by Nancy Thayer
“He wasn’t in a band when he lived with you?”
“No. He’d gotten bored with that. Bored with school, bored with our quaint little town in the Berkshires. That’s why he came to live with me in Boston. I don’t know when he started using. I met some of the girls he brought home and they didn’t look druggie. They were nice girls….” Nash took a deep breath. “God, Darcy, I’m sorry. I wanted to talk about your concert. I didn’t intend to drag you down like this.”
“You didn’t drag me down, Nash. I like hearing about your brother. I like knowing about your life.”
“Well, okay, but it’s private stuff. I don’t know what got me going on Edsel.”
“I won’t mention him to anyone, Nash. Hey, I wanted to ask you, did you notice any one in the chorus who seemed um, a bit off tune?”
“Not off tune, but that woman, what’s her name, Ursula Parsons? She always sang the words about a millisecond before the rest of the chorus, like it was a contest and she was freakin’ determined to win.”
Darcy laughed. “Oh, fabulous, Nash, you’ve pegged it exactly.”
They talked more about the chorus, spinning off in tangents to trade gossip about some of the women or their families. They talked for over an hour. Darcy slid down on the sofa. Muffler jumped up beside her hip and fell asleep. Darcy came down from her concert high and began to feel sleepy. She had to work to keep her eyes open. But she didn’t want this conversation to end. When they finally said goodbye, she found herself smiling, even as she brushed her teeth, even as she curled up in bed.
—
The next day, in the professional space of her office, Darcy forced herself to do something she’d known she had to do. She had asked Willow for Autumn’s phone number, because maybe it was all too unconventional, Darcy spending time with her ex-husband’s stepdaughter. Willow was a child. Autumn was her mother. Darcy should make arrangements with Autumn, or at least bring her into the mix.
She called Autumn.
“Yes?” Autumn’s voice was sweet and clear.
Darcy plunged right in. “Autumn, this is Darcy Cotterill. I’m calling about Willow, and I apologize for not calling you sooner, but you know we’ve asked her to help with story time at the library. I hope that’s okay with you. I know I should have checked with you first—”
Autumn interrupted with a silvery peal of laughter. “About helping with story time in the library? Are you kidding me? Honestly, Darcy, I should pay you. I’m delighted you’re keeping Willow busy.”
“She should be with kids her own age—”
“Forget that. The girl’s too shy, plus look at the loser she met on the island. Already, bad instincts in the male department. Frankly, Darcy, Willow’s had a tough time lately. She’s trying to pull away from me and I totally get that. She’s good at home, but here she can’t seem to get a grip. You’re just the role model she needs, and what could be better than keeping her occupied at a library?” Another burst of laughter came over the phone.
Fine, Darcy thought, let Autumn think librarians were chaste and boring. “Also, I don’t know if Willow mentioned that our neighbor Mimi Rush has asked Willow to read to her in the evenings, and—”
“I know. Willow told me. I mean, what more could I ask? The library and an old lady?”
“Well, we might do something some evening. Go out for dinner or for a drive or something. I want you to know you’re welcome to join us—”
“Oh, you’re so sweet—you don’t want me to feel left out. Listen, I think it’s good for Willow to have her own group, even if it is old people. I don’t think she’d enjoy having me butt in. Honestly, I think it’s great how you’re being nice to Willow.”
“Okay, that’s good.”
“Great. Listen, I’ve got to go now. Thanks for calling.”
The weird thing, Darcy thought as she said goodbye and ended the call, was how much Autumn reminded Darcy of her mother. That same good-natured carelessness. The same rushing speed through life, or at least through their phone call, because Autumn didn’t have much time for discussions about her daughter.
The main thing was that Darcy had made contact with Autumn. She had, in an informal kind of way, gotten permission from Willow’s mother to have Willow be at the library for part of the day. Autumn had made it crystal clear that she wanted nothing to do with Darcy and Mimi. A snarky thought snaked through her mind. She could have said, “I know you enjoy spending time with some of your neighbors, like Otto Brueckner.” But she hadn’t said that, and she was glad. It would have made Autumn think Darcy was even more boring than she already did.
13
And then the heat hit. Humidity rose, and the outdoors became a sauna. The library was air-conditioned, but Darcy’s house wasn’t. The summers she’d spent with Penny when she was younger had never been so hot they’d needed air-conditioning. Just a fan in the kitchen when they were cooking or baking. Darcy could close her eyes and remember the low, soothing hum of the fan as it oscillated left and right in unchanging rhythm.
Out in her garden in the evening, beneath the shade of the neighbor’s old maple, it was tolerable, and by night it was even pleasant. But as much as she enjoyed her garden, she had to eat, dress, and sleep inside her house, so she broke down and bought two window air conditioners and phoned Nash to ask him to install them.
“I’ll bribe you with drinks and dinner,” she added.
“Hm. That might not be quite enough,” he teased.
She played dumb. “Ah. Let me see. What else can I offer?”
“I’ll show you when I get there,” he said.
“I’ll be ready.”
She was smiling when they ended their conversation. His easy bantering woke her brain. It absolutely woke her body.
