Summer Beach Reads 5-Book Bundle: Beachcombers, Heat Wave, Moon Shell Beach, Summer House, Summer Breeze

by Thayer, Nancy

  This, she told herself, is why you shouldn’t be alone in wide open spaces, because then you start worrying and remembering and you get maudlin and imaginative. Be a big girl, for heaven’s sake!

  She swam back to shore, dried off, and walked back to the house.

  “Would you like to see my garden?” Charity Wheelwright asked.

  Anne smiled, pleased. “Yes, of course.” She had showered and dressed in a neat blue checked seersucker shirtwaist, slipped her feet into sandals, and pulled her hair into a chignon, to keep her neck cool. When she entered the living room, she found Charity Wheelwright seated by open French doors, working on a needlepoint sampler. The invitation surprised Anne and pleased her. Could there be an invitation more charming, more full of hope, than one to “my garden”? Now, perhaps, she’d discover her mother-in-law’s soft side. And Anne, who had never paid attention to flowers before, would learn all about gardening from her mother-in-law. She would carry on Charity’s gardening traditions! They would have a common pursuit to discuss!

  Charity walked out onto the raked gravel. Anne followed. They stood for a moment, blinking in the early evening sun. When Herb had introduced Anne to his parents, it had been winter, and they had not come out this way. As Anne looked about her, she saw high walls of crisply clipped privet hedge cut at natty, sharp right angles.

  “The high hedges for privacy, you see,” Charity said.

  Yes, Anne thought, you really need privacy out here on an island a thousand miles from anywhere, on an isolated chunk of land populated by deer, birds, and rabbits.

  “Also,” Charity continued, “the hedges provide a sense of civilization and order in the midst of all this”—she waved her hand vaguely—“wilderness.”

  Anne knew she had to say something appropriately complimentary. “Yes, I see,” was the best she could do.

  Charity walked along the gravel path, and Anne dutifully followed. The hedged garden was essentially one long rectangle. Inside was another, shorter rectangle of privet, and inside that was yet another, even shorter privet box. At the center of all the boxes was a stone plinth and a small sundial.

  Charity Wheelwright stood before it, smiling. “What do you think?”

  Anne said, “It’s charming. Really charming.” Actually, she thought, it’s absurd, these rigid lines closing space in and in and in. She could see how it would be considered horticulturally interesting, and certainly it was unusual, but it made her feel claustrophobic. But if this was what made Charity Wheelwright happy, Anne would learn to love it, or at least admire it. She would do whatever would help bring peace between them. More than anything, Anne wanted peace.

  Fifteen

  On the morning of Family Meeting, Charlotte woke to a steady downpour. The air held a chill, so she yanked an old sweatshirt on over her work clothes and headed downstairs. The house was quiet, everyone else, even the children, still asleep. She was careful to ease the mudroom door shut without a sound as she stepped into the rain.

  It must have rained all night. The ground was sodden, and that made her feel a bit better about missing an afternoon in the garden because of Family Meeting. She entered the shed, grateful for its warmth and light, peeled off her yellow rain slicker, picked up the clipboard she had hanging on a hook, and reviewed her scribbled daily notes and reminders. One thing for certain, she couldn’t set up her farm stand when the rain was so heavy. It would wash the bags of lettuce right off the table, tear the flower petals, and turn the money box into a miniature bathtub. She needed to think of a way to protect that table, so she set the thought in the back of her mind and concentrated on seeding more lettuce and filling ornamental pots with vibrant mixtures of flowers.

  As she worked, she allowed her thoughts to wander out of the shed, across Nona’s land onto Coop’s, and into the house where Coop no doubt lay sleeping. Three days after Nona’s birthday party, Coop had again dropped by the garden to invite Charlotte out for a sail and again she had had to refuse. Coop had understood. He’d even joked about booking her for the first of November. Two days ago he’d phoned to ask her out to dinner tonight, and once again she’d had to decline. Today, she told him, was Family Meeting, and it was the family’s custom to go out to dinner afterward. This is the third time I’ve refused, she thought, a bit desperately, so she quickly added, “How about tomorrow night?” She would ask her mother, or even Teddy, to deliver the fresh produce to the three restaurants she supplied. Coop had agreed. He’d suggested sailing across to Coatue. He’d bring a picnic dinner. Wear a bathing suit, he’d said, and now Charlotte experienced a little frisson of excitement at the thought of the two of them together, on a solitary beach, in the warm evening air.…

  Jorge stomped into the shed, stripped off his rain poncho, and said, “It’s raining cats and mice out there.”

