“Liking it how, exactly?”
“Nothing happened, but I started wondering, how much can I lead him on? Fuck with his head? And then just ignore him?” She shook her head. “But it was getting messy.”
“How messy?” Katie asked. “And Kona would be dead if Jake ever . . .”
“Just a little too much caressing my legs, a few close calls in his Jeep when he got me alone for a paddleboard lesson. The sexual tension was at a level that wasn’t right if I want to call myself loyal to Jake.”
“Okay, I get that.”
“And you know what? Kona is a really good guy, and he’s much less mature than Luke, less formed. It wasn’t nice to lead him on either, even if I simply meant to give him a taste of his own medicine. Anyway, I love Jake. He flirts but he doesn’t touch. Jake’s a baby deep down, and I just know he wouldn’t stray. Women are more layered than men, right? More nuanced, like your monotone, bleached-out apartment is about to be when I get done with it.”
As they climbed up the dune closer to the lot, the twosome found Poppy Porter and Luke Forrester standing side by side.
“What a pair they make,” noticed Julia.
“They’ve been hanging out,” explained Katie. “He goes and has a cocktail with her once or twice a week after school. He doesn’t even drink much, but he pretends to sip one anyway.”
“That’s really nice to hear.”
“It is. He’s trying to understand all about the family history, about his father by blood.”
“Well, she lost one son, and found another.”
“Luke is her stepson; she was married to his father,” Katie corrected. “But I’m sure that counts to go on for hours about his whaling ancestors!”
“With Luke’s integrity and all that, it is the son she never had. You know that, Katie. Looks like they have to talk to you. I’ll meet you later at your apartment.” Julia waved.
“Poppy and I have been meeting for a long time today,” Luke said, pulling Katie to his side. “We came to look out at our favorite view, and tell you about some things.”
“You both are talking a lot these days.”
“Well, dear,” Poppy answered. “We’re family now. I figure with all these modern arrangements I hear about, I might as well have one of my own.”
Katie studied this November odd couple: Luke and his constant stubble, those deep brown eyes luminous with the sea before him, a loose sweatshirt and a New York Mets cap holding down his unkempt hair. And Poppy, a kaleidoscope of fall colors: a bright red scarf tying her orange hat under her chin, ochre yellow pants tucked into sensible boots, her full middle section covered in a green windbreaker jacket. She looked like a human pile of autumn leaves.
Poppy started right in. “We have such a nice morning together, and you know I always believe in gratitude in life for what we do have. It would have been nice of George Sr. to inform me that Bucky wasn’t his only son. But I’ll just have to make up for lost time with my Luke, who, by the way, makes an excellent Pink Lady drink now.”
“Really?”
Poppy smiled proudly. “He won’t join us for bridge, but he will meet me for my 3:00 p.m. drink. Luke’s a good man, someone I respect in a way I didn’t fully respect my own family, if you want me to be honest.” Poppy paused, looking for the elegant way to say the obvious. She crossed her arms over that plentiful bosom. “Both George Sr. and George Jr.’s choices were, well, just, off the reservation, and a lot of people suffered for that.”
Just then, Frank Forrester’s pickup drove by. He honked from the lot, an Eagles song streaming loudly out his window. He slowed and tapped his baseball hat at the group, smiling brighter than he usually did.
“Hey, Poppy! Sunset’s at 4:38 tonight, and I don’t like to be late!”
“Handsome fellow,” Poppy remarked, waving back. “That Frank. I like a man who respects schedules.”
Katie shot Luke a look. Frank and Poppy?
He nodded and now crossed his own arms.
“You and Frank both have been . . .” Katie asked, “visiting with Poppy? You didn’t tell me that!”
“He wanted to hear the stories,” Luke explained. “I’ll always call him my real dad, but he was curious about my blood relatives, too. So I told him he could come listen. He believes my love of the sea came from the whaling history in my ancestors.”
“And what was that sunset reference?” asked Katie.
“Yeah, what was that?” Luke agreed, staring Poppy down. “What did that mean?”
“He’s a good man too, like the man he raised here. He’s got a nice way about him.” Poppy smiled and kicked a small pebble with her boot. “Frank took me out.”
