It's Hot in the Hamptons

  “Nope. I got it,” Thierry replied, blocking Caroline’s path to the trunk.

  He was acting strangely, but she let it go.

  She finally found Gigi and Rosie out in the back, soaked and filthy from working the hoses. The girls scuttled out to the field where they often constructed jumps out of logs and, pretending to be horses, cantered around and leaped over them. She was worried she’d never get them out of here, and it was time to pick up Theo.

  She yelled to the girls, “Two-minute warning! In the car before then, girls. I mean it!” The rascals didn’t even look back at her, and they rounded a corner, out of sight.

  Caroline began mentally cataloging what fresh food she had in the house. There’d be three hungry kids now; Gigi would demand a sleepover with Rosie. There was some salmon. She could coat the fish in something sweet, so it candied under the broiler. For once, the kids might agree to something that wasn’t white and starchy. Frozen veggies were a travesty during the summer on Long Island, but she did have some peas in the freezer, and with butter and some dill from her garden they’d do the trick. Lost in contemplating her maternal duties, she walked around the back of the stables in her ongoing search for the girls.

  There, she saw something she thought she’d never see again.

  The truck was there. Beneath the brim of the driver’s cap was Joey Whitten’s profile, the unmistakable square jaw. He was driving slowly across the back lot where hay, feed, and shavings were stored. She blinked a few times, wondering how her vision could betray her again, for the second time since the day she saw the Boston Whaler. She walked briskly after the truck, but it disappeared around a corner. It was almost as if the driver knew she was following him.

  The hair on the back of Caroline’s neck was standing up. She was disoriented and blinked water out of her eyes. Her brain wasn’t working; she was seeing things that weren’t there.

  She surveyed the complex before her. She saw Thierry helping grooms with a wheelbarrow and feed. A young worker hosing off an enormous black stallion. Rays of the late summer sun streaming through the droplets of spray created a rainbow around the silhouette of the wet beast.

  Over to the far right, the truck reappeared. Maybe it was a cousin of Joey’s, someone she had never met who had grown up to resemble Joey so strongly that it shook her to her core? Maybe she should introduce herself, and ask what his family name was. After all, lots of men had strong jaws. She marched toward the truck, willing herself to think more clearly.

  But then, instead of continuing on its way, the truck stopped. Caroline froze. Again, it was as if the driver knew she was trailing him. The truck backed up and turned enough so that the driver was in her line of sight.

  Joey Whitten stuck his head out of the driver’s side window.

  “No, you’re not crazy,” he said. “And it’s good to see you too. More soon.”

  Then, the truck accelerated down the road and out the back gate, racing so fast a cloud of dust hid it from view.

  Caroline leaned against a tree to support herself. She inhaled deeply, through her nose, trying to soothe her throbbing heart. Her pulse was pounding loudly inside her ears. She held her breath for several seconds, then blew it out from her sternum. And again.

  Stretching her arms wide, she splayed out her fingers. Her hands were vibrating. To steady them, she pressed her palms to her cheeks. Sliding down the tree’s trunk, she slumped into the mulch at its base. She sat cross-legged, the hard edges of the wood chips scraping the thin skin of her ankles. The pain was helping to ground her; it made her feel alive and present and not out of her mind crazy. Her bag fell from her shoulder. Her keys, makeup, and coins poured out mingled with the mulch as the bag tipped over. She was sobbing, her shoulders convulsing.

  She said out loud, to no one but herself: “I still love him.”

  Chapter 40

  Focus on the Big and the Little

  Several minutes later, Caroline felt a child’s hand tapping her gently on the head. “Mom! Are you okay? You’re being really weird.”

  She looked up at her daughter, wiping tears from her eyes and smiling so much her cheeks ached. “I’m okay. I’m okay,” she said. “I mean, I just felt dizzy for a second.” She sniffled and started laughing again.

  Joey had not drowned in the Atlantic. Why didn’t the rest of her listen to the part of her that knew he was alive? She was sure his father knew, all the times he’d said it couldn’t happen . . .

  “Mom!” Gigi said. “You’re embarrassing me. Please stand up or sit in the grass, just not in the mud. And are you crying or laughing?”

