Nancy Thayer

by Summer House (v5)

  “Really?” Next to her, Whit broke into a big smile. He turned to look at Charlotte. “How do you feel about that?”

  “I’m glad.” Charlotte lifted her head and wiped the back of her hands across her wet cheeks. “I won’t deny I’ve always had a kind of crush on Coop. But over the summer I’ve gotten to know him, and we’re so different it would never have worked out between us. And I know how bad Mee has felt since her divorce, she’s been feeling unattractive and unloved and all of that, and now she can feel superior and smug and ravishingly irresistible because she’s ‘stolen’ Coop from me.” Charlotte looked up at Whit. “What I want to know, what I need to know, is whether or not I should tell Mee that I slept with her husband. I mean, I don’t want her to feel guilty about Coop.”

  Whit studied her face. “You’ve got quite a complicated system of checks and balances going on inside your head.”

  She nodded, agreeing.

  “It seems to me,” Whit said slowly, “that Mee ‘stealing’ Coop from you shouldn’t make Mee feel as guilty as you feel about sleeping with her husband. Plus, Mee is just a bit—this is only an observation, not a criticism—Mee’s less complicated than you. I don’t think she’ll feel guilty about Coop. So I don’t see that it would do any good to tell her about you and Phillip.”

  “Oh, thank heavens.” Charlotte sighed. “I think you’re right. Oh, you have no idea how good I feel now—how free!”

  “I’m flattered that you’ve come to me with this, Charlotte.”

  “You are sort of like family,” she told him.

  With a smile in his voice, he said, “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or bad.”

  Carefully, Charlotte chose her words. “I love my family. I’ve realized that I can’t be like Oliver and just move away to another part of the world and live my life separately. For better or worse, my life is going to be influenced by my family. For a while I fought against that, and I know some people would say I’m too—what is the pop word these days?—enmeshed. But I love my family. I love my mother and father, and I adore Nona, and I want to help Teddy, and I’m getting terribly fond of Suzette, and I’m irrationally wild about their baby, and I’m not sure I love Uncle Kellogg and Aunt Grace, but I do love my cousins and I’m glad they’re so temperamental about Suzette’s baby and my using Nona’s land, because it just makes them human and weak and fallible, and that makes me feel better about myself.” Charlotte was crying again. “Oh, Whit. I’m an idiot.”

  “True, but a very attractive one,” Whit told her. Reaching out, he put his arm around her and pulled her next to him in a brotherly hug.

  Charlotte leaned against him, grateful for his strength, his maleness, his calm, and cried for a while, in the shelter of his arms.

  After a while, Charlotte said reluctantly, “I have to get back to the garden.”

  “All right,” Whit said, but he didn’t take his arms away.

  “Whit?”

  “Mm?”

  “Could we have dinner tonight?”

  “Damn. I can’t. I’ve got plans. And may I hasten to add, family plans.”

  “Oh. Oh, well….” Charlotte pulled herself away from him and stood. She began to gather up the thermos and cups.

  Whit rose, too. “How about tomorrow night?”

  She looked at him, aware that her face was streaked with tears and her hair was probably all over the place. In spite of that, she sensed his desire for her. It was as certain as the sunlight.

  “Dinner? Tomorrow night? Sounds wonderful.”

  They walked beneath the low green ceiling of leaves and branches up out of the secluded glade and back along the dirt road to Altar Rock and their cars. All around them, beach plums and rose hips glistened among the heath and low bushes, and a hawk wheeled high overhead in the flawless blue sky. Charlotte felt as if she were suddenly possessed of a rare, clear, pure happiness—it was a delicate gift, almost liquid, contained within her heart like elixir in a sacred vessel. She wanted to be motionless; she wanted to simply exist, feeling this way. Cleansed. And new.

