Night Mares in the Hamptons

by Celia Jerome

  Somewhere between my dreams and my book, I’d started to feel protective about Letitia, Letty. “That man Lewis is not rough with the girl, is he?”

  Louisa had no idea. “As I said, I never see the child to speak to. The parents attend the exhibit openings and the concerts here in the summer, so I bump into them occasionally, but they never bring her. I understand there’s a live-in housekeeper, too, now that the girl doesn’t need a nanny or a nurse, so it’s not like she’s left alone with him all the time. For that matter, you know this town. I would have heard if anyone suspected Lewis was abusing the child. Or bedding the wife. I haven’t heard anything like that.”

  “Okay, thanks for the information. I’ll see what I can do about getting Letty to the arts center.” I had my sunglasses on and was ready to leave, again.

  “You better let me call, Willy. You’ll never succeed if Mr. Froeler is there. He and your mother had a run-in a while back.”

  “Because they killed the pony?”

  “She already despised him for that”—Ty gave his similar opinion of that action with a grunt—“but they argued afterward.”

  It seemed my mother, with her usual attitude of letting no stone go unhammered, wanted information on the pharmaceutical company Froeler owned somewhere in Nassau County to find out whether they conducted experiments on animals there. He told her, in effect, that it was none of her business. So she told him, in the exact words, to go screw himself. At the funeral parlor, during the wake for Rick Stamfield’s mother.

  “Oh, no.”

  “At least it wasn’t at the funeral,” Louisa said, as if that would make me feel better about Mother and her missions.

  Dante laughed and commented on the Tate women’s history of dramatics.

  But Ty said, “I am going to love your mother, darlin’.”

  I didn’t like the look on Louisa’s face, as if she were planning her matron of honor outfit. I took a step farther away from Ty. “Don’t call me that!” Then I asked if Mom ever found out about the animal testing.

  Louisa shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  “What does the company make?”

  “Money, as far as I know, from the way they live. Or Alice’s first husband was really loaded. Froeler’s generous enough, likes his name on the letterhead and the donor list. The hospital left him off the roster by mistake one year and he never contributed again. He’s not here a lot midweek, so maybe we’ll get lucky and be able to work on the mother without him.”

  “The kid really wants to write. Someone should encourage her.”

  “That’d be you. Let me call and see what I can accomplish.”

  “With all you have to do? I’ll try by myself, to start. And I think a personal visit is best, so they can see I’m not threatening. Letty will be there, and I know she is on my side.”

  “Well, good luck with that. I’m sure you’ll have enough kids to work with either way.”

  I wanted that one.

  Ty squeezed my hand when we were back outside. “I like your friends and I like your town. You’ve got good people here, people who care. But you’re the best, Willow Tate.”

  So I kissed him, right there in the front of the arts center. Someone beeped their horn and a kid on a bicycle whistled. Ty laughed. Then he asked me to go to dinner with him.

  “You mean like on a date? A real date?” We’d already had wild, passionate lovemaking, and now he wanted to play the singles bit? Talk about putting the cart before the horse.

  “A real date, you and me.”

  “What about the mares?”

  “We can’t do anything until after dark, either way. So let’s enjoy ourselves. Maybe go out of town where not everyone knows you. I’ll be busy the rest of the day talking to my show manager and PR staff about the show. What does Louisa want to call it? The Ride for the Ranch. And then phoning the lawyers about the property. I don’t want to go too far with this if the town won’t approve it. By five o’clock, the suits’ll all be done for the day, and I’ll need a drink and dinner and a beautiful woman by my side.”

  “I don’t think Dante will let Louisa go out with you.”

  Now he kissed me. “Luckily that’s not who I want.”

  I could feel his want right through our clothes. It must be contagious, because I didn’t want to wait till after dinner. “You don’t have to wine and dine me just to get into my bed. Save your money. You’ll need it to build your ranch.”

  “You really think the price of a dinner is going to make a difference? Willy, the price of a ticket to most of my shows is more than a little thing like you could eat. Even in New York.”

