Nancy Thayer

  Thirteen

  Helen was dizzy from lack of sleep. It wasn’t the fault of the sleeping porch. The cool night air acted like a soporific, but her mind bubbled with anxieties and anger. She wasn’t worried about Nona; Dr. Parsons had assured them she just needed rest. Helen thought she could use some rest, too—from her thoughts—but instead she had tossed and turned, as she imagined Worth with Sweet Cakes, replayed the insults Grace had flung at her at the party, and then, worst of all, envisioned the possible problems that odd little unhealthy-looking Suzette might be causing her baby.

  At some point, though, sleep had overtaken her. She woke sprawled on the daybed, drooling into her pillow, the full light of sun falling onto her left arm. It was a bright day; it would be a hot day. She showered and slipped into a fresh sundress and sandals and went swiftly down the stairs. She needed coffee.

  It was almost ten o’clock. The kitchen, she was glad to see, was empty. The coffeepot was still full. She poured a cup and drank gratefully. As she gazed out the window toward the drive, a taxi crept up the white gravel, parked near the other cars, and honked.

  Oliver and Owen came thumping down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  “Mom! Great! We didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

  “I just woke up,” Helen confessed.

  “Lazy thing.” Oliver grabbed up an apple from the bowl. “While you snored, we dressed and packed and checked out of the inn and came out here to see everyone before we took off.” He held another apple up to Owen and tossed it to him when he nodded.

  “And did you? See everyone?” Helen asked.

  “I saw Nona. She’s as feisty as ever. And I spoke with Dad, briefly. He’s getting ready to go back to the city, too. I haven’t seen Charlotte. Tell her goodbye for me, will you? Oh, and I saw Aunt Grace, who seems especially Wicked Witch of the West today.” Oliver hugged his mother, and Owen came around the kitchen table and hugged her, too. “We left our luggage out on the drive. Hey, is that our cab?”

  Owen said, “I’ll go out and tell him we’re ready.”

  Oliver did a quick scan to be sure no one else was around. “Look, Mom. About Teddy. E-mail me, okay? Or call me. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “Did you talk to him at all?”

  “I tried. I got a lot of sarcasm and evasion. Sorry, I’m not trying to be harsh. I know it must have been tough on him, walking into all this.”

  “Well.” Helen shook her head. “Perhaps it was tough on him. Or perhaps he enjoyed it.”

  “Anyway. Let me know.”

  “I will. And Oliver, let me know about your wedding. What can I do to help you get ready?”

  Oliver’s smile was like the sun coming from behind clouds. Sometimes Helen couldn’t believe this amazingly handsome young man was her son.

  “We’re not inviting many people, really, so it won’t be a fuss, but we would like a bit of a party. The minister is a friend of ours, he’s flying in from California—” Seeing his mother’s face change, he quickly added, “No one is planning to stay here. Owen and I have rented a house out near Surfside for the month of July, and all our friends are going to stay there. We’re hoping the weather will cooperate and we can have a beach wedding with a casual reception here at the house—just champagne and nuts, Mom, nothing elaborate.”

  “But you must have a wedding cake!” Helen said.

  “Okay. Well, could you do that? Could you order a cake?”

  “I could make one. What kind? Chocolate? Maybe a yellow cake with strawberries?”

  “Anything at all. We’re easy.” Oliver hesitated. “We’re planning to have a real party back at the rental house in the evening. With a DJ and lots of dancing and serious booze. So you all can come or not.”

  Helen quirked an eyebrow. “Are you going to be indulging in outrageously gay activities that would traumatize your old parents?” she teased.

  Oliver grinned. “Not until after midnight.” And he went out the door.

  Helen watched through the window as Oliver and Owen settled into the taxi and were driven away. Her heart was lightened now. She took a banana from the fruit bowl and was peeling it when Grace came into the room, dressed for the day in khaki shorts and a polo shirt.

  Seeing Helen, Grace stopped short. Her face fell. Grace looked miserable and hungover and old and sad. “Is there any coffee left?”

  Helen took a cup from the cupboard, poured coffee into it, and handed it to Grace. She didn’t speak.

