by Nancy Thayer
But Mimi had taken Susan’s other arm, and as the crowd dispersed, the women hurried across the street and away from her husband and sons.
“Let’s go to Town,” Darcy suggested. “We can sit out on the patio.”
She steered them a short distance from the theater, turning onto a narrow lane paved with Belgian blocks. “I know it’s tricky walking,” she told Mimi, “but we’re almost there.”
“I’m fine,” Mimi insisted. “Willow’s got me.”
They broke into pairs, Darcy and Susan on one side, Mimi and Willow facing them. They were seated at a table, and for a moment, as if they were obeying some natural law, all the women settled in place, gazed up at the night sky, and breathed deeply of the fresh salt air. Nantucket’s harbor was only two streets away.
Susan spoke first. “Thank you for inviting me. I’d forgotten how delightful Cinderella is.”
“That was a charming movie, and very pretty,” Mimi said. “But I have never been a fan of the basic story.”
Darcy sensed a discussion heading down the tracks toward them, so she sided with Susan, wanting to encourage her. “Why not, Mimi? It’s all so adorable—the mice, the fairy godmother, the rags-to-riches story.”
“Because,” Willow cut in, “it’s basically about a woman being rescued by a prince because of her beauty.”
“More than that,” Mimi added, “because of her size. The size of her feet, anyway.”
“I think it’s about magic,” Susan insisted. “We all need a little magic in our lives in order to go on. We all need to believe that what happened to Cinderella could happen to us—not that we’ll be rescued by a prince, but that we can change someday from undervalued housemaids to beautiful princesses—well, okay, not real princesses, there are no princesses in our country, but you know what I mean!”
A waitress arrived, and Mimi took charge. “Three glasses of champagne and an interesting sparkling water for our young friend.” She turned her attention back to Susan. “Did you not see—oh, drat, what was the name of that movie with Julia Roberts and Richard Gere?”
“Pretty Woman,” Willow said.
Susan was shocked. “You have seen Pretty Woman? How old are you?”
“I’m fourteen. So I’ve seen it on DVD. I’m young, but I’m not, like, clueless.”
If you only knew, Darcy thought, thinking of Willow with Logan Smith.
“Still,” Susan persisted, “that movie’s older than you are!”
“But the topic is ageless,” Mimi cut in. “The twist the movie gave it was what Julia Roberts says at the end, something like ‘He rescued me—’ ”
“And I rescued him right back!” Willow spoke the words with Mimi.
Mimi and Willow smiled at each other.
“Besides,” Willow continued, “the whole ugly stepfamily is so over. Half my friends are part of blended families, and it’s all good. And look at me, Boyz is my stepfather, but he’s totally cool.”
“Still,” Mimi continued, “the message of being chosen because of your beauty is another age-old message that I’m wishing we could make so over, too.”
“That’s never going to change,” Susan said, pausing as their drinks arrived. “It’s built into our DNA. It’s out of our control. Women will always go for the strong, handsome man, and men will always go for the most beautiful woman. It’s Darwinian law, nature’s way of making certain the strongest survive.”
“Intelligence is part of the mix now,” Mimi argued. “We aren’t cavemen anymore. We’ve learned to make fire; we’ve invented the wheel; and during the past three decades, we’ve started to value the intelligent person, not just the pretty one.”
Susan said. “But men still think with their…”
“Pricks.” Willow whispered the word.
“I’ve got three sons,” Susan wailed. “How can I raise them to be good men if I’m already defeated by nature?”
Darcy sipped her drink and relaxed, watching the other three women talk. Their table was illuminated by a candle, and small lights had been hung around the patio. The soft light blurred the edges, erased the wrinkles, provided an almost antique cast to their faces. Willow, her skin flawless, her auburn hair abundant, her eyes bright. Susan, with signs of weariness cast over her pretty face, her blond hair drooping as if it were also tired. Mimi, white-haired, plump, with sparkling eyes. They could represent the three ages of women, Darcy thought: youth, maturity, age. She wanted to snap a photo of them just like this, to remember in the future. It was an unlikely gathering, and special.