  I made a mental note to ask Dante what he’d found out about Ty’s finances. Just how rich was he, anyway? Football player rich? Movie star rich? Not that it mattered, of course. “I just don’t want you thinking you have to, uh, buy my affections.”

  “Didn’t Grant take you out fancy?”

  Grant who? I hadn’t thought of the Department of Unexplained Events agent in days. Which was easily explained by the way earthshaking sex tended to affect a girl’s memory.

  “He did. But we didn’t have a whole lot of time for plain entertainment before he left.”

  “Well, that’s what people do when they enjoy each other’s company. They make time. And if we don’t go out, we’ll spend the whole night in bed and I’ll be too drained by morning to do half what I need to.”

  Did that mean he wasn’t going to stay over? Maybe what I took as his interest was just my admittedly active imagination.

  When I didn’t say anything, Ty asked if I’d rather go to the movies or bowling.

  I’d have to dig up the movie schedule, but the bowling alley was still closed, thank goodness.

  “Of course, we could go skinny-dipping at that lake at the ranch and you could tell me what had you blushing fifteen years later.”

  “Dinner sounds great.”

  He laughed. “You pick the place, as long as your cousin isn’t cooking, your family isn’t sitting at the next table, and no one asks about the mares.”

  “How about Montauk? You haven’t seen it yet.”

  We picked a time, then separated. I did my errands on the way back to where I’d left my car.

  Walter at the drugstore added another batch of condoms to my bag when I bought mouthwash.

  Joanne at the deli gave me a half a tuna wrap, warning I was going to have a big meal later.

  And Bill at the hardware store set the metal blanks at the key-cutting machine to chiming out “We Need a Hero.”

  Emil the jeweler was having one of his tools sharpened. “Bring your young man around to look at rings. The stones will tell if he’s the right one this time.”

  The mayor was buying a new flag for Town Hall. Mr. Applebaum worked part-time for free, and was overpaid at that. Mostly a figurehead, he missed meetings and lost papers, but no one seemed to remember that come election time. A board of councillors ran the local government anyway. And he was a nice man.

  “Want me to make people forget you were engaged last month to that Englishman? Or how about forgetting they all saw you making out on the arts center steps?”

  “No, thanks, but if you could make them forget about that old incident at the ranch, I’d be grateful.”

  “No chance, Willow. It’s too good a story to slip anyone’s memory.”

  Getting out of town for awhile would be lovely.

  CHAPTER 30

  BEFORE GOING HOME I DECIDED to get groceries at the bigger supermarket in Amagansett. With Ty and Connor around, we were going through supplies fast, and the cranky Findels did not deserve my business. Besides, there were a couple of little shops there where I might find something special to wear tonight.

  On my way back I drove past Osprey Street.

  I asked Mrs. Desmond if she could make another cup of alphabet soup for me, with an H, a T and an A.

  “You’re looking to see if your hat is alive or dead? Or do you mean if your love for t
he gentleman in the cowboy hat has a chance? I’m sorry, Willow. This doesn’t work that way.”

  “It’s a horse. That colt we’ve all been looking for. I need to know if he is alive or not.”

  “Oh, dear. I hoped we were done with that. Let’s have a look.”

  All the letters floated. H’tah lived. Somewhere.

  Margaret assured me the braided bracelets usually worked. A person’s finding wish came true if it were a worthy one, and if the wearer wished hard enough. “You didn’t wish for a man riding a white horse, did you?”

  “No, just a white colt. His name is H’tah.”

  “I thought his mother found him at the ranch. That’s how come things have settled down around the Harbor. We all figured that you found him and sent them to get him home.”

  “We can’t be sure.”

  She bit her lip, but studied the bracelet she’d made for me. It still looked brand-new, despite showers and hand washings. “I guess you’re still looking and wishing to find him. And you will. I’m not sure how or when, or if the village can survive it, but you’ll have that bracelet until you do.”