“No!” both Luke and Katie said together.
“Twice, to his favorite lobster shack in Montauk. He likes to get there way before sunset because they have tables by the window. We have an early dinner at five or so after a drink. Turns out we both like to listen to bluegrass, not that I knew what it was before he introduced me!”
“This is just too strange,” Katie said. “Frank is so, well, set in his ways, and you are, I guess, you’re alike that way. He’s in thick work pants and a utility vest, while you’re in your own colored uniform. But I guess it’s not as far off as I might think?”
“Stranger things have happened,” Poppy answered, smiling warmly. “Who knows, we’re just starting a friendship here. But, we do share a stepson in Luke. I’ve been looking for a solid man for fifteen years now. Frank’s been looking for a stable woman, he’s . . . well, I like a man with a strong sense of honor, and devotion to his family. I fear he’s not very clubby, though.”
“Not a country club guy for sure, Poppy. I told you that before I introduced him,” Luke said. “Very different from those types.”
“You know what? He’s not that different from the old guard of the club. They’re all just people who want to help the town and are understated about everything they do. He’s a discreet, kind man, just trying to do the right thing.” Poppy laughed and tightened her scarf against the chill. “I will say that I’m not exactly used to riding around town in a pickup truck. But, I’ve learned to adapt to changing tides all my life, so I’m good. And he’s adjusting just fine to the crab salad at the club.”
“Really, Poppy? You brought him to the Seabrook, too? You only said you both went twice to Montauk.” Luke looked at Katie suspiciously. “How many times exactly have you both been out together?”
“Well, maybe it’s been five or six times we’ve seen each other,” she answered, uncrossing her arms, and placing them on her hips defensively. “Okay, fine. Yes, I did take Frank to my club, too. Several times on his lunch break. He doesn’t like the Seabrook food, but he’s a gentleman and tries to please me and pretend. He says that’s what Tabasco sauce is for!”
“I can see that perfectly.” Luke laughed.
“Henry Walker saves a bottle for him behind the bar. And I can tell, that Henry approves, and that means a lot to me. Henry understands gentlemanly class better than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“So you’re going to keep having meals, as friends?” Katie asked.
“Who knows, child?” Poppy continued, “I’m grateful someone is interested in my stories! Frank’s a builder by trade, fascinated with boats, how they were made, how they tracked the whales off Montauk. So you can imagine with the harpoons and all, once I get going about the voyage on the Essex that slammed into the rocks, you remember? Where they had to survive in the smaller rowboats for days and . . .”
“We remember.” Luke patted her shoulder.
“Anyway, this morning, I told Luke of some plans I have.”
“What kind of plans?” asked Katie, curious where the matriarch might be going with this.
“Don’t look at me like that, Katie,” Poppy admonished.
“Like what?” Visions of a wedding with Luke on a pink-and-green patio flew through her mind.
“Like I’m making those kinds of plans.”
K
atie laughed nervously. “I just meant cool down, please.”
“Just passing things on properly, with both Georges gone,” Poppy explained. “The second cottage is, as of yesterday, bequeathed to Luke in the trust which I control. It’s up to Luke how he wants to handle that property . . . I just informed him this morning. Bucky won’t be getting anywhere near it, though apparently he was trying in ways I didn’t even know about, turns out he had a lawyer.”
“Did Bucky know about Luke?” Katie asked Poppy.
“Well, he’d been talking to a lawyer a lot. And, I told that lawyer, an old friend of George Sr.’s, that he should never have taken Bucky’s call. I held the titles to all, but, of course, men will be men. They like to be in charge, and they did talk a bit about who owned what house.” Poppy shook her head.
“Poppy can’t confirm if Bucky knew about me for sure,” Luke cut in, “but, I’m thinking yes. That’s my gut. I’m thinking he couldn’t ever face me in person. He always turned his back and talked to Kona. George Sr. must have told him. And, maybe, he just wanted me out of the picture, wanted to erase me out like an old chalkboard.”
Katie grabbed Luke’s arm. “Well, that didn’t work,” she said.
