Nancy Thayer

by Summer House (v5)

  But every moment, truly, Helen was waiting for Worth’s call. She knew him well enough to predict that he wouldn’t phone her right away. He needed time alone to think, to retreat like a wounded animal into his lair to lick his wounds. He had a lot to deal with, Helen had to admit that. Not only Nona’s enormous news but the complicated existence of Teddy’s child. And, of course, Helen’s ultimatum.

  She hoped he took her seriously. It had not been a ruse on her part, not a game. When she assured Worth she would leave him if he did not accept Suzette’s baby, she had been absolutely serious.

  She had already envisioned how it might play out. She had considered who she would choose for a divorce lawyer, where she would set up her own new single home—in Boston, on Commonwealth Avenue, near the Public Gardens—and how she would keep herself from grieving—by taking a job at one of the many art galleries in the Back Bay and by seeing her granddaughter as often as possible. She went as far as to decide that she would buy a house in a leafy suburb for Teddy, Suzette, and the baby. Teddy would find work in an antiques store, and Helen could babysit; the city would be better for Teddy in the winter than the island, which could be a trial, with its fog, cold, isolation, and lack of cultural activities.

  And she would travel! Instead of being tied for three months to the island, the family rituals, and tennis and sailing, which were all lovely, but still … she would be free to spend a few summer weeks in France, England, or Italy.

  And Joe Abernathy Well. Perhaps nothing would come of his attentions, but all she wanted really was a light flirtation, someone to play with. Even a few dates with him would serve to prevent her from being labeled “Poor Helen,” deserted by her husband for a younger woman—for she did not fool herself. If she and Worth divorced, Worth would not be alone for a minute.

  The thought made her heart ache. At night she wept into her pillow like an adolescent girl losing her first true love.

  On his sixth evening away from Nantucket, Worth phoned.

  “Can you talk?” he asked.

  “I can. Just a moment. Let me shut the door.” She was on the sleeping porch, getting ready for bed. It was after eleven.

  “I called earlier. You didn’t pick up.”

  She started to tell him that she’d been at a play But she didn’t want to give him even that much. “I’m here now.”

  A deep sigh. Then, “Helen. God, what a summer this is.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m having trouble dealing with it all. Teddy claiming a baby that isn’t his—”

  Helen interrupted. “Or perhaps is his.”

  “And Nona—this incredible story Nona told me. That she’s not my mother! My God, Helen, it’s as if I don’t belong to anyone.”

  She started to speak, then kept her silence. Perhaps he belonged to Cindy. He needed to figure it out himself.

  “Helen, I miss you. I miss the family, the island. I miss Nona.” His voice broke on his mother’s name.

  She couldn’t help it; her heart twisted with pity. “She is still your mother, Worth.”

  He cleared his throat. “Not really.”

  Helen thought carefully about her next words. “What if Charlotte’s infertile, Worth?”

  “What? What kind of question is that? Why would you even think such a thing?”

  “I’m thinking all sorts of things these days. My mind is ranging pretty free. I want to be open to all possibilities. And one possibility is that Charlotte might not be able to have children.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Worth, infertility is a serious problem these days. I’m not saying Charlotte is going to be infertile, I’m saying only that it’s a possibility. Or perhaps she’ll never marry. I mean, she’s thirty and not serious about a man, no potential fiancé in sight—”

  “She’s dating Bill Cooper.”

  Helen laughed dryly. “Get real. You know Coop’s reputation. He doesn’t get serious with anyone. And while we’re on the subject, I’m seeing Whit with Fiona O’Conner everywhere. So that little dream of ours about Whit and Charlotte is going to have to fade away, I’m afraid. To return to my point: what if, for any possible number of reasons, Charlotte doesn’t have a child? Oliver isn’t going to, we know that much. Will you wait until Teddy and Suzette have another baby, a pale little blond one, and call that child your heir and still ignore Dawn?” She allowed urgency to color her voice. “Worth, you are living in the past. It’s the future we need to think of. Can’t you separate yourself from this gigantic looming shadow called Family and think of yourself alone? I have, just recently, and I’ve got to tell you, it feels pretty wonderful.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Worth muttered.