  Twenty-eight

  Helen steered the old Chrysler into a parking spot in the airport lot and took a moment to check her reflection in the mirror. When Worth phoned this morning to tell her he would be arriving at five-thirty, he sent her into a kind of young love fit of jitters. She tried on several outfits, finding them all wrong—the shirt with the low bodice was too suggestive, the khaki trousers were too prim, and her favorite sundress seemed too dressy. She settled on the sundress finally, carefully put on makeup, and then hurriedly washed it all off.

  She was lucky she’d made it to the airport in time.

  As she walked toward the terminal, her heart began to leap and bound. And when she saw Worth coming from the baggage section, his duffel bag in his hand, she almost giggled with nervousness. Had she forgotten how handsome he was, how striking?

  He scanned the crowd, and when he saw Helen he smiled.

  She waited as he made his way toward her.

  “Hi,” he said simply, and bent down to kiss her lips.

  It was only a quick, neat, familial kiss—Worth did not like public displays of affection—but Helen nearly swooned like a schoolgirl. My goodness, she thought, how the body goes along just doing what it wants to do!

  He took her hand as they left the terminal and headed toward the Jeep.

  “Good flight?” she asked.

  “Easy,” he told her. “Ah, the island air is so much nicer than the city’s. It’s good to be here.”

  “It’s good to have you here,” she said, then bit her lip at the formality of her words.

  When they reached the Jeep, Worth hesitated. “I have an idea.”

  “Yes?”

  “Let’s stay at an inn. Let’s stay at an inn, and eat dinner out, and not go back to Nona’s until tomorrow.”

  Helen said the first thing that came into her mind, “But in August! During high season! It will be so expensive.”

  “It will be so private,” Worth countered. “I want to spend some time alone with you.”

  Helen flushed. “We’ll have to phone them or they’ll worry. What will we tell them?”

  “I’ll call them. I’ll tell them we’re spending the night in town and will be home tomorrow. That’s all they need to know.”

  “I don’t have a toothbrush,” Helen said weakly.

  “We’ll buy one.” He held the car door. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  The drive from the airport to the center of town was only a matter of a few miles. Worth choose an inn halfway between the Jetties Beach and town. It was larger than the cozy B&Bs and it had parking. There was a vacancy, and they were given a room, and before Helen had really accustomed herself to the idea, they were walking down the long carpeted hallway. Air-conditioning blew, tempering the air, and the silence was sheltering. Worth keyed the door open, ushered Helen inside, and shut the door behind them. The room was comfortable, clean, and anonymous. They were closed away from the world.

  A jealous thought popped into Helen’s mind: Was this the sort of place Worth had taken Cindy?

  Stop it! she mentally ordered herself. Love over fear, remember?

  “Let’s go to bed.” Worth held out his hand.

  Helen hesitated. Suddenly, she felt shy. She put her hand in his.

  Worth led her to the king-size bed. Together they turned back the covers. He crossed the room to pull the draperies shut, but a streak of daylight still striped the room, and Helen felt even more timid. She did not want to be judged and found ugly in comparison to a younger woman. And yet this was such a new moment between them, she didn’t want to spoil it with her jealousy.

  Worth quickly stripped off his clothes and slid naked into bed. She undressed too and got into bed, pulling the covers up.

  Worth turned on his side to look at her. “Come here often?” he asked.

  She laughed, grateful for his attempt at humor. Reaching out, she put her hand on his chest. He was so warm.<
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  Worth pulled her to him. At first she was awkward, insecure, and too occupied with her thoughts, but her husband wooed her with his hands and mouth until she surrendered to the moment, and then they were together, warm and tender, familiar, but excitingly just a little strange, a little new. In the heat of the moment, she wept, and her husband kissed her tears.

  Afterward, they slept.

  When they woke, it was evening.

  “Hungry?” Worth asked.

  “Starving.” Helen stretched her limbs in the bed, which, after her nights on the sleeping-porch daybed, felt luxurious. “Should we walk into town?”

  “Do you suppose they have room service?” Worth asked.

  Helen grinned. “I bet the Red Sox have a night game.”

  “You’re right,” Worth admitted.