“So I went into town,” explained Poppy, “and transferred the title of the Willow Lane cottage entirely and solely to Luke.”
“And I told Poppy this morning, that I can’t keep 37 Willow Lane,” Luke answered, his voice a little stilted. The recent whiplash of never knowing his birth father, nor that he even had a half brother plastered all over his face. “Who knows if even George Sr. would have wanted me to have it?”
“I told you, young man. Stop that now!” Poppy instructed her newfound son. Katie was surprised with the harsh discipline she laid out. “My husband left all the financial decisions of his family trust to me. A woman is fully capable of making these decisions.”
“Whoa, Poppy,” Luke backtracked. “I didn’t mean the woman thing, I just meant my blood father wasn’t exactly involved in my life. He was trying to hide me. And besides, the cottage belongs to his family and I was just offering that possibility that . . .”
“You. Are. My. Family,” Poppy answered, hurt.
Katie rubbed Poppy’s shoulder, feeling protective of this woman who’d been on her side since she’d left a bucket of bing cherries on the doorstep.
“I appreciate it,” Luke said kindly. “The moment I heard, I told you I’m going to stick with my first gut instinct, Poppy. I want the cottage out of the picture fast. I’m going to sell it, and split the proceeds all up. Give some of it for education needs to the shelter, the kids who need it, because they are part of all our story here. A chunk to me for a bit of future cushion, for the family I will create. A little for Huck’s education, just to say, I care about that child, and I want him to know I’m here for him. And, finally, a little to Henry Walker’s grandchildren who also could use a little education safety net. He had a role in this story, too.”
“You don’t have to,” Katie answered. “I’m in charge of my son, it’s not your duty.”
Luke grabbed both her ears and kissed her forehead. “I know. But it doesn’t hurt to feel safe. And that’s what I want for you. With both of our mothers now out there in those waves, who knows? Maybe they’re plotting and planning for us to be together, to feel secure in this crazy, modern world.”
Poppy patted Katie’s hand.
“Take it, honey, it’s not much. Huck is a smart child, but he’ll still need the best teaching he can get in his life. Save it for his future. Accepting a little something from Luke is just a team thing. Better to live life as a team.”
“We might be doing that,” Luke said. “She’s hard to nail down with her work and Huck. But, once in a while, she gives me time to convince her that’s all I’m after.”
“I’m still settling here, there’s so much . . .”
“I know, I know about it. Take your time, I’m patient.” Luke put his arm around her tightly.
Then Poppy placed both of their hands together and nodded, her huge, orange hat flopping like a giant stingray in the cold sea breeze. “Think about that team, honey,” she said. “Don’t resist too much. I know some things in my old age. I’m watching out for both of you. You have a real, live third mother you can share in me. I’m watching out for both of you. I know it’s a strange way to get one, but consider me family.”
“Yes, we do make a good team.” Katie laughed assuredly, knowing this unusual trio might become a new Eastern family she could count on. And suddenly, with the churning waves, the cold, salty air turning her cheeks red, and the wind whipping her ponytail around like a propeller, Katie felt grounded, and very much at home.
Reading Group Guide
At the Seabrook Club, many members are from families that have been “summering” in the Hamptons for generations. The tradition of civic duty to the club remains strong, yet it is very insular. Do you think the Seabrook Club is ultimately a force for good or does it simply churn out entitled people who are programmed to get around the rules?
On Katie’s second night in the Hamptons, she begins a flirtation with Luke, even though she’s there on the invitation of George. Do you think she’s cheating? If so, why? If not, do you think she owes George anything?
Appearances say one thing, words serve to convince us further. How can people who are looking for love avoid deception? Isn’t it especially hard to decipher if someone is indeed the right partner when all feels romantic, and the pieces fall nicely into place? Do we need to take a bite of the apple to test if it’s right as Katie does with George?
From the beginning, Poppy is on Katie’s side as a fellow strong, independent-minded woman. Poppy’s wistful remembrances of her peers from the first wave of feminism seem to clash with the women Katie is meeting in the Hamptons. Do you think women from the 1960s and the 2000s are all that different? What about women who live in communities like the Hamptons? Are there things we all have in common, regardless of place or era? If you consider all the anxieties that plague a modern, single, working mom . . . how much weight should be placed on these three pillars of her life: raising a competent, value-driven child, professional success and sound work decisions, and her love life?