  “Listen to me. Really listen. Stop thinking about the all-important Wheelwright legacy. Think about yourself. You are sixty years old. How much longer are you going to live? How much longer are you going to be able to have fun, to try new things, to travel, to pay attention to something new? The world is changing, Worth. Has changed. The bank is not just a neighborhood bank anymore, and your position there is not essential.”

  “Oh, come on!”

  “It’s not. You know it’s not. And whatever your father and grandfather did when they ran the bank, it’s not something you’re able to do now. I’m not even sure it’s something you want to do. Are you? Are you sure? Stop a minute, Worth. Think about what I’m saying. Do you want to spend the rest of your life putting on your suit and going in to work and dealing with numbers and getting home late?”

  “I’m not ready to retire and fill my days playing golf.”

  “No, I know that. But that’s not the only option.”

  “You’re getting off the subject.”

  “The subject is a pretty all-encompassing one.” She was quiet a moment. “You matter all by yourself, Worth. Your life is your own. Your happiness is your own to choose. The bank, the family…. They don’t have to be all that matters.”

  “They aren’t all that matters!” Worth protested. “But the bank—if I weren’t at the bank—” He sputtered, unable to finish his thought.

  “—the bank would continue without you,” Helen finished for him. “Kellogg is doing a good job. And Claus and Dougie.”

  After a long silence, Worth said, “I would feel as if Grace had won.”

  Helen was surprised that he would admit that much. “Yes, of course you would. But you would have won your freedom, Worth. You would have won your own life.”

  “Why haven’t you ever talked like this before?”

  “Perhaps because I’ve never thought like this before.” Helen was trembling slightly; she was a little bit frightened and a little bit exhilarated. To calm herself, she thought of the face of the new baby girl, fragile and beautiful and entirely vulnerable.

  “Somehow we’ve gotten off the subject,” Worth said. “Listen, I’m tired. The bank, and all this; I can’t talk anymore. I’ll call tomorrow.”

  Helen’s voice was cool. “Fine.”

  “Helen, I don’t want you to think I’m with Cindy. I’ve broken up with her. You need to remember that.”

  She thought of Cindy’s reaction when Worth told her it was over, how she must have pressed herself against Worth, weeping, passionately kissing his mouth. She put the phone down so that the sudden tears in her voice would not betray her.

  As he’d promised, Worth phoned the next night. “I want to talk about Teddy.”

  Helen was in her robe, curled up on the sleeping porch. A sweet breeze rippled through the screens, playing over her skin like running water. “Okay.”

  Worth said, “I worry about Teddy.”

  “I think we’ll always worry about Teddy. He has a drinking problem. From everything we’ve read and heard, that means he’ll always have a drinking problem. You and I can’t change that. We can’t fix that. Suzette seems to have a steadying influence on him.”

  Worth’s voice tightened. “I think Suzette saw him as a meal ticket and latched on to him.”


  Helen opened her mouth to disagree, then gave herself time to consider his words. “Maybe Teddy needs someone to latch on to him. Maybe Suzette and this baby will ground him.”

  Fiercely, Worth said, “Teddy got drunk twice this summer.”

  “And how many times did you sleep with Cindy this summer?” Helen shot back.

  “Damn it, Helen, the two events aren’t comparable!”

  “That’s true,” Helen replied softly. “Teddy didn’t break anyone’s heart when he got drunk.”

  After a moment, Worth said quietly, “It breaks my heart to see my son drunk.”

  “Because it hurts your sense of family pride? Because it embarrasses you in front of Grace and Kellogg? Because he’s showing weakness?”

  “Maybe. Maybe all those. But also because it makes me think that somewhere deep inside, Teddy’s hurt. And I don’t want my son to be so terribly hurt.”