  Charlotte grinned. “Cats and dogs.” She gave him his instructions for the morning and allowed herself a break. She needed coffee. As she ran to the house, she couldn’t avoid splashing through puddles, so water sprayed up against her legs and by the time she got to the house her boots were thick with mud. That’s why Nona has a mud-room, she told herself, and sat down on the bench to undo the laces.

  She heard voices from the kitchen. This old house had peculiar acoustics. In some rooms you couldn’t hear someone speaking from five feet away. In other rooms, conversations from next door came through as clearly as if on speakerphone.

  “Helen, I agree with you about Owen.” It was Charlotte’s father speaking, his voice low and intense. “He and Oliver have been together for five years. They behave like adults. They’re self-supporting. They’re holding a commitment ceremony, another sign of their stability. I have no problem with Owen attending Family Meeting. As Oliver’s life partner, Owen belongs at Family Meeting. But Suzette is a completely different matter.”

  Charlotte sat paralyzed on the bench, holding her breath. She didn’t want her parents to know she could hear them.

  Calmly, Helen asked, “Would you like some more coffee?”

  Charlotte relaxed.

  “No, thank you. Listen, Helen, you and I have both asked, at separate times, for Teddy to provide us some proof that Suzette is actually his wife. And Teddy has not complied.”

  Helen’s voice sharpened. “Oh, Worth, your language. Teddy has not complied. This is not a business matter.”

  “Well, Family Meeting absolutely is a business matter. I don’t want some stranger knowing the details of our financial holdings.”

  “She’s not a stranger.”

  “No? Who is she? Where is she from? Who are her parents? Does she have any kind of education? How did she and Teddy meet? And if her baby is not Teddy’s, then he or she is not entitled to any of the Wheelwright money.”

  “Come on! Teddy loves her. And since he’s been with her he’s been drug and alcohol free. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Enough? I don’t think so. It’s certainly wonderful, Helen. I love Teddy. I want to see him live a good healthy life. But we’ve been through so much with him before. I’d like to see a few months go by before I consider Teddy cleaned up. And I’d like to see some proof that they’re married. That the child is Teddy’s.”

  “You know how Teddy is! He’s dug his heels in. The more we ask, the less he’ll tell. I think we have to take his word for it that they’re married and that the baby is his.”

  Worth’s voice mellowed with a kind of amused humor. “You just want to have a grandchild, Helen. You want one so much you’re willing to take an outsider. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “Oh, Worth, you’re so—stubborn.”

  After a moment’s silence, Worth said gently, “Am I? Really? I didn’t think we should allow Teddy and Suzette to stay here this summer. I thought we should force Teddy to support himself. But you felt very strongly about the matter and so I agreed.”

  Very quietly Helen admitted, “I know. I know you did.”

  “I love Teddy just as much as you do, Helen.”

  �
�I know you do,” she said. After a moment, with a sigh, she said, “All right. But who’s going to tell Teddy Suzette isn’t invited?”

  “We’ll tell her together,” Worth said, just as Helen sneezed. “Are you catching a cold? It’s not very smart, spending the night on a sleeping porch during a rainstorm.”

  “As a matter of fact, Worth, I enjoy sleeping there very much.” Helen’s voice trailed off as she went out of the kitchen.

  Charlotte waited a few more minutes to be sure her father had left, too. In the kitchen she drank her coffee automatically, as if she were fueling a machine, and she didn’t even bother to scramble eggs or butter a muffin, she just munched cold cereal, her thoughts too troubled for pleasure.