Nash arrived straight from work. It was almost eight o’clock, and he was in his work clothes—jeans, T-shirt, work boots. His sandy hair had sawdust in it. His white T-shirt was dirty and stained in places, but the thin material showed off his muscular torso quite nicely.
“Well, hello, sailor,” Darcy said as he came in the door. She threw her arms around his neck and raised her mouth to kiss him, but to her surprise, he drew back.
“Let me get a shower first, Darcy. I’m all sweaty.”
“Just the way I like you,” she purred, pressing against him. What was it about his odor that was so sexy? It drew her to him like a moth to a flame.
He put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “First, air conditioners, next shower. Then we’ll see what happens.”
But installing the air conditioners nearly put her over the top. She held the door open while he carried the air conditioners in from the car, moving effortlessly. She followed him up the stairs to her room, unable to ignore the way his muscles bulged in his shoulders and arms, and the long lean line of his back.
He set the air conditioner on the floor. “Which window?”
She’d already studied the situation and decided. The room had two windows facing the street and one facing the narrow lane between her house and the Brueckner’s.
“There,” she said, pointing to a front window. “Can I help?”
“No need.” He raised the window and the screen, lifted the air conditioner into place, lowered the window, and screwed the plastic accordion flaps to the window frame.
“For a lawyer, you really know how to screw,” she joked.
To her surprise, Nash’s face shut down.
“We’re not going there,” he said.
“What?” For a moment, she couldn’t imagine what he meant.
“I’m not a lawyer anymore.”
“But you could be if you wanted to?” she queried.
“I don’t want to. And I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?”
She was stung. A kind of shame flooded her, as if she’d been attempting an intimacy that didn’t exist. She consoled herself, remembering how Jordan said she could never ask Lyle anything important until he’d had a drink and
eaten dinner.
“Okay. Let’s get the other one in,” he said. He walked past her and headed down the stairs.
“Right. The other one goes in the living room window. I spend most of my time there. In the summer, I eat salads or takeout.” Darcy knew she was babbling, but she wanted to get away from that uncomfortable moment between them.
Nash worked quickly. When the air conditioner was in place, he turned it on. It hummed and gurgled and warm air swept into the room and finally the cool air arrived.
“You’re a lifesaver!” Darcy told Nash. “Want a beer?”
“What I’d really like is a shower.”
“Disappointing as that is, go ahead, help yourself. I’ll get dinner ready.” She sighed with relief. The awkwardness between them had disappeared.
Nash headed back up the stairs. Darcy went into the kitchen and found Muffler sitting by his food bowl, glaring at her indignantly.
“Oh, sorry. Didn’t I feed you yet?” Darcy filled his bowl with the gourmet moist food the cat liked, then set about getting the human dinner ready. She’d made a pan of mac and cheese with lobster the night before, and she heated it in the microwave while she sliced beefsteak tomatoes and sprinkled them with oregano. When she heard Nash coming down the stairs, she opened a beer and carried it to him, and burst out laughing. He was wearing her turquoise kimono, and it barely met at the front even with the cloth tie.
“Couldn’t tolerate getting back into those clothes,” Nash explained.
Darcy laughed. “It’s a good look for you. Plus I can hardly wait to see what happens when you sit down.”
They went into the living room, which was nicely cool and dry. Nash sat, and the robe parted, exposing pretty much all of him.
“I can’t eat like this,” he grumbled.
“Let me get you one of my sheet towels,” Darcy said. “You can wrap it around your waist and keep your treasures secret.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
As she went into the laundry room and fished a clean towel from the drier, a thought occurred to her. Should Nash keep a set of fresh clothes here? He ate here several times a week, and the heat wave was not going to be over any time soon. But if she proposed it to him—did that seem like she was pushing for something more, something serious?
She brought him the towel and watched him wrap it around his torso.
“That’s better,” he said.
“Not for me,” she joked, but he’d already turned the television on and the Red Sox were playing Cleveland. “I’ll bring in dinner.”
“Need some help?”
“No, it’s easy.” She filled two plates, put them on a tray with utensils and napkins and carried it in.
“Thanks,” Nash said. “This looks great.” Before she could respond, he yelled, “Ramirez, get a grip!”
Darcy settled next to Nash on the sofa and focused on the game. She was an ardent Red Sox fan, and she adored the sportscaster Jerry Remy, who had the most contagious laugh. She sensed Nash relaxing as he ate and watched the game, and she decided that television had probably saved more than one relationship. It was like putting a child in time-out, or having a buffer guest at a dinner party. The tension eased. Nash had a second heaping helping of the mac and cheese. They watched the game to its end—the Red Sox won—and Darcy brought in bowls of ice cream for them both.
As the last of her ice cream melted in her mouth, Darcy wondered if Nash had gotten over his sulk.
“Do you want more ice cream?” she asked.
“No,” Nash said. He put his bowl on the table and turned to her. “Now I want this.”
He took her in his arms and kissed her. His towel fell off. She wriggled out of her clothes without ending the kiss. They slid down onto the couch together, and although the TV continued with the after-game show, they didn’t even notice.
