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

by Thayer, Nancy

  “Do you like to cook?”

  “I don’t know, really. I’ve waitressed so much, I’ve always had my biggest meal wherever I worked, and of course in New York I usually grabbed takeout. Your mother’s such a wonderful cook, so you probably learned from her without even thinking about it.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “Oh.” Natalie flipped her hand, waving her mother away. “She was more interested in making dog food.”

  “Tell me about her.” Ben leaned forward, elbows on the table.

  Natalie rose, got herself another cup of coffee, and looked out the window. “It’s a perfect day. We could go swimming.”

  “Or you could tell me about your mother.”

  Natalie sank back down in her chair. As concisely as possible, she described her early life: her father leaving, her mother and the bulldogs, the ramshackle house on a dirt road outside a depressed town in rural Maine.

  “Your mother must have been pretty strong,” Ben said. “And brave. Raising two kids alone without financial support, or any kind of support, from their father.”

  Natalie murmured, “I never thought of Mom as strong. Louise said the same thing, though, so maybe I wasn’t fair to her.”

  “I’d like to meet her.”

  Natalie made a scoffing noise. “Meet my mother? Ben. She’s not a thing like your mother. She’s a tough old bird.”

  “She would have to be, wouldn’t she?”

  “Are you trying to be contrary?”

  “I’m trying to get to know you.”

  “My mother never once encouraged me in my desire to be an artist. In fact, she discouraged me. That’s what you need to know.”

  “Your mother probably knew that artists seldom support themselves financially. I’ll bet she worried about that.” Ben’s voice softened. “Is she pretty, like you?”

  Natalie quirked her mouth sideways. “I guess. Slade and I look like our father. He’s handsome, like Slade. Or he was, when he was younger. I don’t know what he looks like now.”

  Ben carried his plate to the sink, rinsed it, and put it in the dishwasher. “Let’s go for a sail.”

  She stood next to him, looking out the window. “If we leave this house to go down to the beach together, your entire family will know where you spent the night.”

  Ben drew her against him with an easy hug. “I don’t think they’ll be too surprised.”

  22

  Morgan phoned Natalie and Bella first thing Monday morning.

  “Drinks here at five,” she told them. “Josh won’t be home until dark probably, and I’m going to have Felicity take Petey to her house to play so she won’t be able to hear anything we say.”

  The O’Keefes’ deck reflected, like the rest of their house, what they thought it should reflect: expense, striking lines, originality. The chairs were Lafuma, from Europe, tightly tailored, bright turquoise or cranberry mesh, with padded headrests and “integrated suspension.” A wrought iron table with matching chairs filled one corner of the deck, an umbrella opened over it for protection from the sun, and next to the various lounge chairs were heavy glass tables on wrought iron stands to hold drinks and munchies. Privately, Morgan thought she’d barf if she saw another potted geranium on a deck, which the Barnabys and even Natalie had set out. She had gone to a garden shop and bought a lemon tree, an orange tree, and various striped grasses planted in terra-cotta containers.

  “It’s like a little jungle here,” Bella remarked as she gently arranged her body in one of the contemporary lounge chairs.

  Morgan looked at the grasses. To say they had flourished would be modest. “I suppose I should cut them back, trim them, or whatever.”

  “They’re fabulous,” Natalie decreed. “And they provide a great screen. No one can see what’s going on up here.”

  “Oh, have you tried?” Morgan teased.

  “Why should I try?” Natalie shot back. “You’re an old married woman.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Morgan arched an eyebrow.

  “What?” Bella tried to sit up but only managed to slip around.

  Morgan looked pleased with herself. “Later. Right now I want to get the drinks. I’ll be right back.”

  Morgan stalked into her kitchen. She was barefoot, in shorts and a halter top, her long hair yanked high on her head, held with one long pin.

  It was still hot on the deck at five, but a summer breeze played over the water, swirling cooler air up around them. Flocks of clouds like white woolly lambs clustered and slowly rambled across the blue sky, and all around the lake, the trees and shrubbery were heavy, flush with summer green. It was a sated, verdant, satisfied time of year, everything juiced up on photosynthesis and plenty of rain, all the flowers so thick and rich they splayed their bright petals as if drunk on the sun.