  Family Meeting was held, as always, in the dining room of the Nantucket house. It began just after lunch and continued for most of the afternoon. Because it was hot in July, no one dressed formally. On the other hand, no one came to the table in shorts or grubby clothes after a morning of sailing. They showered and put on fresh clothing, and the women wore skirts or dresses.

  At noon, Charlotte drove in to deliver fresh produce to the restaurants she supplied. When she returned, she gave Jorge a long list of instructions and stomped through the rain to the mudroom. Grateful to find the kitchen empty, she quickly made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and raced upstairs to the attic, where she showered and dressed. She wore a blue button-down shirt with a khaki skirt; she had thought hard about what to wear to Family Meeting and decided this was best. It was as close as she could get to looking like a man. It made her look sexless, efficient, sober, and levelheaded—at least she hoped it did. While she ate her sandwich, she opened her folder and reviewed her notes. And then the clock struck one, she heard the voices of the family on the stairs as they headed toward the dining room, and, with her heart in her throat, she joined them.

  Nona sat at the head of the long wide dining table, in the chair Grandfather Herb had used until his death. Nona wore one of her Public Pajama outfits, this time in a staid gray, and she wore her pearls and a touch of lipstick. The rest of the family sorted itself out around the table, pulling out chairs, taking care to sit next to someone from the other side. Once all of Grace’s family had sat on one side, facing all of Worth’s family, and it had seemed too antagonistic. It had been uncomfortable. It was, after all, a family meeting. All in all, there were fourteen people today, the most ever: Nona; Worth, Helen, Charlotte, Oliver, Owen, and Teddy; Grace and Kellogg, Mandy and Claus, Mellie and Douglas, and Mee.

  Nona opened the session by thanking them all for her birthday celebration. “But please,” she invited, with a smile, “I beg you, help yourselves to the plunder. I’ve stacked it on the table in the front hall. I must have received seven boxes of lavender toilet water, even more boxes of perfumed soaps, and quite a bit of very nice Crane stationery. I intend to live a long life, but even so, I won’t be able to use up all my loot.”

  She turned the meeting over to Worth and Grace. Grace reminded them of various far-flung relatives and friends who had passed away over the last year. She handed out printed schedules of the charities the family supported and asked for comments or suggestions. Then Worth and Kellogg together presented a formal review of the family’s financial holdings. The presentation was detailed, complete with color-coded charts and graphs and footnotes and investment-objective assessments.

  Charlotte doodled on her yellow pad, half listening, half studying the faces of the others. Oliver and Owen sat at attention, handsome and solemn, seeming truly interested. Teddy, seated between Mee and Charlotte, was restless. He’d taken the trouble to change out of one of his ridiculous Hawaiian shirts into a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and he looked good. Perhaps thin, but good. His butterscotch hair could use a decent cut, but still he looked respectable.

  Worth spoke for a long time about how the Internet and ever-improved new technology were changing banking in ways no one could ever have foreseen. Customers were no longer coming into their familiar neighborhood bank where they knew the faces of the tellers and the reputations of the bank directors. More and more transactions occurred online. One way this impacted their bank was in personnel. Wisdom, experience, and a track record were less important than technological capability. The bank now hired, of necessity, young people, often very young people, because they needed employees who were technologically savvy Also, because of technology, a global market had opened up and could not be ignored if the return on the bank’s assets was going to be maximized. Many older employees were finding it difficult to adjust to the rapid changes in their profession. The bank directors had instituted a number of educational options, from in-house computer training seminars to a six-month leave of absence for intensive technological education. But many of their oldest employees found the computer programs too confusing, and they chafed against working with and being taught by younger, hipper staff members who seemed to have no respect for their elders. The problem was not one to be solved easily. After one hundred and thirty years of business, the Wheelwright Bank was assaulted by challenges it never could have foreseen.