And what age would Darcy represent? she wondered. She was past youth, but she didn’t feel completely mature….
“You’re awfully quiet,” Mimi observed, turning her attention on Darcy.
“I’m still considering Willow’s words about blended families. That has been a significant change in people’s lives. So much divorce and remarriage—”
Mimi cut in. “Darling, perhaps you’re correct about divorce, but there have always been blended families. For hundreds of years, women died giving birth or of some ghastly disease. They might have had two or three children, and someone had to take care of them, so the husband married again, and had more children with his new wife. Or a man was killed in some hideous war. The woman married again, partly for economic reasons. She needed a man to support her financially while she pounded the chaff from the wheat so she could bake bread.”
“But with all our modern technology, things have changed, haven’t they?” Susan asked, her forehead furrowed as she tried to reach a point.
“Absolutely,” Willow stated. “Women don’t need men anymore. We can support ourselves financially.”
“Some of us can’t,” Susan argued, warming to her topic. “Some of us have three children who need supervision and healthy food and love, and furthermore some of us—not you, obviously, Darcy, since you have a position as a librarian, and probably not you, Willow, because you are young and smart and free—but some of us can’t work.”
“Everyone can work,” Mimi said.
“I can’t!” Susan cried. “I can’t think of one single thing I could do to make money.”
The table fell quiet. They all realized Susan had brought them crashing in from the philosophical into the murky reality of daily life. Her daily life.
“What kind of work would you do if you could?” Willow asked.
Susan blinked, dumbfounded. She lifted her glass to her mouth and drank deeply, giving herself time to think.
Willow chattered away. “I mean, I’ve always wanted to be an astronaut, but I know that’s not possible. I’m claustrophobic and not good with numbers. I babysit a lot now, and I’m a good babysitter, and it’s about the only way someone my age can make money. Unless I were a tech geek and invented something in my garage. I know when I grow up my stepfather will want me to sell real estate, that’s his business, and he makes tons of money, but I want to major in environmental biology. Maybe I’ll focus on clean water. I know that involves math, but we’ve got such cool technology to help us now, I won’t have to do fancy math.”
Susan set her empty glass on the table with a definitive thump. “I would like to work in a yarn shop,” she announced defiantly.
Darcy waved the waitress over. “Another round of drinks, please.”
“Really? Why?” Mimi asked.
Susan ran her hands through her blond hair, changing the carefully tidy locks into a wild tangle. “I enjoy knitting. I always have. I made the sweetest sweaters for my boys when they were babies. You should see the yarns they have now, I mean you should feel them. They’re not all itchy like yarns used to be. They’re silky. And so many colors!”
“But why not have your own yarn shop?” Willow asked. “Why work for someone else?”
“I don’t want the responsibility. I am so tired of being responsible, for my children, for my husband’s meals, for balancing a household budget. It’s exhausting! I want to work for someone who has to keep the records and place the
orders. I’ll unpack the yarns and work behind the counter, selling and helping women choose the right color and weight. If the shop isn’t busy, I’ll work on knitting something intricate and unusual that will inspire other knitters.” As she spoke, Susan’s face flushed, and her entire personality seemed to transform from shy and quiet to bold and beautiful.
Mimi laughed and patted Susan’s hand. “It seems you’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“Oh, well, I suppose, when I try to fall asleep at night…” Susan deflated a little.
“Three young boys are a lot to deal with,” Darcy remarked. “I don’t know if I could do it without going crazy.”
“If your husband helped, you could,” Mimi said, facing Darcy but floating the suggestion to Susan.
Susan shrugged and continued to shrink back into her old self. “Otto is far too busy to help with childcare. What he does is important. I’m fortunate that he agreed to come to the island with us. He couldn’t do it, if it weren’t for technology, the computer, the Internet.” Blushing, she added in a whisper, “Plus, he makes an enormous salary. That’s why we were able to come here.”