  On the deck, waiting for her drink, Natalie removed her painting shirt and hung it over the back of her chair. She was in her black bikini—she’d run out in the middle of the day for a quick, refreshing dip in the lake. Not a real swim, though, just a playful paddle near the shore. Bella had changed out of work clothes into a tiny pink sundress with spaghetti straps. She kicked off her sandals and wiggled her toes.

  “I hope you worked today,” Bella told Natalie.

  “I certainly did,” Natalie answered smugly.

  Morgan returned, beaming. On a silver tray, she carried three very tall flutes filled with mouthwatering liquid.

  “Peach Bellinis,” she announced. “Made with Prosecco, which is light on the alcohol, so we won’t get hung over. Plus, think of all the vitamins in peach nectar.” She set a flute on each side table, adding a plate covered with salted almonds, stuffed olives, and wasabi peas.

  “Very nice,” Bella said, reaching for her drink.

  Morgan sank into her own recliner. For a moment the three women lay side by side looking out at the shimmering azure lake. Overhead, birds were beginning to wake from their hot afternoon siestas and sing their plans for the evening. Across the lake, a lawn mower hummed. The sun slanted down on their brown limbs.

  “Sunblock, anyone?” Morgan asked.

  “No thanks,” Natalie said. “I slathered myself before coming over.”

  “Me, too,” Bella said.

  “Okay, then.” Morgan lifted her glass. “Let’s toast. What shall we toast to? Bella’s?”

  “We did that Saturday night,” Bella said. “Let’s toast to friendship.”

  “To friendship!” They lifted their glasses but were too far apart to clink. They sipped. And sipped again.

  “So, Bella,” Natalie asked. “How was your first real day at the shop?”

  “Nothing like the opening, that’s for sure,” Bella told her. “No one came in until around eleven, and then, happily, it was some women who’d seen Penny’s jewelry. They each bought a piece.”

  “That’s great,” Morgan said, stretching her long legs on the lounge chair.

  “Yes,” Bella continued, “but then Shauna Webb came in with some more body parts.”

  “Sorry, Bella,” Natalie said. “I think Shauna’s stuff is kind of creepy.”

  “I know. I agree. Shauna was upset that no one bought anything of hers at the opening; plus, she brought in a box of other pieces she wanted me to add to what I’d put out.…” Bella took another sip of her drink. “I told her I didn’t want them.”

  “Uh-oh,” Natalie commiserated. She could guess what was coming.

  “Shauna flipped. She tried pointing out how unique her pieces are, and she tried getting mad at me, and she tried crying.… It was kind of awful, actually.”

  “How did you handle it?” Morgan asked.

  “I’m proud to report I was perfectly professional. I said I was sorry, but it was apparent to me that Bella’s wasn’t the right venue for her work.” Bella tilted her head. “I was quite rational. I didn’t insult her. I didn’t get upset when she insulted me.”

  “She insulted you?”

  Bella smiled. “She ca
lled me a reactionary, soulless, lowbrow opportunist and a leech who lives off the lifeblood of artists.”

  “Whoa!” Natalie cried.

  “Nice,” Morgan added.

  “I can understand. She needed to vent. She needed to save face. The good news is that she got so angry she insisted on taking everything out of the shop. She refused ever to set foot inside Bella’s again.”

  “Were you really as calm with her as you seem?” Natalie asked.

  “You know,” Bella announced, “I was. All my work with third graders came in handy.”

  “Good for you,” Morgan said.

  “Thanks. And this afternoon, Natalie, a woman came in with her husband. She’d been at the opening and loved your charcoals, and she wanted her husband to see them. They didn’t introduce themselves or buy anything, but they did stay for quite a while, studying the charcoals and talking about them. Are you drawing anything else?”

  Natalie smiled. “I’m drawing Ben.”

  “Really?” Bella was amazed. “Is that where he spent all day yesterday? I was at Aaron’s, but I talked to Mom and she said Ben didn’t come over.”

  “Natalie!” Morgan sat up in surprise, peered over Bella’s body to stare at Natalie. “You minx! Is something going on there?”