  Tears stung Helen’s eyes. She pulled her robe around her, tucking it beneath her bare feet. “But, Worth,” she said, as a thought occurred to her, “the second time Teddy got drunk this summer was when he’d made a huge sale at the antiques shop and the buyers brought in some champagne to celebrate their acquisition. Perhaps Teddy is hurt inside, but hey, we’re all hurt somehow inside, right? Isn’t that just part of the human condition? Teddy’s alcoholism is also a result of his physical chemistry. He just can’t drink. Do you see what I’m saying? It’s a problem, but it’s not a tragedy.”

  Worth was quiet for a few moments. Then he asked, keeping his voice level, “Why are you so intent on claiming Suzette’s baby as your grandchild?”

  “Because Teddy’s claiming the baby as his child. Because Teddy is happier and steadier—not always sober every minute, but steadier—when he’s with Suzette. Because I’ve watched Teddy and Suzette; they are good together. Because I saw Teddy’s face when he held the baby. Because the future matters more than the past. Because I want to choose happiness. Because I want to open up my world.”

  “You’re taking a big risk. You could get disappointed in any number of ways.”

  “Really? Gosh, I never knew the people you love could disappoint you.”

  “Helen, Teddy has always disappointed me. You know that.”

  “And Teddy knows that.”

  “I think Teddy was born hating me.”

  “Oh, Worth, no.”

  “Teddy and I have always had a difficult relationship, you know that. If I say left, Teddy turns right. If I say up, Teddy says down.”

  “We’ve talked about this, Worth. Teddy had to make his own identity as the third child with perfect older siblings.”

  “Yes, yes, I know. He’s the rebel in our family. But you have to admit, he takes his rebelliousness out on me more than on you or Charlotte or Oliver.” When Helen didn’t answer immediately, Worth asked, “Are you still there?”

  “I’m thinking.” After a moment, Helen said, “It’s true. Teddy has always struggled against you. But you have always made it clear that he hasn’t measured up.”

  “But he hasn’t! Helen, you know he’s as intelligent as the others, but he wouldn’t apply himself in school. His grades were terrible. He kept doing stupid damn things that got him kicked off sports teams and suspended from school. And he thought it was all funny.”

  “That’s true,” Helen admitted. “But let’s think about the present. Let’s think about Teddy and Suzette and their baby. This is serious, Worth. Even Teddy wouldn’t claim a baby just to irritate you.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Worth muttered.

  “Teddy loves Suzette. He loves the baby. He’s worked steadily and done well at the antiques shop. Oh, Worth, think about this. Think about how hard you’ve tried all your life to measure up to your father. You’ve tried so hard to be your father you haven’t ever figured out how to be yourself. You need to accept yourself, warts and all, and then you need to accept Teddy and the people he loves as your own. I think that’s what Teddy wants from you.”

  Worth’s next words surprised her. “Will you accept me, warts and all?”

  After a pause, Helen said softly, “I don’t know, Worth. I’ll have to think about it.”

  Helen kept herself busy during the day, helping Charlotte with the garden stand, rocking baby Dawn so Suzette could grab a nap, doing errands, shopping for household necessities like soap and toilet paper, and stocking the pantry and cupboards.

  In her mind she carried on a conversation with her mother-in-law, one just between her and Nona. How did you go on loving Herb after learning about his affair with Ilke? Helen wanted to ask. Helen could understand loving the baby. Babies were helpless, innocent, lovable. The question was, how did Nona—Anne—manage to go on after learning that her husband had slept with another woman? Did she ever trust Herb again?

  It had been wartime. Of course that made an enormous difference. And, Helen thought with a rueful smile, it probably was some help that Herb’s lover was dead. Helen didn’t wish death on Cindy, but it would be nice if the woman would move to another country.

  When Worth phoned that night, he said, “I feel like my entire world has fallen apart. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know where I’ve come from. And I don’t know who the baby—”

  “Her name is Dawn,” Helen reminded him.