“Well, then, you needn’t worry about money,” Mimi concluded. “You could work part-time, for the pleasure of it—”
“And I could babysit!” Willow chimed in. Quickly she turned to the others. “I would still help with story hours, too. And read to you in the afternoons, Mimi.”
“Have you seen Flock yet?” Mimi asked. “The yarn store on Orange Street? You could walk there in five minutes.”
“It’s so late in the season,” Susan countered. “I’m sure they have all the help they need.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Darcy said. “Lots of people will leave the island in August—kids going back to college and so on.”
“You could at least stop in,” Mimi said.
Susan’s face glowed and she broke into the prettiest Mona Lisa smile.
“OMG,” Willow whispered, leaning in. “That guy over there is totally checking you out!”
“Who?” Susan asked.
“Well, not me,” Mimi joked. “And Darcy’s back is to him.”
“He’s cute,” Willow said. “Take a look.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Susan shook her head and laughed. Then she looked. Then her neck and face flooded with a highly becoming blush. Then she jerkily moved her head and sat as if paralyzed.
Darcy glanced quickly over her shoulder. “He is cute.”
“Please,” Susan said, her lips scarcely moving, “stop it. I’m married.”
“But not dead,” Mimi told her. “For heaven’s sake, Susan, a little flirting is not going to turn you into a scarlet woman.”
“If Otto knew…” Susan paused, worried.
“Personally,” Darcy said, “I think it would do your husband a lot of good to remember how attractive you are.” She knew she could say more. She could tell Susan that she’d seen Otto “visit” Autumn at night and also the weekend that Susan and the boys were in Boston. But after all, maybe the visits were innocent. And this moment, while Susan was all flustered and blushing and happy, was not the time to bring Susan’s high spirits crashing to the ground. Plus, Willow was there. She didn’t need to hear Darcy’s suspicions.
The waitress arrived with a fresh round of drinks. “These are from the gentleman at the far table. The man in the red rugby shirt.”
“Thank you,” Darcy said. “And give him our thanks.” She turned to Susan, who was staring at her drink as if it materialized right out of the air. “Susan,” she hissed, “you need to lift your glass, smile at Red Rugby Shirt, and mouth the words thank you.”
Susan put a trembling hand on her glass and paused.
“Goodness, child,” Mimi scolded, “haven’t you ever flirted before in your life?”
Susan shot back, “Of course I have. But long ago, before I had three children.”
“It’s just like riding a bike,” Darcy cooed encouragingly.
Susan lifted her glass, smiled at Red Rugby Shirt, and said softly, “Thank you.”
Darcy had to force herself not to turn around and gawk, but she noticed that Susan’s smile brightened even more as her eyes kept contact with the man’s.
Finally, she looked away. “Now what do I do?”
“Drink your drink,” Mimi said sensibly.
Willow slipped her phone from her small shoulder bag and surreptitiously snapped a shot of Susan. “Should I get one of Red Rugby Shirt?” she asked.
“No!” Susan said. “That would be embarrassing. As if you were photographing some rare animal.” She hesitated. “Okay, this is enough about me. Darcy, what about you? How’s your love life?” She sat back in her chair, very pleased with herself for wrenching the spotlight onto Darcy.
“The truth? I don’t know….” Could she talk honestly about her relationship with Nash in front of Willow?
“Well, I do!” Mimi spoke up. “She’s got a hunk visiting her several nights a week. His truck is in her driveway until past midnight. Not that I spy on my neighbors,” she added with a mischievous grin.
“I’ve seen the truck, too,” Susan added.
“Okay, fine, I’m seeing a really good guy. Nash Forester. He’s a carpenter.”
“That explains the muscles,” Mimi murmured.
“The problem is—I don’t know if we’re going anywhere. I mean, I only started dating him in the spring, but he doesn’t seem to want to do anything but eat, watch the Red Sox, and, um, go to bed.”
“And your problem is?” Mimi teased. She continued in a milder tone. “So you know you’re both in lust, but you’re not sure if you’re both in love, is that it?”
