“You said Philippe wasn’t coming; that’s the only reason I asked Annabelle and Arthur,” Caroline said, trying to keep her skyrocketing nerves from being detectable. “Eddie, tell me that’s not true. You specifically said Philippe was staying behind to mind the horses and this was all about the grooms, guys who never get to go out on a weekend. We agreed that was a lovely idea for them, but not for Philippe! He’s in charge of the stable, hardly needs attention and rewards today!”
“Why the fuck do you care if he comes?”
“Dad sweared,” Gigi said. “I get five dollars.”
“Arthur suggested we add Philippe,” Eddie explained. “Not to make him stay and work. He checked in yesterday specifically to make sure he was included. He said his girls adore Philippe and a barn lobster fest wouldn’t be the same without him!”
Arthur knew.
Arthur wanted Philippe there to make his wife writhe and twist with guilt, nerves, the knowledge he never didn’t know things.
That cold-ass, conniving European motherfucker.
Caroline took out her phone to text Annabelle, but as they pulled into the parking lot, she could see her friend waiting, with her cute, devilish husband. He was rubbing his short beard in anticipation with one hand, the other tightly grabbing the hip of his bride, his woman.
“Daddy, make the car park by itself,” Theo said. “Put your hands in the air!”
Thinking about the awkward lunch ahead, Caroline started to sweat and took off her light cardigan. The fact that her four-year-old knew about the auto-park feature on his father’s new $100,000 Tesla, or that her kids’ favorite restaurant featured thirty-five-dollar lobster rolls and sixty-eight-dollar boiled lobsters were the least of her problems. But they were problems, nonetheless.
Chapter 32
I’ll Have the Intravenous Sedative, Sir!
Caroline hadn’t believed Annabelle was capable of experiencing fear or trepidation.
Until now.
Eddie put Theo on his shoulders and carried Gigi, the kids hanging off him like monkeys. He walked toward Annabelle and Arthur waiting outside Duryea’s at the curb. Caroline, five paces behind Eddie, tried to signal her friend with an expression that said, Holy shit! Philippe is here, but Arthur would have intercepted it from across the lane. Caroline looked at him and waved, trying to act cool, just a lovely little lunch ahead. But Arthur was smiling at her, letting her know that nothing passes him by.
He knew she knew.
And she knew he knew.
A mob of Montauk hipsters in ripped thirty-dollar surf shorts and worn four-hundred-dollar sneakers, some glamorous would-be or should-be or actually-are models, and a few families crowded around the entrance to Duryea’s. New Yorkers accustomed to having their way could be heard yelling at the hostesses, “We made a reservation a month ago. I’ve got my wife, my in-laws, it’s been forty-five minutes, and you don’t even . . .”
Caroline shot Eddie a look and said, “Honey, maybe we should all just grab something at the Clam Bar on the highway. That way we can just stand and go as we please.”
“Who wants fried calamari, kids?” Eddie yelled out, hugging them tighter. “Who wants lobsters and hot butter?”
“We do!” Gigi said as she bolted from Eddie’s arms and ran to Rosie and Thierry, who were also waiting on the sidewalk.
“Hey, Arthur, Annabelle, everyone,” Eddie shouted. “I got this covered, wait a sec, just let me check and I’ll be right out to get you all.” He charged through the throngs like an offensive lineman, albeit one in five-hundred-dollar purple suede moccasins from Salvatore Ferragamo.
Caroline stood next to Annabelle and Arthur and said to them, “Eddie just loves a party, sometimes he doesn’t understand how crowded things can get. So, you guys, if it’s too much . . .”
“The girls are inside,” Arthur said. “They wanted to see the lobster tank and that twenty-pounder they’ve got. Besides, Philippe is so crafty, he’ll handle it, wouldn’t you agree, Caroline?”
Annabelle’s pallor matched her blond hair. She was busted and helpless.
“That lobster is huge,” Caroline blurted out. “I mean, it’s almost prehistoric . . .”
“I wasn’t asking your opinion on the crustacean, Caroline,” Arthur said with authoritarian conviction that he inherited from his ancestors. “I was referring to Philippe, the trainer. You must know him well. Don’t you agree he’s crafty? You must find him almost irresistible, no?”