—
Often a Nantucket summer was blessed—or cursed—by a week of rain, fog, and wind. Darcy felt oddly guilty when this happened, because it ruined so many holiday plans, especially for those who had rented a house on the island for only a week. It didn’t bother her—she liked the rain a lot, the fragrances it brought out from the garden, the soothing sound of it against her bedroom window, and the pleasure she took in offering story times to children who couldn’t go to the beach.
By Thursday, she realized that the Brueckner boys had been to story time every day that week. At first, they sat politely, but when they showed up on Thursday, they’d obviously exceeded their ability to be still and listen. While Darcy perched at the front of the room on a chair that allowed her to show the book’s pictures to all the children—and to see what all the children were doing—she noticed George pinching Alfred, and Alfred, the youngest and weakest, wriggling away from his brother, accidentally bumping into children next to him and causing them to snarl at the boy. Susan, settled on the floor at the back with the other mothers, was aware that her sons were misbehaving. She looked miserable. Outside, the rain sheeted down, pattering against the windows, turning the lawn into a soggy stretch of mud.
“Alfred,” Darcy said. “Would you do me a favor?” She saw the alarm in Susan’s eyes. “Would you come up here and turn the pages for me? It’s really hard for me to hold the book and turn the pages.”
Alfred’s eyes widened. Braced for a scolding, he had to take a moment to understand her invitation. Then he jumped to his feet and almost ran to join Darcy. She continued to read, pausing to whisper to Alfred, “Please turn now.” By the end of the book, Alfred was smug and his brothers approached him with something like admiration.
Afterward, the children and their mothers streamed out the door. Susan approached Darcy. “That was so nice. Thank you, Darcy. Alfred, you did such a good job!”
Susan looked terrible, Darcy thought. Her eyes were puffy and her posture spoke of a woman who was struggling simply to stand. As the room emptied out, the two older boys, Henry and George, started shoving each other and calling each other names.
“It’s this rain,” Susan said, seeming entirely defeated. “They aren’t constitutionally built to be quiet.”
“Take them to the beach anyway,” Darcy suggested. “It’s warm out, they’ll get wet swimming. Or take them to the Life Saving Museum.”
Susan nearly sank to her knees. “Oh, thank you. I was running out of ideas….”
“Look,” Darcy said, “The Dreamland’s rerunning Cinderella tonight. I’m going with a couple of friends. In fact, it’s Mimi, who lives to my right, and Willow, who lives behind me. It’s supposed to be a gorgeous movie, with Cate Blanchett as the wicked stepmother. Come with us.”
“Oh, thank you, but I couldn’t leave the boys.”
“Won’t your husband be there?”
“Yes, but—” Susan bit her lip. “He’s not very good at handling them all by himself.”
“Have him bring the boys to the movie.”
“But Cinderella is so girly—”
“It’s got mice and horses and magic,” Darcy reminded her.
“Well, I suppose I could bring them.”
“No. Have your husband bring them. You absolutely have to come with us. We’ll have a girls night out, maybe go for a drink afterward.”
Susan stared, dumbfounded, as if such an activity had never reached even the outer limits of her mind before.
“Mommmm,” the boys cried, shoving up against her. “We’re bored!”
Susan’s shoulders slumped. “All right, boys, let’s go. I want to show you the Life Saving museum.”
“They have videos of shipwrecks there,” Darcy told them.
“Shipwrecks! YAY!” The three boys danced around the room.
Darcy smiled at Susan. “You see, I have good suggestions, don’t I?”
Susan nodded. “All right, I’ll come with you.”
“I’ll knock on your door at six thirty.”
—
Cinderella delighted everyone. Well, probably not Otto, who stormed through the crowds leav
ing the theater, his three sons trailing behind him like the tail of a kite until he reached his wife.
Because he was in public and Willow stood on one side of his wife and Mimi and Darcy on the other, he attempted a smile as he bellowed, “Okay, you saw your movie with your friends. You must come put these children to bed.”
Before Susan could speak, Mimi said, “We’re taking Susan with us for a little drink.”
“We won’t be long. You can put them to bed yourself, can’t you?” Susan implored.
“I think your sons look more than ready for sleep,” Darcy added, nodding toward Alfred, who was yawning.
“Your boys are so nice,” Willow chirped. “If you’d like, I could babysit for them sometime, so maybe you and Mrs. Brueckner can go out together.”
Otto was clearly flummoxed by the persuasive wall of women facing him.
He wavered, obviously desperate to come up with an argument they couldn’t refute, and Darcy took advantage of his momentary silence.
“So, okay, great. Let’s go, ladies. Bye, guys!” Darcy took Susan’s arm and pulled her away from Otto.
“All right, boys,” Otto ordered. “Let’s walk back to the house. Your mother will be home later.”
“But, Dad,” Alfred protested, “I’m tired. Do I have to walk?”
“It’s only a matter of a few blocks. You’re not a baby.”
“But I’m tired,” Alfred whined.
“Stop sniveling. If you three can walk home without complaining, I’ll let you go to bed without brushing your teeth.” Otto raised his voice as he put forth this proposal, probably in the hope that such rebellion against good parenting would cause Susan to change her mind and rush back to deal with the boys.