  Then she handed me a shawl made of some gossamer stuff, dyed in all the blues of the ocean. It weighed as much as a spiderweb.

  “Until then, this will be perfect for dinner tonight.”

  “You’re not . . .?”

  “Telepathic? Clairvoyant?” She laughed. “Of course not. I’m a weaver. But I got a phone call from my sister’s friend who was buying potato salad at the deli.”

  She wouldn’t take money for the shawl, so I promised to drop off a signed book tomorrow.

  “Just have a good time tonight, Willow. You deserve it.”

  I did. That is, I deserved it, and I did have a good time.

  We almost didn’t make it out the door.

  Either Ty was getting more good-looking every time I saw him or I was looking at him through love-colored glasses. Not that I was that deep into this relationship to give it the L word. Not yet. He was gorgeous in a sport coat and trousers with an open-collar blue shirt. They all looked like they’d been made for him, and I guess they had. Money, looks, class, and a soft southern drawl. Oh, my.

  His smile when he saw me was even more stunning. I didn’t find a blue blouse to match my new shawl, but I did spot a spaghetti-strap dress in green silk that worked. At first I had to ask the saleslady if it was meant for a nightgown or under something else, but she laughed and told me to try it on. The amount of fabric when I slid it off the hanger looked too small for a coat for Little Red. No bra was possible, but the saleslady said some women used Band-Aids if they didn’t want their nipples pointing. I decided the shawl was good enough cover. And since the shawl was free, I went to the shoe store next door and bought high-heeled sandals with blue and green glass solitaires on the straps.

  My credit card slips were already daunting, so I went to the pet store and bought Little Red a new collar. That was only fair, wasn’t it, since I was going out without him? I bought chews for all the dogs, and went to the bookstore to see if they’d reordered my new book. There it was on the shelf, three copies this time. I was rich again.

  And well dressed. Ty stood rooted to the floor in the doorway of my house. “Maybe dinner’s not such a good idea. We should go to a movie where no one else can see you in that . . . that . . .”

  I twirled around so he could see the view from the back. His indrawn breath told me what I wanted to know. “That sex goddess outfit?”

  “Yeah. That, too. I’m not hungry. Don’t feel like driving. My back hurts.”

  “I have some chips and beer and a comfy sofa.”

  “That works for me.”

  I took his arm and pointed him out the door. “Not on your life, cowboy. You think I got all fancied up just for you?” Well, I did, but he didn’t have to know that. “You promised me a night on the town, and we’re going.”

  “How long counts as a night?”

  He ran his hand down the smooth fabric of the skimpy dress.

  Not long at that rate. I headed for the car.

  I should have headed in the other direction. Not away from his car, but toward East Hampton instead of Montauk. I forgot what that place was like in the summer. All the fancy restaurants that took reservations were fully booked. The ones that didn’t take reservations had lines out the doors. The ones with no lines were mostly ones I wouldn’t eat at. The food was bad, the owners had bad reputations, the bars were too noisy or too rough; they were tourist traps.

  What the hell, we were tourists tonight. We ate at Gosman’s, a huge complex right on the inlet to Montauk Harbor. We didn’t eat in the big restaurant itself, but waited ten minutes for a table at one of its satellites, Top Side, that was on the roof of the clam bar and overlooked the jetties, the fishing docks, the beach across the way, and the sunset. That’s why all the tourists were here. That and the lobsters.

  I wore a paper bib. Damned if I was going to ruin this dress at one wearing. Ty had managed to get through three decades of life without eating a lobster, so he ordered one, too. Then I had to show him how to eat it. You cannot be serious, or even filled with lust, when wearing a paper bib and dribbling butter down it or getting squirted in the eye when you used the nutcrackers. I suppose watching him suck on a leg could have been a turn-on, if I hadn’t been busy trying to winkle the last bit of meat out of the claw. Mostly we laughed and swapped stories about bad meals and bad dates and social mishaps.