“Well, I, yes, he’s a good trainer, knows horses in and out.”
“Looks like he knows the in and out of so much in life, wouldn’t you agree, my darling?” He turned to Annabelle, and said, “I look forward to getting to know him at lunch. Hopefully the service will be horrendous, and we’ll have lots of time to get to know each other.”
Arthur walked to the far end of the crowd where his girls stood before the lobster tank. Upon hearing that their table was ready, he guided his four beauties past the families who had been waiting for an hour. Arthur ignored the dirty looks of those deemed less socially desirable in the eyes of the owners.
Annabelle gripped Caroline’s wrist so hard, it hurt. “Arthur is so goddamned ruthless, it scares me what he does to make a point,” she said.
“You know the barn lunch was specifically planned to exclude Philippe, timed when he has all his lessons. Eddie promised me, but then Arthur called and intervened,” Caroline told her. “I mean, are we going to actually have lunch with your husband and your lover?”
“I think so.” Annabelle managed to whisper, her face almost paralyzed. “And was that ‘in and out’ reference really necessary?”
“Oh my God, okay, okay,” Caroline said. “I’ll talk a lot, change the topic, move the service, do anything I can.”
The dashing manager, Steven Jauffrineau, took both ladies by their elbows and guided them to the Sea Crest Stables table for seventeen: seven children, including the two Clarkson siblings, the von Tattenbachs’ four girls, and Rosie; her uncle Thierry, four grooms, two wealthy couples, and one playboy.
Chapter 33
No Free Lunch in This World
“Philippe, you choose the wine,” offered Arthur, handing him the list. “Just don’t order a Lafite; you’ve robbed me enough this summer with stable fees, complete with those private lessons. Of course, perhaps you’re worth the expense? Is he darling? As we said, he knows the in and out of so much in life!”
Philippe was sitting two spots from Arthur, with Annabelle between them.
From across the table, Eddie said, “Yo, Philippe, don’t listen to him! Order the best. Get rosé and white! You French gotta know wine better than me.”
Arthur leaned over his wife and looked Philippe in the eye. “Well, now, Philippe, don’t go taking from another man too much this summer. I mean there are limits.” Arthur perused the wine list, peeping over his reading glasses, and said, “For example, this Montrachet at four hundred and seventy-five dollars would be a little much. I’m sure you understand too much? Like taking a man’s money and then taking even more from him.”
Annabelle’s gaze was fixed straight ahead as if she were posing for a mug shot. Philippe put on his Persol sunglasses and clinked his water glass. “I, uh, thank you!” was all he said to Arthur. He banged Annabelle’s right knee with his left knee so hard that her upper body nudged her husband’s. She never wavered, though, not even looking to Caroline for salvation.
Eddie, unfazed by the tripartite drama two feet in front of him, yelled down to the kids’ end of the table, “Hey, Theo, Gigi! Should I get that huge lobster for lunch, or you wanna keep him as a pet?” Then Eddie waylaid the manager as he was trying to deliver a bucket of ice to the adjacent table. “Yo, Steven! How much for the big monster lobster in the tank? Name the price, you crazy frog!”
Eddie was on one of his rolls, whipping everyone up, feeding on the excitement of the white-hot restaurant. Caroline patted his arm and said, “Honey, let’s just move this along. Annabelle
is tired, and it’s crowded so . . .”
“C’mon, baby! It’s a gorgeous day, all our favorite people are here,” Eddie said. “The kids are so happy to celebrate with the grooms. Look at ’em, everyone down there is talking and laughing. It’s great for barn relations. What’s the rush? Don’t you agree, Annabelle?”
Annabelle nodded, agreeing to anything just to move time forward. Under the table, Philippe rubbed his leg against hers, and whispered in her ear, “Your husband has no idea, right?”
She kicked his leg for his audacity to touch her now, even discreetly. Then, she took a gulp of ice water and another and another. She nearly choked and had to wipe her chin with her napkin.
“By in and out,” Philippe whispered in Annabelle’s ear, “your husband wasn’t referring to me and his wife, right? Please tell me that.”
She whispered, “He meant what you think he meant.”
“In and out of you? He meant that?”
“Oui, Philippe,” she whispered, then grabbed a hunk of baguette, submerged it in olive oil, and raised her eyebrow at him.