  “—Dawn is. I keep wondering how I can accept the baby—Dawn—as my own grandchild.”

  “Perhaps it will help to remember how Nona accepted you.”

  Worth coughed, or choked, or, perhaps, sobbed. “How could she do that? How could she have loved me?”

  “She just did. She always loved you. Worth, think about it. Did you ever feel that she didn’t love you? You know you never once felt that way. If anything, you always thought she loved you more than she loved Grace.”

  “I know. I know.” He sounded hurt and lost and miserable. After a long silence, he said, “I want to accept this baby. But I can’t do it without you.”

  This was what she wanted to hear. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust him. “How do I know you won’t have another affair?”

  Worth’s voice was urgent. “Because I won’t. I promise.”

  Helen felt as if she were picking her way carefully through a dark maze of thorns and roses as she spoke her thoughts aloud, coming fresh to her realization. “So we both have to choose. We have to choose faith over doubt and trust over suspicion.”

  “Yes,” Worth said. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

  “We have to choose love over fear,” Helen said.

  “Yes.” Worth’s voice grew stronger. “I can do that. Can you?”

  “I want to do it.” She was surprised at how hope broke open inside her like a radiance, softening her sorrow and anger. Perhaps all along she had been hiding from herself just how much she wanted to remain with her husband. “Yes, I can do it.”

  “Thank God,” Worth said. He cleared his throat. “Look, Helen, I’ve got to take care of some matters at the bank tomorrow. But I’ll come to the island Tuesday, probably afternoon, as soon as I can get away. “All right?”

  “All right,” Helen replied.

  “Helen,” Worth said, and then she heard him draw in a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was clear and strong. “I’m coming back to see you, and my mother, and my granddaughter.”

  “Oh, Worth,” Helen replied, and for a while she couldn’t speak because of the tears that fell. But she held on to the phone, and in the silence she knew that Worth was there, too, connected to her still, connected to her again, through the mysterious elements of air and electricity and the even more mysterious magic of love.

  Twenty-seven

  Charlotte felt like a volcano just below boiling point, or a hurricane picking up speed, and she tried to use the energy her emotions generated to fuel her work. She was working hard in her garden, but for once the good hard physical labor would not calm her buzzing thoughts. Every night she tossed and turned, waking exhausted and cranky. She told Coop she was
too busy and tired to see him and stayed until dark in her garden, even though people were beginning to leave the island as the summer slowly drew to an end.

  Perhaps it was anxiety about Nona, Charlotte thought, that was keeping her on edge. Nona didn’t leave her room all week, and when Charlotte slipped in to say hello, she found her grandmother looking especially old and withered and tired.

  Perhaps it was just the heat, as Nona claimed. The late August weather was thick, humid, scorching.

  But no, Charlotte thought, as she automatically filled a basket with plum tomatoes for the garden stand, it was more than the weather. She didn’t feel good about Coop. Things were just too blurry with him. He was irresistible, he was sexy and funny and lovable. But she didn’t trust him, and she didn’t like herself when she was with him. She needed to pay attention to those feelings.

  And she was worried about her parents. It was Monday. Her father had been gone over a week. Her mother said he was in Boston, dealing with yet another crisis at the bank, but always before, every summer, he had spent weekends on the island. He loved his carefree weekends; he always said he needed them. She loved her father so much, but she loved her mother, too, and she loved Teddy, even though she wanted to shake some sense into him—but she’d always felt that way.

  She lugged her baskets of fresh veggies over to the farm stand and set them out. All the lettuce was already gone; she would have to pick more. But first, she had to grab something to eat. And perhaps take a quick swim to cool off.

  When she entered the kitchen, she found her mother there, tossing an enormous salad.

  “Oh, good,” Helen said. “You can join us for lunch! Look.” She pointed with her wooden spoon. “I’ve made my own version of a Cobb salad, with lobster instead of chicken.”