  He rose from the bed and stalked naked across the room to the desk where the leather portfolio lay. “Ah. They do. Have room service.” He looked at Helen.

  “It sounds lovely,” she said.

  Worth phoned in their order, and then, at Helen’s request, dialed Nona’s number.

  “Ah, Glorious, it’s you. Wonderful. Look, Helen and I are spending the night in town. We just wanted to let everyone know so you don’t wonder where we are.” Worth grinned as he listened to the voice clamoring around Glorious. “No, thank you, Glorious, we don’t need to talk to Grace. We’re fine, and we’ll be home tomorrow, around noon. Would you please tell Nona this yourself? Thanks.”

  “Poor Grace,” Helen said, not without a bit of pleasure. “She must be crazy curious.”

  “It will be good for her,” Worth said.

  “Well, we’re only an old married couple having room service and watching television,” Helen said.

  Worth smiled at her from across the room. “Two people, together,” he said.

  Wednesday morning, Helen and Worth walked into town, ate a long satisfying breakfast at Fog Island, then sauntered up and down the cobblestone streets like a pair of tourists. Worth bought The New York Times and Helen bought a toothbrush. It was fun to be in town in the morning along with all the other people—families, dog walkers, and lovers, young and old—strolling along, enjoying the bright day.

  But when the hour came to check out of their hotel room, reality descended. It was time to return to the summer house.

  Worth drove the old Chrysler, and Helen sat in the passenger seat. As they drove along the winding road, Helen studied her husband’s face. “How do you feel about Nona’s news?”

  “I’m still processing it. And it’s still hard. I don’t think I’m ready to tell the children yet.”

  “Do they ever need to know?” Helen asked.

  “Yes. Yes, I think they do. Sometime. And Grace should know, too. But Nona took her own sweet time telling me. I don’t want to rush things. We’ve all had enough drama this summer.”

  “Yes,” Helen murmured. “That’s certainly true.”

  Worth reached across and took Helen’s hand. “I want to talk to Teddy and Suzette. I want to tell them I’m sorry I acted like an asshole. I want them to know I’m ready to love their baby—” “She’s very easy to love,” Helen said.

  “—and maybe we can just have a normal family life for a while.” Helen laughed. “If there is any such thing as normal family life!”

  Drooping heavily with leaves, the roadside trees and abundant bushes made a green tunnel of the road. In the verge, asters and wild daisies and Queen Anne’s lace dotted the green with yellow and pink and white. They arrived at Nona’s driveway, turned onto the dirt lane, and suddenly slowed.

  “What’s that hellish noise?” Worth asked.

  Helen listened, frowning, to an unnerving shrill whine, vibrating, shaking the air. “I don’t know, Worth. I can’t imagine.”

  Worth stepped on the gas, sending the Chrysler speeding over the dirt road. As they grew closer to the house, the noise grew louder and more intense.

  They came to a halt in the middle of the drive.

  Two enormous dump trucks blocked the way. One had a chipper attached behind it. A man wearing heavy black earphones was feeding branches into the machine, which screamed shrilly as it ground away, spitting chips into the truck bed. Behind him, two men wielded chain saws as they sliced branches off the privet hedge. Already one side of the hedged garden had been removed. Bare stumps protruded from the ground. The sun flooded in on the slates, warming ground that had been shaded for generations.

  Worth and Helen jumped out of the car and ran down the drive, around the trucks, and into the house.

  Nona was in the living room, seated on her chaise, watching through the closed French doors as the men worked. She looked wonderful. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright with excitement. She wore a pair of white fur earmuffs. Seeing Worth and Helen, she yelled, “It’s the only way I can tolerate the noise. It’s all too fascinating not to watch!”

  “Nona!” Worth cried. “What’s going on?”

  “Exactly what you see, dear. I’m having those hedges taken down. I’ve wanted to do it all my life. I have no idea why I’ve waited so long. It’s going to be awfully noisy here for a few days. Once they get all the branches down, they’ve got to dig out the stumps. And then, then, my dear, we’ll plant a real garden, full of dahlias and cornflowers and roses.”

