waiting inside. A leather duffel sat by the door along with a canvas tote. Adeline noticed her gaze. “We want to get out before the storm. We’ll pick up Jem in half an hour. Would you care for a glass of water? Iced tea? It’s so hot.”

  Ruthie shook her head so hard she felt something crack in her neck. “So you want to buy my house?”

  Adeline cocked her head. “It’s not an impulse, I promise you. It’s a solution.”

  “And I’m supposed to just roll over.”

  “Of course not.” Adeline shook her head, blond hair skimming her cheeks. “It’s your house, yours and Michael’s. I made an offer to buy it, but it’s your choice. Both of yours. It’s really simple.”

  “Of course it’s not simple,” Ruthie snapped. She felt the edge of her patience like a jagged piece of glass. “Can we have a real conversation instead of sanctimonious bullshit?”

  Mike glanced quickly, worriedly at Adeline. They were afraid of what she would do. She was a lunatic who chopped down a tree. Maybe she still had the ax. There was a luscious power to that, to being a person who would do anything.

  “Also, please stop buying Jem expensive gifts.”

  “The sweater? She was cold,” Mike said.

  “How much was the sweater?” Ruthie asked. “I’ll pay you back.”

  “It was a gift,” Adeline said.

  “It’s too expensive. She doesn’t wear things like that.”

  Adeline sighed. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I really don’t think there’s any need to hate me for it.”

  “I don’t hate you,” Ruthie said. “I just see you clearly.”

  “For Christ’s sake,” Mike said. “Ruthie, calm down. I assume you talked to Jem.”

  “I am perfectly calm, and I always talk to Jem, I’m her mother. Apparently I have to be handled. I have to be given room. I can’t have my house, but at least I get a room to change my mind in.”

  Adeline poured a glass of water from a pitcher filled with lemon slices. She pushed it toward Ruthie as if it were medicinal.

  “Let’s just get to it,” she said. “Ruthie, I’m sorry you’re upset. But you need to know something. We’re engaged.”

  “You’re engaged.” Ruthie repeated the words, trying them on to see if there was any sanity in them. “I don’t know if you know this, but Mike is still married.”

  Adeline shrugged. “A detail. You’ve been separated for three years. Divorce will be easy.”

  “Yeah, that’s what everyone says. Divorce is so easy.”

  Adeline walked over to stand next to Mike. “This is very new for everyone. We should all talk about when to tell Jem.”

  “You’ve known each other for a month!”

  “Seven weeks, and we’re adults,” Adeline said. “When you know, you know. We’ve been talking about things, and we came up with a solution that seems good for everyone. I love the house and I want to buy it.” She put up a hand. “Just hear me out. This might change things for you. When Michael and I are married, this could be a family house for Jem. If I buy it, there would be enough money for you to buy another house, anywhere you like, but in Orient, of course, if that’s where you want to stay. If you need help, a little extra, we can talk about that.”

  Adeline was speaking in a totally reasonable tone of voice. Mike was gazing at her as though she was wise and good.

  “What are you saying?” Ruthie asked. There was something underneath this, something she wasn’t getting.

  “That you’d get the asking price, and you’d get it all,” Mike said. “It would be part of the settlement.”

  “Of course I’ll have the place in the city during the winter,” Adeline went on, “but we’ll spend more time here, weekends and some holidays and so on. After the renovations.”

  “Renovations.”

  “There are improvements that can be made. Things I would want. I always think ten years ahead. We want this to be a family house, for Jem to return to as an adult. Possibly with her own family, grandchildren…”

  “Stop.” Ruthie almost strangled on the word. “Stop talking about my grandchildren or I swear to God you’ll have to hide the fucking knives.”

  Silence descended. Adeline took a sip of water.

  “I’m not your enemy,” she said. “I just happened to fall in love with your ex-husband. It happens every day. If you want to play the victim that’s your choice.”

  “I’m not playing.” Ruthie turned to Mike. “This is it, this is what you want? This woman? You let her tell me this, that you’re getting married? Don’t you see it? Don’t you see how controlling she is? Don’t you see how she’s taking everything away? Don’t you see she’s buying us?”

  Mike slammed both hands on the countertop. “She’s saving us!” he shouted. “She’s saving me. That’s what love does, it saves you!”

  “Because she’s rich?”

  “No. Because she’s kind.”

  “Michael,” Adeline said.

  Mike turned his back and walked to the window. He stared out, his back implacable.

  “The offer is made,” Adeline said. “All you have to do is take your time and think it through. You just lost your job. It’s going to take a while to get on your feet. If you sold the house to me, you’d buy time.”

  “How great for you. You can buy anything, even time. You bought my husband. But you can’t buy me.”

  “It’s a house, Ruthie. It’s not you.”

  “Or my child.”

  Adeline flushed. “All right,” she said. “There are other houses. But I’m not going away. We’re going to be family, whether you like it or not.”

  Ruthie stood in the middle of the living room, her room, her view, her home. Her memories, one after another, like a pocketful of stones.

  Her gaze traveled out to the yard, to the storage shed. She wondered, for the first time in her life, if derangement came about not because you didn’t know what you were doing, but because you knew exactly what you were doing, and you didn’t care.

  41

  From: Catha Lugner

  To: Doe Callender (bcc) +15 more

  Subject: mandatory all-staff meeting

  There will be an all-staff meeting tomorrow in the main conference room at 10am. Thank you in advance for your enthusiastic attendance! Let’s impact the future! CSL

  “Hey.”

  Doe looked up. Annie stood hesitantly in the doorway. There were splashes of red on her thighs and cheeks from sunburn. She hadn’t seen much of Annie this summer. Lark had taken over her nights. Sometimes she’d
pass Annie on her bike, riding home from the farm stand. Last summer they’d shucked corn together, paper bags between their knees. Last summer she’d been welcome at the family table.

  “Hey, dude. Enter.”

  Annie came in with a show of reluctance. Her hair was red and curly and barely tamed in a ponytail. Pretty green eyes, freckles, the shoulder-hunch of the bullied.

  “How’s life?” Doe asked.

  “Sucks to be me, basically,” Annie said. “Used to it, though.”

  Doe nodded. “I had a crap fifteenth summer, too.”

  “Why?”

  Doe searched for the way to wrap the truth in a lie. “My mom. She decided to let me down on a regular basis. I was supposed to go to…” an art program in Savannah “Europe that summer, everything was all arranged, and she…” cashed in my tuition and spent it on cocaine “decided I needed tutoring instead, so I had to stay home, and…” she got this new boyfriend who hit on me “my best friend decided to let me know that she’d been waiting for me to go to tell me she was fucking my boyfriend.” Truth at last! If Doe ended up at a truth, it made her feel better.

  “Wow,” Annie said. “Harsh.”

  “How about you?”

  “I had a fight with my mom.”

  “Yeah. I remember those days. You’ll make up, your mom is cool.”

  “She sucks.”

  “Okay,” Doe said, silently agreeing. “What else with you? How’s the job?”

  “Job is okay, I like making money. But, I don’t know, I’m becoming friends with Jem again, kinda. Proximity friendship. We used to be friends in elementary school, along with this girl Olivia? But then, you know, high school. There’s this girl, Meret?”

  “You told me. The queen of Teenworld, right?”

  “Ha, exactly. Jem was all friends with her, and now Meret is like doing the thing she does where she makes fun of her and everybody laughs. I swam with them one day, and Meret was totally being an asshole to Jem, and Jem was just taking it. And there’s all this groupchat drama about how Jem is going to lose her virginity this summer, only they call it ‘mayflower’ like some inside joke. The thing is…”