Female characters in literature and film often have to be “likable” according to Hollywood standards. This often means doing the right thing in most situations, behaving sexually in a way that is somewhat “expected,” and having priorities balanced. Look at literature and film and think about examples of married women who cheat and what happens to them. Do audiences give women a break or are they judgmental? Katie is working hard to make the right decisions, but is, as her friend Ashley says, “intrepid and insecure” at the same time. Do you believe that female characters have a certain bar to meet in terms of appropriate, “likable” behavior?
Social media and the Internet in general have sexualized the life of teenagers. Sixteen-year-old Alexa Chase has had everything served to her on a platter since she was born. Is she is some ways a “normal” kid who isn’t able to judge when she is going too far? Would her behavior and decisions occur in a teen in a completely different community, or from a middle-of-the road background?
The sea and the salt water play an important role in this novel. The ocean heals, it protects, it gives joy and salvation, and it holds those dear to us. How does the ocean, and dipping into it, affect you?
Jake Chase is a “new money,” self-made titan who put himself through school driving a laundry truck. He’s gotten much of what he wants in life by engineering it himself. Does any of that forgive the way he treats people? Is he despicable or kind of lovable in his need for constant acceptance?
The local community of the Hamptons relies on the wealthy summer invaders for their income. The surf community lures the summer people into their idyllic, simple word of pleasure and cool. When people of completely different classes start to mingle, what are the obstacles? Is it fair to say that both sides are posing, pos
turing, and using each other in this novel?
There are several twists and turns in this novel. How much of the ending did you see coming? What was obvious all along, what were the factors that kept you guessing? Who in your reading group predicted what and how early?
Acknowledgments
I have been a journalist for twenty years and work tirelessly to make every fact in my writing truthful, even in fiction. The details of how the old money stalwarts, the new money arrivals, and the rooted local community swirl around the Hamptons are as accurate as I know how to present them. No matter how out-of-this-world the scenes may appear to you the reader, I’ve seen pretty much all of them with my own eyes. Many people living amidst these three worlds discreetly answered questions to help me fine-tune scenarios and I am grateful to all of them. My love of the sea prompted me to immerse myself in the community that navigates the currents better than anyone—those who battle it every day. A group of surfers and watersports aficionados to whom I dedicated this book has become a second family to my own.
Thank you to my William Morrow publishers Jennifer Hart and Liate Stehlik for believing in the book, and to my editor, Tessa Woodward: your discreet yet forceful way of communicating makes for an elegant, pitch-perfect editor. Julia Meltzer in production editorial kept the book moving, Elle Keck handled all logistics and is herself a strong editor; to Becky Sweren and David Kuhn for helping to launch this book, and to Kaitlyn Kennedy for doggedly spreading the word along with Molly Waxman. Thanks to Grant Ginder who laughed me through a big edit.
To those of you who had the patience and generosity to purview early versions or sections, I am always grateful for your wise feedback: Lynne Greenberg, Juju Chang, Andrea Wong, Leslie Bennetts, Heather Vincent, Liz Smith (at age ninety-four, more eagle-eyed than a copy editor), Kathy O’Hearn, Ebs Burnough, Holly Parmelee, Carol Margaritis, Amy Cappellazzo, Darren Walker, Ashley McDermott, Alexandra Wolfe, Neal Shapiro, Perri Peltz, David Saltzman, Karen Lawson, Peter Manning, Electra Toub, Ali Wentworth, Kyle Gibson, and Joel Schumacher. Jay and Alice Peterson always generously talk me through the process of writing. Thank you to Dr. Dominick Auciello for learning support data, to Will Zeckendorf for windsurfing know-how, and to Xander, Beau, and Drew Peterson for automobile fact-checking (though my cars here were pretty on target in the first place…just saying). Thank you to my brothers Jim and David and Michael Peterson for authentic lingo of your astoundingly unathletic sport of golf.
It Happens in the Hamptons Page 32