  Grace hunted around for the milk pitcher, found it, added a dollop of milk, and stirred in several teaspoons of sugar. “I feel hideous. I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  Helen turned her back to Grace and stared out the window.

  “Look, Helen.” When Helen didn’t respond, Grace said angrily, “I apologize for what I said last night.”

  Helen shrugged. “It’s fine, Grace.”

  Worth came into the kitchen, smelling of shaving cream and soap. He wore his suit trousers and a crisp striped shirt. “Has Kellogg come down?”

  “Not yet,” Helen told him.

  “Grace, do you want to drive me to the airport?”

  “I’m driving Kellogg, Douglas, and Claus. They’ve got an eleven o’clock flight. Can you wait?”

  Worth looked impatiently at his watch. “All right. I can make some phone calls.” He turned to go, then looked at Helen. “Are you flying back with me?”

  “No. I … I’ve got some work to do here for the book sale.” It was easy to talk to her husband with someone else in the room. Even Grace’s critical presence steadied her.

  “So you’ll be home later today?”

  Helen almost said, What’s it to you? But now was not the time. “I think so. I’ll let you know.”

  Worth nodded and left the room.

  Grace said, “Well, I’ve got more than enough to do today. Glorious is with Nona. After I take the Bank Boys to the airport, I’ve got to hit the grocery store. And the house.” She sighed.

  Helen frowned. She and Grace had managed to divide the housework and cooking for thirty years. She couldn’t imagine why Grace was making such heavy going of it now. “I’ll do the house.” She put her coffee cup in the sink. “I’ll start in the living room.” She left the kitchen.

  The long front living room was littered with champagne flutes and teacups and bowls half filled with peanuts and crackers. Helen carried them into the kitchen, washed the flutes, emptied the snacks into plastic bags, set the teacups in the dishwasher. She dug the dust cloths out of the laundry room and went around the living room, dusting end tables, straightening chairs, plumping up sofa cushions. She shook out the draperies and opened the French doors and took the vacuum from under the stairs and dragged it over the various ancient thick Persian rugs. It was all very satisfying, putting things into place, so when she found the kitchen empty for a change, she quickly swept and mopped the flagstone floor.

  At some point, Grace came down, trailed by Worth, Kellogg, Douglas, and Claus, all businesslike in their suits and ties and briefcases. Helen said goodbye to them all and stood beneath the arbor, waving at them as they left in one of the SUVs. She returned to the kitchen to boil some eggs for egg salad and was chopping celery when Glorious came down.

  “Mrs. Nona’s sleeping,” Glorious said. She carried a basket piled with diapers and tiny little bits of clothing. “Oh, good, you’ve started lunch. And Grace said she’d go by the grocery store.”

  “Where are the little ones?” Helen called to Glorious as the other woman went into the laundry room.

  “They went out early, down to the beach—Mandy, Mellie, and the two children. Their father carried down the beach umbrellas. He took some beach chairs down, too.”

  “Have you heard any rustlings from Teddy?” Helen called.

  “Not a sound.”

  Glorious came into the kitchen with a basket of clean laundry in her arms. She stood at the end of the table, folding baby blankets and little boy’s
T-shirts. “Do we know how many will be here for dinner tonight?”

  Helen set the eggs under cold running water and began to chop an onion. “Well, you and Nona, although she doesn’t eat much, and Grace, Mandy, Mellie, and the two children. And Charlotte, of course. And maybe Teddy or Suzette, but I don’t know their plans.”

  “You staying?”

  “I’m not sure if I’ll be here tonight or not. I had planned to fly back after I spent some time with Teddy and Suzette, but I thought they’d be up by now.”

  Glorious stacked the folded laundry in the basket. “I think I’ll just thaw a pan of lasagna. That will work for a few more or less.”

  “Good idea. I’ll make those oatmeal raisin cookies Mandy approves of for Christian.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Oh, Glorious, I can—”

  Glorious shook her glossy head. “No, no. You go on and take a rest. I heard you down here with the vacuum. I’ve just been sitting there listening to Nona snore. I need to move. And I love eating the raw dough,” she added, smirking.