  At the same time, her voice chiming along with Morgan’s, Bella asked, “When will the drawing be ready for the gallery?”

  Natalie laughed. “Not for a few more days. He posed for me on Sunday, but he’s at the lab today, and you know your brother, he’ll be at the lab constantly, so I probably should start something else.”

  “How about a young woman?” Bella suggested.

  “Good idea,” Natalie agreed. She sipped her drink and stretched expansively. She’d been working today, actually; she’d taken some digital shots of Ben in the pose she’d chosen, and she’d played with the shading of the background. She was drawing him as a swimmer, arms extended, legs kicking, head turned sideways, face partly obscured by water. It was the biggest, longest work she’d attempted yet. Ben had been an excellent model, putting tension and strain in his muscles, as if actually racing. The final piece would have a sense of movement. “Bella,” Natalie asked, “would you like to pose?”

  Bella shook her head violently. “Absolutely not! How weird would that be, hanging a drawing of myself in my own shop?”

  “I see your point. But I could obscure your face.” Natalie grabbed up a handful of nuts and munched, thinking of the possibilities.

  “Besides,” Bella added sensibly, “when would I have time? I’ve got to be there six days a week.”

  “True,” Natalie agreed. The Bellini was relaxing her. The memory of her Saturday night sales still flowed through her like a heavenly drug, and the memory of Ben—oh, wow, that made her tingle and blush.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Morgan reminded Natalie. “About you and Ben.”

  “I’m drawing him,” Natalie answered evasively.

  “Yeah, and what else?” Morgan demanded.

  Natalie took a fortifying gulp of her Bellini. She felt the cold liquid sliding down right between her breasts. “I suppose you could say we’re seeing each other.”

  Bella sat up straight. “Oh. My. God. Are you and my brother lovers?”

  “That’s such a sappy word,” Natalie protested, but her face gave her away.

  “But what if Ben does something stupid?” Bella asked. “Ben can be so frustrating. He forgets to keep appointments. He forgets to eat. He—”

  Morgan interrupted. “Whatever Ben is like with you, he’s different with Natalie.”

  Natalie smiled smugly. “That’s correct.” She turned to Bella. “What about you and Aaron? I heard he got the job in San Francisco.”

  Bella’s face dropped. Settling back in her chair, she allowed herself a moment to think before admitting, “I really don’t know. We celebrated when he found out, and then he celebrated with me for the opening of Bella’s, and he really focused on what I had achieved. He knew I needed him to do that, so he did it. Now what? I really don’t know. Today he drove down to the Cape to talk with his parents and his brother. Then tomorrow night …” Bella paused. “And there’s something else—”

  “Wait. This calls for more drinks.” Morgan rose, went into the house for fresh, chilled Bellinis, returned, and poured. Sinking back down in her chair, she said, a tang of mischief in her voice, “I notice no one’s asked me about my love life.”

  “Your love life?” Natalie snorted. “You’re married.”

  “Wait.” Bella turned on her lounge chair toward Morgan. “We were talking about my love life.”

  “Sorry.” Morgan tossed some nuts into her mouth. “Proceed.”

  “It’s just that—I don’t know quite how to say this, or even what it is I want to say.…” In one quick word, Bella got it over with: “Slade.”

  Natalie groaned. “I knew this would happen.”

  “Slade what?” Morgan prompted.

  “Slade … You know he’s been so helpful with the shop. We’ve had such fun going antiquing together. We get along so well. He’s really been a kind of mentor, guiding me toward what sorts of things I should sell, but more than that, helping me discover what it is I like.”

  Natalie muttered, “I’ll bet.”

  “Bella.” Morgan set her glass on the table and sat up straight in the lounge chair. “Look, honey. I think Aaron is the best husband material I’ve ever seen in a man. He’s real. He’s reliable. He’s thoughtful. Slade is more—let’s call it glamorous.” She hesitated. “Remember, Slade was ‘really helpful’ to me, too.” She made quote marks with her fingers. “He suggested the Victorian settee for our living room, he sent me photos of it online, he brought it to the house.”

  “That’s his work,” Bella reminded Morgan. “Slade and I have something personal.”