  While we waited for coffee—we were both too full for dessert—Ty took my hand across the table with its flickering candle in a glass jar. “Thank you. That was a wonderful meal. I don’t get to eat with friends that often, traveling as much as I do. This was special.”

  I smiled. “Me or your first lobster?”

  “Both. I will always remember this night, and this time. And when I think about it, you know what I’ll picture? You. You are Paumanok Harbor.” He ran his fingers through my hair, that I’d spent an hour getting just right. “The gold of the sun.” Then he stared at my eyes. “The blue of the sky. That gauzy thing you’re wearing is the water, and that dress is the green of the fields and the woods.” He leaned over and kissed me. “And your lips are a rare delicacy, dipped in butter.”

  I couldn’t help it. Tears came to my eyes. Not that I’m a weeper. I know men hate that.

  Ty jumped back. “What’s wrong? Did I say something stupid?”

  Not as stupid as me wanting more. “It’s just that the night is so perfect. You are so perfect. And you’ll be leaving soon.”

  His eyes lowered to study where he had his hand over mine. He nodded. “As soon as the show is over. I can have my lawyers handle the details of the land, but I have other commitments. My work, promises to horse breeders, shows scheduled.”

  “I know. I am just being silly.”

  He touched his thumb to my eye, wiping away the moisture. And the makeup I’d spent another half hour on. “Not silly. You’re being loving, because that is the way you are. I’ll be back when it’s time to build, or to move horses onto the ranch.”

  “It won’t be the same.”

  “Life goes on. But what we have doesn’t have to end. We don’t have to end. Come with me, Willow. Come see how you’d like life on the road. New places, new people.” He crumpled his paper bib. “New tastes to savor. New memories.”

  Me, who hated to stay in hotels, to fly in airplanes? Who had bad dreams about taxi drivers with eye patches? “What would I do while you are training horses or performing?”

  “You could write your books, or go sightseeing or shopping. You could do whatever you want.”

  Except walk the beach with the dogs, stay in one place until I’d seen everything, grow my own pot of tomatoes. And for how long? “Until you moved on.”

  I didn’t mean to another city and Ty knew it. He rubbed his thumb over the palm of my hand. “I’ve never felt like this about a woman before. Like wanting to be with her, just be with her, after I’ve been in
her bed. Like this. Friends. Companions. Lovers. For as long as we both want. I didn’t know it could be this way, so fast, so sure. I know I don’t want to leave you. At least think about coming with me.”

  “I will.” We both knew I wouldn’t.

  There wasn’t much else to say, so we sipped our coffees in silence. You could hear the lapping of the waves against the dock, and every once in a while the engine of a boat going by with its lights on. The seagulls were gone for the night to wherever seagulls slept. If not for the fifty or so other diners, we could be alone.

  While we waited for the check, a woman about my age asked for Ty’s autograph. She had to be a tourist. The locals knew better than to bother a celebrity like that. That’s why the big names all came here.

  The woman said she’d seen both of his shows in Las Vegas, and she’d bought his video of the master class in dressage. When she started to tell him about her half-Arabian gelding, without once looking at me, Ty cut her off with information about the upcoming show at Paumanok Harbor. I worried the female would fall over the railing she was so excited. She rushed back to her table to tell her friends, and you could see the buzz spreading through the crowd like wind through beach grass.

  He really was famous. Maybe not a household name—not my household, anyway—but enough that two more people came over to ask for an autograph or if he was going to be training at any of the local stables and could they come watch. Even a guy I recognized from the polo club came to shake his hand. The jerk smiled at me, without recognition.

  While Ty was talking to his fans, a woman came toward me with a paper napkin and a pen. I was proud, I was a star, I was somebody. Until she asked where I got my shawl.

  Things went downhill after that. Literally. One of my brand-new sandals caught in a gap on the stairway planks down to the dock level. The heel broke off, and I lost my balance. The maitre d’ was coming up the stairs with a bottle of champagne from the bar below.