  Helen hated to admit it, even to herself, especially to herself, but it had been a great relief when Glorious came to work for Nona. Glorious was cheerful, easygoing, and self-starting. Most of all, she was young. Years ago, Helen had been able to help Grace run the house and still find time and energy to enjoy herself, go for a little sail, lie in the sun with a beach read, play a game or two of tennis. But for the past few years, Helen found she needed a nap simply to refuel for the rest of the day. Grace did, too. They had always had a cleaning company come through the house once a week, and there had been a space of years when all their children were college age and off traveling through Europe or visiting friends. Then, entire weeks would pass by with only five or six people in the house needing meals prepared and laundry done and sunblock bought and messages taken. Those had been restful times, although not as much fun. When the summer house filled up again, with weddings and wedding parties and baby showers and babies, Helen and Grace had discovered they were older. They didn’t have as much stamina.

  Today, Helen felt especially ancient. She stirred mayonnaise and a sprinkling of curry powder into the egg salad, covered it with plastic wrap, and set it in the refrigerator.

  “I think I will take a nap. I didn’t sleep well last night. But listen, Glorious, will you tell Teddy to wake me when he gets up?”

  “Surely will.”

  Up on the sleeping porch, the air was warm and still. Helen lay down on the daybed and was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

  When she woke, it was after one. The sun fell in long rectangles across the wooden floor, and the air seemed to hum with light. She yawned. From the other end of the house, she heard a baby’s thin cry. Little Zoe must be awake from her nap as well. She heard a child’s high sweet voice raised in song and the plinking tones of a xylophone: Christian entertaining himself. The xylophone had been one of the Ms’ first toys, and Helen’s three children had played with it, too. Helen remembered sitting on a bedroom floor with Grace as their toddlers played together. Way back then, they’d worried that the little ones were too aggressive and would never learn to share. Grace had worried that Mee would never learn to talk. Helen had worried that Teddy would spend his life in casts—he was such a daredevil and so accident prone. And here they all were now, their children safely grown. Grace had grandchildren. And Helen might have a grandchild on the way.

  She sat up, ran her hands through her tangled hair, and stretched, then went to the window facing out over Nona’s hedged garden. Far in the distance on the rolling land was Charlotte’s garden. Helen couldn’t see her, but she knew her daughter was out there working.

  She wasn’t sure what she thought about Charlotte’s funny little plan to live her life as a farmer here on Nantucket Island. Grace had been right. Helen’s children were different. Charlotte digging in the dirt, Oliver gay and intelligent but completely without interest in the Wheelwright bank, and Teddy … well, Teddy. Wasn’t he awake yet?

  She went down the hall to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and made an attempt to comb her hair. She wouldn’t try to get back to Boston today. Why should she? Let Sweet Cakes fix dinner for Worth. Although Worth probably treated his paramour to dinners at expensive restaurants. Oh, God, what should she do?

  Helen found Teddy and Suzette in the kitchen, sitting at one end of the table, dunking cookies into cups of milk. Glorious was standing over the sink, scrubbing the cookie sheet. Both Teddy and Suzette wore the clothes they’d worn the day before. Actually, they looked like they’d slept in them. A twist of maternal irritation tightened beneath Helen’s rib cage.

  Still, she tried to be upbeat. “Good morning, lazybones!” She pecked a kiss on top of Teddy’s head and put a hand, gently, just for a moment, on Suzette’s shoulder.

  Suzette didn’t respond, and Teddy just mumbled something around a mouthful of soggy food. Please, could they be more childish!

  “I hope you ate some real food before you started filling up on cookies,” Helen said. She went to the sink and filled a glass of water.

  Another mumble from Teddy.

  Glorious was drying off the cookie sheet. “Honey, those cookies are oatmeal and raisins. Let’s pretend it’s breakfast.”

  But Helen couldn’t let it go. “A growing baby needs protein.”

  “Milk’s protein,” Teddy said.

  “At last! He speaks!” Helen sat down across from her son.

  “I’ll be taking a little rest now,” Glorious said, and left the room.

  It was very quiet in the kitchen. The faucet dripped into the sink: plink, plink.