  Ten minutes later, Caroline, Gigi, and Rosie were in the parking lot. When Gigi informed her mother that she absolutely had to have a sleepover with Rosie “or she might die,” Caroline agreed. At that point, she would have let the girls take a rocket to the moon. When the girls piled into the back seat muddy and wet, Caroline didn’t even notice.

  Once they were buckled in their seats, Gigi asked, “Mom? We’re in the car. Turn it on and drive. Why are you so spaced out?”

  “I’m fine,” Caroline said, looking down Spring Farm Lane to see if the truck had returned. It hadn’t, though. It was gone.

  Caroline turned the engine on. Then she turned it off and got out of the car. She decided she would talk to Thierry about what she had seen. He always seemed like he wanted to tell her something, and now she was pretty sure it involved Joey Whitten. After a minute, she reconsidered and got back into the car. Asking Thierry about the truck might not be smart. She wouldn’t call Joey’s family either. She needed to sleuth much more first.

  She started driving and decided that cooking salmon for three hungry kids was out of the question. With a Theo energized from his playdate now picked up, she announced that she’d take them all to the Navy Beach restaurant that looked out over a calm Fort Pond Bay. It was August, and the water would still be warm enough for the kids to wash off the dirt of the day. Meanwhile, she could have a drink to quiet herself down.

  As she parked, she told the kids, “Each of you grab a bathing suit from the trunk, and a towel. I’ll let you go in the water a bit before dinner.”

  The kids ran toward the water, sand flicking up behind their heels. The early evening sun was still bright enough that she needed her sunglasses. Watching them, Caroline slipped off her sandals and felt the sand between her toes. She looked down at the slanted boulder she and Joey used to sit on by the shore. A flood of memories washed over her with the force of a tsunami.

  He’d taken her here, to Navy Beach, before they went to his parents’ house for photos with four other couples. The night of the prom she’d worn a yellow gown that cinched in the middle. She hadn’t minded that it got wrinkled and sandy at this beach at sunset. She spent the night yanking at the thick, elastic ribbon surrounding her rib cage, trying to free herself. Joey kept his arm around her waist most of the evening, and he would squeeze her breasts when they popped out of the top, apologizing for not being able to keep his hands off her.

  And at Navy Beach, Joey, in his tuxedo, so unnatural for the rough guy he was, balled up the jacket beside him. His mother had put gel in his unruly, dirty-blond hair and he’d wanted to skinny dip in the bay to wash it out.

  He’d told her things that night, at this very spot, that she’d never forget.

  I’m never leaving your side.

  “Table for four? Just you and the three kids?” the hostess asked. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “I’m totally fine,” Caroline said. “I’m sorry, I’m just distracted with the kids. I’d love to sit by that rock down there and order a glass of something and then come back up for dinner. Can you save us a table?”

  “Of course,” the hostess said. She then disappeared behind swinging doors and when she returned she had a thick cotton blanket in her hands. “Take this, it’s really nice to lean on,” she said. “That rock is a little sharp, but it’s my favorite spot too.”

  The sun now cast a purple haze that s
pread across the bay. Children were running in and out of the small lapping waves, while dogs fetched sticks and leaped in pirouettes for Frisbees and bald tennis balls. On the deck of the restaurant, sailcloth hung from wooden beams to protect the tables from the wind and sand. Mothers nibbling on baskets of crudités chattered away about how to perfect their backhands or spend their husbands’ money more creatively.

  As Caroline walked to her table, she heard one mother joke, “Eric told me I could spend whatever I wanted on the beach house. When I was done, he said I was the only woman in America who had exceeded an unlimited budget!” Loud cackles followed.

  “You guys, leave your sweatshirts here on the benches, so no one takes our seats,” Caroline told the kids. She felt so tired. “I need to go for a little walk down to that boulder, not far. Can you girls watch Theo?”

  Theo put his thumb in his mouth, and he slowly blinked. New plan: she pulled over an armchair she knew he would fall asleep in. She positioned another chair in front for him to stretch his legs out. From twenty yards down at the bay, she could watch him dozing. Caroline ripped open a packet of breadsticks with her teeth and handed them to Theo, kissing his forehead. Then she placed her iPad on his lap. “Any game, as long as you want.”