  Bank business had always taken the majority of the time allotted for Family Meeting—so much so, in fact, that ten years ago Grandfather Herb had insisted on a limit. After all, he reminded them, it was a family meeting, not a meeting of the bank’s board of directors. Today Nona gently enforced the time limit by interrupting Kellogg, who would have droned on forever, saying that she needed a little breather; they would reconvene in fifteen minutes. The Bank Boys shoved back their chairs and charged off into separate corners to check messages on their cell phones and text directives, and Oliver and Owen did the same. Teddy raced off to check on Suzette, and Helen and Grace and their daughters carried in the pitchers of lemonade and ice-filled tumblers and plates of cookies that Glorious had made for the occasion.

  When they were all seated around the table again, munching cookies and sipping lemonade, the atmosphere was less formal.

  “The next item on the agenda,” Grace announced, “is the matter of Beach Grass Garden.”

  Charlotte’s heart thumped. The atmosphere in the room was still inharmonious, as if they’d geared up for a battle which had dissolved, leaving them ready to fight about anything. Still, she had done the best she could to prepare. She handed around neatly printed copies of her annual report. For a few moments the room was silent except for the rustling of papers as everyone skimmed her figures.

  Finally Kellogg spoke. “You show a profit of four thousand dollars for last year. Well done, Charlotte. Most small businesses don’t show a profit for at least three years. You’re ahead of the curve.”

  “And yet,” Mandy said, “you only made that profit because you are using Nona’s land.”

  “I’m paying Nona rent for the use of the land,” Charlotte replied.

  Mee barked out a laugh. “Yes, a pittance of what the land is really worth.”

  “I see much of the profit deriving from ‘container gardens,’ ” Claus said, tapping his forefinger on a line item on her financial statement. “What does that mean?”

  Charlotte had been hoping someone would ask this very question. “In the off season there’s not a lot I can do to make an income. The garden is basically done after the middle of November. But I discovered there is a huge demand for container gardens, as gifts and decorations.” Reaching into her folder, she brought out a few photos she’d printed off and passed them around the table. “These are container gardens.”

  The first garden was a fishbowl filled with sand, a variety of seashells, and a miniature evergreen tree made from a twig of pine, all of it sparkling with soap-flake snow. The second was an old wicker tray piled with gourds, autumn leaves still vivid with color, bits of barberry and ivy, and plumes of beach grass. The third was a china water pitcher filled with dried hydrangea.

  “These are cool,” Oliver said.

  “Did you make them yourself?” Grace asked.

 
“I did.” Charlotte started to elaborate, but Mandy cut her off.

  Mandy said, with a bite in her voice, “Under the expense column, I find no item for containers.”

  Charlotte smiled. “That’s because there was no expense. I get all the containers at the dump.”

  “Oh, gross!” Mee said.

  “Not gross at all,” Charlotte told her. “You have no idea of the quantity and quality of items that are dropped off at the Take It or Leave It shed. This island fills up with fifty thousand people in the summer, and the flower shops deliver centerpieces, arrangements, bouquets, and thank-you gifts to many of them. The containers—inexpensive glass vases and bowls—end up at the shed and I retrieve them. Then I give each one a thorough cleaning in the dishwasher, with hot water and a strong disinfectant soap.”

  “Ah!” Claus pounced. “So you are using Nona’s electricity and water for your own private gain.”

  “As you can see,” Charlotte coolly replied, “I pay for a portion of Nona’s electricity in addition to the rent I pay her for her land.” She looked around the table. “By using these containers, I’m holding to the guiding principle of Beach Grass Garden. A return to the natural, a return to local production and recycling.”

  “That’s all very nice,” Grace said, her voice tight. “Yet I am uncomfortable with your use of Nona’s land. You are setting a precedent here. You are making a profit from Nona’s land.”

  “I’m paying Nona rent for the land.”

  “True,” Nona agreed, leaning forward. “And I’ve put the money into a savings account, so that when I’m gone you can divide it equally among yourselves.”

  “Still.” Grace chewed her lip, discontent. “It’s the land,” she said finally. “It’s the use of the land. What if Charlotte continues to run Beach Grass Garden for years?”

  “Aunt Grace,” Charlotte replied, “that land has lain unused for years.”

  Oliver spoke up. “Here’s a thought. Charlotte is using three acres of Nona’s land. Why don’t Aunt Grace and her family choose three acres to use as they see fit?”