  She held up an ancient pair of mink earmuffs to Helen. “Want some?”

  Helen took them and settled them on her head. The day was hot, and fur on the head was not the wisest choice, but the earmuffs did soften the noise considerably.

  Nona yelled, “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s fabulous!” Helen yelled back. “Look at all the sunshine!”

  “I’m thinking about all the flowers we can plant now,” Nona said. “I want to talk to Charlotte about this. She’ll know what sorts of things grow well in full sun.”

  Worth yelled, “Where’s Grace?”

  “Oh, Grace has gone off in a flap. She’s afraid I’ve gone nuts. Perhaps you can calm her down.”

  Helen exchanged a look with her husband. “I’m not sure Worth is up for any more family responsibility these days.”

  “That’s all right,” Nona said. “You are. Oh, look.” She pointed. “That tree is about to go.”

  The air shuddered with the noise of the chain saw as a small privet tree, freed of its lower branches, was cut down. It toppled slowly to one side, letting the sunlight illuminate another rectangular portion of Nona’s land.

  Full Bloom

  Twenty-nine

  Charlotte slipped into her shed, where the noise of the saws was slightly diminished, and started to punch Whit’s number into her cell phone.

  She hesitated. Was this the right thing to do? Was she just grasping at any excuse to see him again? She would see him tonight. Couldn’t she wait? Shouldn’t she wait?

  She hadn’t slept well that night—but it had been a happy insomnia, filled with sensations and desire and a kind of terrified hope. This morning it had felt good to rise early and stalk out to her garden, to pick and wash vegetables and set them on her farm table.

  Then the tree service arrived with their chain saws and trucks and chippers, and her concentration was destroyed.

  She’d raced up to the house to see what was happening. Nona was sitting just inside the French doors, watching the work and looking absolutely beatific. Grace fluttered around wringing her hands and fretting while Mandy shadowed Christian, who was fascinated by the workers and their tools. To escape from the noise, Suzette carried her baby down to the little beach where Glorious had set up some chairs, and after a while pregnant Mellie joined her, with Mandy’s daughter Zoe in her arms. Grace drove Teddy to work and returned home to phone Kellogg in Boston, begging him to come home and help her—she was afraid Nona had lost her mind.

  Charlotte returned to her garden, but now in the dazzling sunlight her thoughts flew around her head like brilliant butterflies. Nona was taking the hedges down! It was amazing.

/>   Actually, it was monumental.

  And she wanted to share it with Whit.

  She punched in the final number. The phone rang. Whit said, “Hello?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, “but could you help me survive one more family event?”

  Whit came immediately. He parked on the side of the drive and met Charlotte just outside her shed.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Come see.” Taking his hand, Charlotte led him up the drive.

  The air was filled with the buzz and shriek of machinery, and sawdust filled the air as branches and limbs fell to the ground.

  Whit shouted something at Charlotte, but she shook her head and pointed to her ears. “Follow me!” she yelled. “My room’s at the back of the house, so we’ll be able to hear ourselves speak.”

  She took him in through the living room where Nona and Glorious sat, wearing earmuffs, watching the hedge fall. They all waved hello. Charlotte drew Whit up two flights of stairs to the attic. She pulled him into her room and shut the door. It was probably twenty degrees hotter here than on the ground floor, but a fresh breeze swept off from the ocean into the small gabled chamber.

  There was only one chair in the room and it was covered with clothes. She gestured to Whit to sit on the bed while she paced the floor.

  “Whit, what do you think?”

  “Nona looks like she’s having the time of her life,” Whit said.

  “Yes. Why, yes, you’re right, Whit. Oh, I’m glad you’re here. Nona does look happy, doesn’t she? I mean, I don’t need to worry about her, do I? But Whit, taking down the hedge is such a stupendous event! It’s been there for at least two generations! Shouldn’t Nona have discussed it with us? Or, at the very least, had some kind of family ceremony, maybe with champagne? This is all so casual! So weird!”