  A waitress put a special menu checklist on the table next to a jar of pencils. “You all mark off what you want.”

  “How about you girls do the ordering?” Caroline said, knowing they would order too much, but enjoy the responsibility.

  “And for you, ma’am?” Gigi asked, giggling.

  “I’ll have the fried shrimp plate. My son would love some too,” Caroline said. Normally she couldn’t be bothered with healthy-mom quinoa combos, and today she didn’t even want her favorite oysters. Fattening foods, when eaten at the right time, solved a lot of life’s problems. “Order whatever you girls want,” she told Gigi and Rosie.

  “Really?”

  “Really,” Caroline said. “It’s a special night. A very special night.”

  The left side of the boulder was round, while the middle and right side had slanted, smooth spots that sloped all the way to the sand. When she and Joey first came here, they’d sit on the top, his arm wrapped around her. Then, they’d slide down to the sand and lay back against the slanted face.

  Sitting down now, leaning against the rock, she draped her elbow across her face to exist in darkness and deep thought. Joey Whitten’s appearance had made the world spin round her so fast she buried her fingers in the sand to slow it down.

  “I’m never leaving your side,” Joey had said as they’d laid out a blanket. “Even if you marry someone else, I’m not leaving. I’ll be the painter, the contractor, the paperboy. I don’t care.”

  Caroline had smiled. “We’ll see,” she said. “We don’t even know how we’re going to make college work.”

  “Everything will work,” he’d said. “I promise. I’m not going anywhere.” They had made six good years work before that day in the currents.

  Caroline glanced over at Theo in the chair, occupied and happy with breadsticks and his screen. Down near the water, the girls were playing with other kids, making a pile of small rocks. As usual, Rosie was bossing around the whole project, making new friends, and Gigi was quietly playing along, but to the side. She was relieved that they didn’t seem interested in going deeper into the bay. If they got in over their knees, she’d have to go over. Even though a lifeguard was watching from a plastic chair, and the water was still as a skating rink, there was no way she could relax with the kids in the bay.

  The waitress came out to the beach and walked over to her with a small tray. From her supine position, she couldn’t quite tell what was on it.

  “Okay, so you got a glass of wine, fries, and garlic aioli,” she said. The girl, clearly clairvoyant, placed a white ceramic bucket of steaming French fries on the sand beside her. A sheet of pastry paper soaked up some of the cooking grease. The crystals of sea salt poured on top sparkled in the sun. “You know, I’ve had this job for three summers now,” she said to Caroline, “and sometimes, there’s a mom here who clearly needs a break.” The waitress smiled and pressed the base of a plastic goblet of white wine into the sand. It had a stick in the bottom and was designed to be planted in a beach. She looked down at Caroline and said, “French fries and white wine on a summer evening cure anything, at least in my book.”

  Caroline sipped the cool wine and felt it enter her veins like a sedative.

  “Also, just so you know, we have a service to drive people home in their own cars,” the waitress said. “The guys put their motorized bikes in the trunk and ride back. So, have a few drinks, and one of the valets will drive you and the kids home. It’s thirty dollars.”

  Caroline shielded her eyes from the sunlight and smiled at the young woman. “I’m not sure what I need and when, but all you’re doing and suggesting is helping. A lot. You’re kind to bring this down here, and even kinder to worry about me.”

  “You know what’s sort of funny?”

  “Tell me,” Caroline said.

  “I couldn’t tell if you were from out here, or from the city. At first, I thought out here, but then, well, you look so tired, so I thought maybe just city.”

  “City women are more tired?”

  “Yes. And more frazzled. They’re always stressed about when the food’s coming, when it really shouldn’t matter with this view, right?”

  Caroline started to protest that she wasn’t a rich mom from the city with no job, and that she worked hard on her designing, but she let it go. “You’re right,” she said. “There are no struggles that French fries and wine won’t fix, or at least put a Band-Aid on.”

  “That’s what my mom says too. And don’t forget the drive-home service, I remind anyone I give wine to. The cops have checkpoints everywhere around here, and they’re waiting for you.”