“Merde!” Philippe mouthed silently.
Caroline stood up, fumbling for an excuse to get her friend out of the room. “Annabelle, let’s go order for everyone. We don’t need to spend a ton of time filling out the forms here. That’s how they order here. We’ll get a variety of stuff and share. Besides, moms know what everyone likes.”
But Eddie stood instead of Annabelle. “Nah, baby, we got this,” he said. “I’m hosting. They’re all cramped and cozy on their side of the table.” He shook his index finger at them. “You guys, stay, chat a little in the sunshine out here. I’ll go with you, honey. Lunch is on me anyway!” Eddie brought Caroline over to the counter where patrons filled out checklists of what they wanted and paid. “What’s with you, baby? You seem stressed. I did this lunch for you! You were so game when I suggested it a week ago. You loved Duryea’s as a kid, and what fun to take the grooms out, and Thierry and Rosie and . . .”
“Honey, minor thing, but Duryea’s back then was a true fish shack, not a Euro scene, but you’re right, and thank you,” she said. “You’re always trying, it’s just . . .”
“Just what? Tell me, baby, what’s bothering you. You’re my best friend, I’m yours, just tell me, would ya? I hate it when you keep secrets.”
Caroline saw the line of patrons ahead of them and gauged the time it would take to even order. She considered the value of telling Eddie, so he could at least help ease the stress on Annabelle, who was now talking to the kids at their side of the table. Philippe, thankfully, had excused himself and was speaking French to the owners. Arthur was alone on his side of the table for a moment, and he placed his meaty arm on the back of the picnic bench and stared out to sea, the salty summer breeze blowing his strawberry-gray hair off his face. He rubbed his beard a bit, thinking, pleased with himself for engineering so much discomfort for his silly, wandering wife and that shithead trainer in the tight pants that hopefully strangled the life out of his dick.
Chapter 34
A Not-So-Perfect Perfect Day
Caroline looked over Eddie’s shoulder as he was making marks on the ordering checklist: sixteen lobsters, eight lobster rolls, eight orders of clams, calamari, and oysters. “Honey, that’s crazy, that’s two dishes per person, kids don’t each need, lemme just . . .”
Caroline stopped mid-sentence.
A couple at the front of the line turned around and started walking toward them. Ryan Miller waved sheepishly, and his wife, Suzy, paused, taking the lead from her husband, unsure if he wanted to stop and say hi.
“Oh, hi” was all Caroline could muster.
“Hello,” Ryan answered awkwardly.
Ryan kept walking in a line, but Eddie tapped him on the arm before he could pass. “Hey man, don’t I know you? Did we go to school together?”
“Eddie, it’s fine,” said Caroline. “Let them . . .”
“No! I know him! It’s gonna stick with me all day if we don’t . . .”
“We, uh, met at the barn party. We went to East Hampton High,” Ryan answered, sounding like someone had just jammed a pointy heel into his foot.
Caroline pulled Eddie toward her and began checking every box on the form. “We sure did! Now, Eddie, everyone’s hungry! Why not add mussels? Maybe some of the kids want fries . . .”
Eddie ignored her. “No, it wasn’t school,” he said, stomping his fragile moccasin (he got four pairs for summer because they scuffed up so easily) and slapping his forehead, trying to conjure a recollection of Ryan. “I’m sure of that. It was somewhere else. You surf? Maybe I used to see you out at Turtles? Or was it North Bar? Fortress?”
“Uh, not really those breaks, not much. This is, uh, my wife, Suzy,” Ryan said, looking at Caroline and pulling Suzy’s hand off his elbow as if he had been caught cheating with his own wife.
Caroline couldn’t help but peek up at Suzy. Her wild mass of blond curly hair framed an angelic face with blue eyes and high cheekbones like a lioness. She had broad shoulders and large breasts that Caroline decided were all natural and far nicer than hers. Wearing cropped jeans and a white linen button-down, she had endless legs like Annabelle’s and a tight waist highlighted by a braided, brown leather belt. No woman had great legs and great boobs; it was one or the other. Suzy looked like she jumped out of a Ralph Lauren magazine spread: the kind of freckled, clean, all-American beauty who never used a blow-dryer because that silly primping clashed with her free spirit. Caroline shook her head, vowing not to give in to any competitive nonsense. She studied the menu instead, praying Eddie would focus on moving lunch along and give up on Ryan and Suzy. “Honey, the food? Can we order?” Caroline asked.