  “Bella,” Natalie asked, “tell me. Have you slept with him yet?”

  At the same time, Morgan said, “Bella, Slade came on to me.”

  Bella blinked. “What?”

  Natalie sighed. “Oh God.”

  Morgan explained, “It was when he delivered the Victorian settee. The day we painted your shop. We left for a while in his van, remember? He’d brought it out from Ralston’s in Boston. He’d suggested it to sort of jazz up the ambience. So we carried it into the house. We sat down on it. To kind of test it, you know. It’s extremely soft and comfortable, the fabric is very expensive quilted silk—”

  “Forget the stupid settee!” Bella cried.

  Morgan hurriedly continued. “Hang on, this is relevant. We sat next to each other on the settee. I’m trying to remember this exactly as it happened. I think I said the silk was soft or something. Slade said, Just like your hair. He said my hair is silky. No. He said luxurious. He said the settee was luxurious, like me.”

  “What a tool,” Natalie muttered.

  “Go on,” Bella insisted.

  Morgan shifted her gaze away from Bella. “He touched my hair. He said my skin is like satin. He … he looked at me. He told me the settee was long enough for people to lie down on.” She paused, remembering. “We kissed. I’ll admit the kiss was my fault. I instigated it. Actually, I sort of jumped him … but you’ve got to understand, Josh and I have been like strangers lately. I don’t even know if we’ll stay married. He doesn’t seem to care for me anymore.”

  “Oh, honey,” Natalie cried, full of concern. “Of course he loves you! He’s writing a novel, and it’s almost ready for the agent, and then—”

  Morgan swung around so abruptly she knocked over her glass. Peach-tinted fluid spilled across the glass tabletop and dripped down onto the wooden deck.

  “Josh is writing a novel?”

  “Yes!” Natalie held out her hands. “Morgan, Josh loves you so much! He wants to complete the novel, and—”

  Morgan stood up, hands clenched at her sides. “Josh told you he’s writing a goddamned novel and he didn’t tell me?”

  “Wait
a minute!” Bella sprang out of the lounge chair and stood towering between them in all her five foot two quivering rage. “Morgan. Finish about you and Slade!”

  Morgan forced her attention back on Bella. “What? Me and Slade? There’s nothing else to say! We kissed, that’s all. We didn’t commit any kind of infidelity as serious as telling someone else a really, really HUGE secret!” Tears flooded her eyes.

  Bella wouldn’t let go of it. “Please. Morgan. This is important to me. Is that all you did? Kiss?”

  Morgan looked at her petite, optimistic friend, and with great effort, she wrenched her mind back to that moment with Slade, and not only to that moment, but to the significance of it, the reason she wanted to warn Bella. But she was also still fueled by her hurt, her anger at Josh and Natalie. “Oh, this is important to you? So I should forget Josh conspiring with Natalie?”

  Natalie sighed. “We hardly conspired. Morgan, I apologize. Let me explain.”

  But Morgan was speeding down some mental slide as if shoved, and emotional gravity was not about to let her stop. “Okay, Bella, here’s what happened. I kissed Slade. He did not push me away. He did not say, ‘Stop, Morgan, I love Bella.’ ”

  “Morgan,” Natalie interjected. “No need to be harsh.”

  “He pulled me down on top of him on the settee. Our bodies were all tangled up together. We kept kissing. He had a hard-on, I could feel it through his jeans. He said—not me, he was the one who said—the settee was not wide enough to have sex, and he wanted to go up to my bedroom. I was the one who put the brakes on.”

  Bella was pale.

  Seeing Bella’s shocked expression, Morgan hit the bottom of the slide, and it felt like slamming down into the water, feeling the impact of collision and her actions flying out to slap other people. Abruptly ashamed of herself, she cried, “Bella, listen, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I’m not trying to compete with you. I’m your friend. I care for you. I think Aaron is a great guy, a wonderful guy, who loves you truly, I can see it on his face every time he’s around you. What happened between me and Slade was nothing. Nothing to me, and nothing to Slade. But I can tell it means something to you, and you really should think about it before you make any life-changing decisions.”