  “Roger that,” Caroline said, and smiled, lying back, remembering more . . . Joey’s hands always grabbing her thighs hard, the way he wouldn’t let go like he couldn’t ever get enough of her.

  A child’s foot tickled her leg. Gigi took a French fry. “Mom, you know the glass has a stick on the bottom, so it stands up in the sand?”

  Like puppies, the girls had circled back to their protector. They hovered around Caroline while looking out at the other children still playing in the sand. Soon, she knew, they would scamper away again. Theo was now asleep on the two chairs, coming down from too much candy and activity on his playdate.

  Gigi and Rosie stood beside her in bare feet and locked their arms. “Is the water cold?” Caroline asked them.

  “Not really. Can we go in?” asked Rosie.

  “Only to the top of your legs unless I’m standing with you.”

  Caroline started rubbing the crusted wet sand off their cute little feet. Then, she touched each of Rosie’s ten toes. “You girls chose a lovely purple for those toenails last week.” She pushed their feet together side by side and studied them. “Look at how similar your feet are, girls! I never noticed that, did you?”

  “Yes, Mom,” said Gigi, rolling her eyes. “Like every time we wear flip-flops. Our fourth toes both roll out, then the pinkies are back straight, but super chubby. We hate our pinkies.”

  “Yeah, we hate our pinkies,” said Rosie.

  “Well, I think you both have adorable little toes,” Caroline said, leaning on her elbow to look more closely. The girls’ big toes were identical. The index and middle toes curled over. And the fourth, in the opposite direction.

  Caroline kneeled now. She pushed the girls’ hips together, so their feet were in line.

  It was bizarre.

  Thierry was Rosie’s uncle, not her father, but she found herself wondering about his feet. Did his fourth toe curl in too?

  Her mind doubled over: Eddie had these chubby toes too. That same fourth toe. The two that curled in a little. The feet before her were miniature versions of Eddie’s.

  “Rosie, you literally have the same fe
et as Gigi! The second toe is so cute, the third even cuter, the fourth a little curly, and the pinkie all . . .”

  “We both love horses, we have the same feet, and we have the same nail polish,” Rosie said. “We’re like sisters!”

  “Can we go now, Mom? Can we go to the water, please?” Gigi asked.

  Caroline nodded and watched as the girls bounded toward the sea. Enough about the feet for now. How could she focus on anything but Joey and his casual nod, as if coming back from the dead was a daily occurrence?

  If she hadn’t encountered Joey earlier that day, she might have thought a little more about Rosie’s feet, or about her stocky—somehow familiar—waddle as she ran toward the ocean.

  Chapter 41

  That Dashing Little Binaca Trick

  Thaddeus Bradley called Annabelle from his convertible Jeep, a vintage Land Rover Defender, yelling over the wind as it whipped by the roll bar. “My dear, I’m so sorry that my cousin is at my home, and I fear . . . just with the staff and the people, it’s not wise.”

  “It’s fine,” Annabelle said from four cars behind him. “Besides, I can’t leave my car at your house; someone might check the license plate, or drive by and talk. The Bay View sounds perfect.”

  “I’ve had this thing for you burning inside me since when, senior year, that football game?” Thaddeus said. In the rearview mirror, he checked out his dashing smile, his Kennedyesque, Chiclet-shaped teeth. Then he smoothed his short, very manicured brown hair down on the sides, that gel keeping it nicely in place, even in the car. He grabbed the Binaca out of the center console and slid it into his jeans’ pocket. Sometimes, he’d spray a little bit on his tongue during sex so she’d feel an extra tingle down there. In about twenty minutes, he’d have that hottie club tennis champ back there in the Maserati right where he wanted her: horizontal and all his.

  At the next stoplight, Thaddeus reached into the glove compartment for some Pinaud Clubman cologne his grandfather Bradford used to wear, all Bradley men in his lineage wore it (and so convenient the Millshore stocked it in the men’s lounges). Always smart to keep a bottle in the Defender for moments like this. “This is my plan, darling,” he explained to Annabelle. “First, I am going to massage you with a warming ginger, lavender oil blend.”