Eddie ignored her. “So, maybe not surfing. You still live in East Hampton? I’m sure I know you from something else,” Eddie said. “Remind me of your name? I’m Eddie Clarkson. You know Caroline apparently.”
“Uh, just, yeah, met her, or, like re-met her from way back I guess,” he said. “I’m Ryan.”
Eddie pumped his hand. “And you?”
“She’s, uh, here with me, uh, Suzy, my wife, we’re celebrating our anniversary actually. We don’t come here much,” Ryan offered, for no particular reason except to fill the air.
Caroline reached the front of the line and started to order, hoping that Eddie would focus on the food and not the man she’d been shagging all summer. She said, “Actually, Eddie, your order ideas are all good, you want to double-check . . .”
“We played Ultimate Frisbee together, that was it! Yah, we did,” Eddie said to Ryan, nodding. “You were one strong dude, I remember that! Let’s get you both a glass of bubbly. Caroline, c’mon, just order whatever you think best for seventeen, honey. Ryan and Suzy’s order will take twenty minutes, ours longer, I’m gonna get a jeroboam of champagne. Let’s share that big, four-bottle bad boy with the barn guys, with the happy couple from high school. C’mon!” Eddie smacked Ryan on the back and guided him over to the big table. Eddie introduced him to the group: “It’s an East Hampton High reunion and the best month of summer!”
“No, no, honey, no!” Caroline said, rushing over and glaring at Annabelle. “They want to be alone!”
Annabelle remained with her elbows tight against her sides, not wanting to have contact with either the man to her left or the one to her right.
“It’s honestly fine,” Suzy said, understanding a guy like Eddie wasn’t going to give up. “I like champagne, and Ryan doesn’t drink much, so I’m happy to have a glass.” She smiled warmly at her fellow suffering spouse, Caroline, which only made Caroline more anxious. The last thing she wanted was girl bonding.
Eddie pulled two chairs up to the edge of their table, and asked the waiter, “Yo, bring a jeroboam of Moët, buddy. Put a sparkler on the top, ’cause, what the hell, it’s a perfect day!”
Before Ryan and Suzy could even wedge into their chairs, the waiters had brought a chilled, enormous, almost joke-size bottle of Moët &
Chandon. A huge sparkler was sticking out of the top, spraying glittering embers all around. “July Fourth is happening again in August!” Eddie yelled, slapping Ryan on the back. “I tell ya, what a day to celebrate. Hey kids, it’s their anniversary! And he, I mean, Ryan, your mom, and I went to school together!”
Eddie then nabbed the bottle from the waiter with one hand. “Yo, this is heavy, gimme a hand, Ryan, hold the bottom for me.” Then, Eddie grabbed champagne flutes from the table and proceeded to over-pour into each so that bubbles flowed down his hand. He hoisted the glasses in the air, “Happy summer, everyone. Love you, kids, and grateful to the grooms who work harder than anyone at the barn, and to Thierry and Philippe for making Sea Crest Stables a dream come true! And to our high school buddy, Ryan, and his bride. What a day! You guys just sit for a few minutes, hell, your food will take ten minutes, and I’ll keep this fresh champs chilling for the second round. C’mon man, here you go.”
Suzy took a glass and smiled at Caroline, and placing her hand gently on her shoulder, she whispered, “It’s nice of him, thanks.” Again, she signaled she understood that men like Eddie you just couldn’t stop if you tried, and that she was perfectly okay with a quick glass on such a nice day.
“So, Ryan, you played Ultimate for how long?” Eddie asked.
“Oh, God, just a few years,” Ryan said. He tilted his glass toward Caroline and then Suzy, and said, “We’re just sitting for two minutes, but thank you, uh, Eddie.”
Annabelle had by now pulled her pink linen scarf up under her eyes like a burka to hide her increasingly purple face. Caroline was more conspicuous; she looked like Munch’s The Scream, mouth open in terror.
“And what do you do now, man?” Eddie asked Ryan. “You doing good for yourself out here?”
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