  “Your father’s gone back to Boston,” Helen said. “So have your Uncle Kellogg and Claus and Douglas. And I think Mee might have gone back while I was resting.”

  “So it looks like I’m the man of the house.” Teddy wiped cookie milk off his upper lip.

  “Well, yes, you and Christian.”

  Teddy laughed. “Well played, Mom.”

  Helen crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward. “Teddy, let’s talk a bit, okay?”

  Teddy pretended innocent confusion. “I thought we were. Talking.”

  “What are your plans?”

  “Plans? Who says we need plans?” His tone was arch and teasing.

  “I do!” Record time, one part of Helen’s mind noted, between Teddy’s first word and her first blastoff. “Teddy, your wife is going to have a baby. Has she had prenatal checkups? Ultrasound? Is she taking vitamins? Where will she have the baby, in a hospital or by the side of the road? Does she have a personal physician? And what about you? How are you going to support a child? Babies take a lot of care and a lot of paraphernalia!” Teddy opened his mouth to speak but Helen held out her hand, forestalling him. “And please don’t give me your holier-than-thou speech about the evils of materialism. Your baby can’t ride in a car in this state unless it’s in a car seat. It’s Massachusetts law. Your baby will need diapers and clothing and a bouncy seat and medical care. Babies need to have drops put in their eyes when they’re born, did you know that? And you and Suzette could both use at least one change of clothing, judging by what you wore yesterday and what you’re wearing today. And—”

  Teddy held his hands up in surrender. “All right, Mom, I get it. Listen, I thought Suzette and I would stay here for the summer.”

  Helen was speechless.

  “What’s the big deal? I’ve always stayed here in the summer. Nona has plenty of room.”

  Helen nodded. She took a sip of water, just to give herself a few seconds to recover. “That’s fine,” she told him. “That’s good, really. It’s just that we hadn’t seen you for a year, or heard much from you, so this is a surprise. So … Suzette, when is your baby due?”

  “September,” Suzette mumbled.

  “So you’ll have the baby here. On the island.”

  “Is that a problem for you?” Teddy’s voice took on a defensive tone.

&n
bsp; “Not at all,” Helen hastened to assure him. She turned toward Suzette. “We’ve got a great hospital here. A good obstetrician and several good midwives, if that’s the way you want to go. And I’m sure the attic is crammed with baby stuff. We might even have a few maternity dresses somewhere. Oh, this is exciting! I’ll have to make a list.” Caught up in a more optimistic mood, Helen turned back to Teddy. “And you. You need to get a job.”

  Teddy moaned. “Oh, brother, here it comes.”

  “Teddy. You’re twenty-two. You’re about to become a father. Unless you have some money stashed away which I know nothing about, you’re going to have to buckle down and grow up and get a job like everyone else.”

  Teddy squirmed. “I won’t work in the bank.”

  Helen snorted, exasperated. “Did I mention the bank?” She looked at Suzette. “I don’t know how much your husband has told you about his remorselessly evil family, but most of the men related to Teddy work in a Boston bank that Teddy’s great-great-grandfather started in the eighteen hundreds. Worth and I had hoped Teddy might work there. Frankly, Worth would love it if one of his children carried on his work, and if you went to Boston you could stay in our house and save money. In case you want to buy—oh, say a car. Or a house, with a yard, for your baby.”

  “It’s not going to work, Mom,” Teddy said, his face dark.

  “What’s not going to work?”

  “You’re not going to convince Suzette that I should work in the bank.”

  “Fine. You still need to get a job.”

  “Or what? Or we can’t stay here this summer?” Teddy stood up so abruptly his chair rocked. “Do you need me to contribute funds because otherwise there won’t be enough money to feed us all? Look at this place! There’s probably enough food stashed in the pantry to keep us all from starvation for months!”

  “Teddy, it’s not about that. It’s about your self-esteem—”

  “Which is fine!” Teddy paced the length of the kitchen, looking terribly young in his stupid yellow martini-glass shirt. Everyone had always said that Teddy combined his parents’ physical attributes. His dark-blond hair curled tightly like Helen’s, and when he ran his hand through it in exasperation, it recoiled right back into place.