“Precisely,” Darcy answered. “I’ve been ‘in love’ before, married before, and divorced.” She cast a quick glance at Willow before adding, “I don’t want to rush into anything. I don’t even know if I want to get married again.”
“But you want him to be in love with you,” Mimi said.
“Yeah,” Willow echoed. “You want him to at least ask the question.”
Susan frowned. “Willow, this conversation must gross you out a little.”
Willow shrugged. “Wait, what? I know I’m naïve, but I grew up watching my parents divorce, and Mom dating a bunch of different guys, and finding Boyz, and marrying him. Not to mention that just about every friend I’ve had has stepparents.”
“Your mother’s very beautiful,” Darcy remarked.
“Yeah, and she knows it,” Willow shot back. “So she got to have a lot of fun, and she tries to make me live like a Victorian virgin.”
“There are worse ways to live,” Susan said. She lounged back into her chair and yawned widely. “I don’t usually have alcohol so late in the evening. I think it’s suddenly hitting me.”
“We should go,” Darcy said. “I’ve got work tomorrow.”
“But let’s do this again,” Mimi proposed. “It’s fun to share experiences across generations.”
Darcy shot an uneasy glance at Willow.
“Hey,” Willow told her, “I’m not going to repeat anything to anybody. That would be too weird.”
“My mother and I certainly never talked about anything approaching lust,” Mimi mused. Smiling wickedly, she added, “Fortunately, I was a curious girl, and enjoyed many opportunities to further my education.”
“Do tell!” Darcy pleaded.
“Next time,” Mimi promised.
14
Sunday was gloriously hot, without even a lazy breeze to stir the leaves.
Nash picked Darcy up in his red truck and they drove out to Fat Ladies Beach to meet their friends. Umbrellas in a multitude of colors had been planted in the sand like a garden of enormous flowers. Everyone was either swimming or slathering themselves and their kids with sunblock.
“Ouch!” Darcy complained. “Hot sand!” She was barefoot, in a new peach-colored bikini, with a frothy cover-up that was as thin as a petal but still one more annoying layer in this heat
. Tearing it off over her head, she tossed it down on her beach towel and raced for the water.
Waves dawdled toward the shore, where the water was low enough and warm enough for kiddies to play. Darcy swam out into the blissful cold. She enjoyed treading water, letting her toes drop down and down, each foot of water colder than the one on top.
On the shore, Nash set up camp, stabbing the umbrella’s pole deep into the sand, spreading his towel next to hers, setting their coolers on the corners of the towels in case a breeze kicked up.
She lay on her back and floated, kicking idly, eyes closed, hoping the sunblock she’d applied would keep her nose from burning. The ocean was rocking her so gently, it was like a cradle. Flipping over, she swam farther out. She floated again. Random thoughts drifted through her mind…that memorable evening with Mimi, Willow, and Susan, laughter and wisdom, too…the volunteer at the children’s library who acted like a psychotic personal shopper for children, following them around, pulling books off the shelf and shoving them into the child’s hand, saying, “Try this one! This one is crazy good!” She meant well, but several parents had complained. But she was a generous donor to the library…it wasn’t Darcy’s problem to solve. It belonged to the head of the children’s library, Beverly Maison. Was she feeding Muffler too much? He was looking fat these days. Maybe—
“Hey.” Nash’s head emerged from the water. His hair was slicked against his head.
“Hey, yourself.” Darcy let her legs fall as she faced Nash.
“Do you have any idea how far out you are?” Nash asked. He seemed angry.
“Actually, lifeguard guy, I don’t,” Darcy answered facetiously, trying to twine her legs with his.
“Stop.” Nash wasn’t smiling. “Come closer to shore.”
Dread flashed through Darcy.
He read her mind. “No, no shark fins in sight, but you’re still too far out.”
She smiled as she swam back to shore, pleased that Nash cared enough to worry about her, to swim out to her, to frown like that.
“Gosh, my legs are wobbly,” she told Nash. “You’re right, I was too far out.”