Summer Beach Reads

by Thayer, Nancy

  Helen frowned. She and Grace had managed to divide the housework and cooking for thirty years. She couldn’t imagine why Grace was making such heavy going of it now. “I’ll do the house.” She put her coffee cup in the sink. “I’ll start in the living room.” She left the kitchen.

  The long front living room was littered with champagne flutes and teacups and bowls half filled with peanuts and crackers. Helen carried them into the kitchen, washed the flutes, emptied the snacks into plastic bags, set the teacups in the dishwasher. She dug the dust cloths out of the laundry room and went around the living room, dusting end tables, straightening chairs, plumping up sofa cushions. She shook out the draperies and opened the French doors and took the vacuum from under the stairs and dragged it over the various ancient thick Persian rugs. It was all very satisfying, putting things into place, so when she found the kitchen empty for a change, she quickly swept and mopped the flagstone floor.

  At some point, Grace came down, trailed by Worth, Kellogg, Douglas, and Claus, all businesslike in their suits and ties and briefcases. Helen said goodbye to them all and stood beneath the arbor, waving at them as they left in one of the SUVs. She returned to the kitchen to boil some eggs for egg salad and was chopping celery when Glorious came down.

  “Mrs. Nona’s sleeping,” Glorious said. She carried a basket piled with diapers and tiny little bits of clothing. “Oh, good, you’ve started lunch. And Grace said she’d go by the grocery store.”

  “Where are the little ones?” Helen called to Glorious as the other woman went into the laundry room.

  “They went out early, down to the beach—Mandy, Mellie, and the two children. Their father carried down the beach umbrellas. He took some beach chairs down, too.”

  “Have you heard any rustlings from Teddy?” Helen called.

  “Not a sound.”

  Glorious came into the kitchen with a basket of clean laundry in her arms. She stood at the end of the table, folding baby blankets and little boy’s T-shirts. “Do we know how many will be here for dinner tonight?”

  Helen set the eggs under cold running water and began to chop an onion. “Well, you and Nona, although she doesn’t eat much, and Grace, Mandy, Mellie, and the two children. And Charlotte, of course. And maybe Teddy or Suzette, but I don’t know their plans.”

  “You staying?”

  “I’m not sure if I’ll be here tonight or not. I had planned to fly back after I spent some time with Teddy and Suzette, but I thought they’d be up by now.”

  Glorious stacked the folded laundry in the basket. “I think I’ll just thaw a pan of lasagna. That will work for a few more or less.”

  “Good idea. I’ll make those oatmeal raisin cookies Mandy approves of for Christian.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Oh, Glorious, I can—”

  Glorious shook her glossy head. “No, no. You go on and take a rest. I heard you down here with the vacuum. I’ve just been sitting there listening to Nona snore. I need to move. And I love eating the raw dough,” she added, smirking.

  Helen hated to admit it, even to herself, especially to herself, but it had been a great relief when Glorious came to work for Nona. Glorious was cheerful, easygoing, and self-starting. Most of all, she was young. Years ago, Helen had been able to help Grace run the house and still find time and energy to enjoy herself, go for a little sail, lie in the sun with a beach read, play a game or two of tennis. But for the past few years, Helen found she needed a nap simply to refuel for the rest of the day. Grace did, too. They had always had a cleaning company come through the house once a week, and there had been a space of years when all their children were college age and off traveling through Europe or visiting friends. Then, entire weeks would pass by with only five or six people in the house needing meals prepared and laundry done and sunblock bought and messages taken. Those had been restful times, although not as much fun. When the summer house filled up again, with weddings and wedding parties and baby showers and babies, Helen and Grace had discovered they were older. They didn’t have as much stamina.

  Today, Helen felt especially ancient. She stirred mayonnaise and a sprinkling of curry powder into the egg salad, covered it with plastic wrap, and set it in the refrigerator.

  “I think I will take a nap. I didn’t sleep well last night. But listen, Glorious, will you tell Teddy to wake me when he gets up?”

  “Surely will.”

  Up on the sleeping porch, the air was warm and still. Helen lay down on the daybed and was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

  When she woke, it was after one. The sun fell in long rectangles across the wooden floor, and the air seemed to hum with light. She yawned. From the other end of the house, she heard a baby’s thin cry. Little Zoe must be awake from her nap as well. She heard a child’s high sweet voice raised in song and the plinking tones of a xylophone: Christian entertaining himself. The xylophone had been one of the Ms’ first toys, and Helen’s three children had played with it, too. Helen remembered sitting on a bedroom floor with Grace as their toddlers played together. Way back then, they’d worried that the little ones were too aggressive and would never learn to share. Grace had worried that Mee would never learn to talk. Helen had worried that Teddy would spend his life in casts—he was such a daredevil and so accident prone. And here they all were now, their children safely grown. Grace had grandchildren. And Helen might have a grandchild on the way.

  She sat up, ran her hands through her tangled hair, and stretched, then went to the window facing out over Nona’s hedged garden. Far in the distance on the rolling land was Charlotte’s garden. Helen couldn’t see her, but she knew her daughter was out there working.

  She wasn’t sure what she thought about Charlotte’s funny little plan to live her life as a farmer here on Nantucket Island. Grace had been right. Helen’s children were different. Charlotte digging in the dirt, Oliver gay and intelligent but completely without interest in the Wheelwright bank, and Teddy … well, Teddy. Wasn’t he awake yet?

  She went down the hall to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and made an attempt to comb her hair. She wouldn’t try to get back to Boston today. Why should she? Let Sweet Cakes fix dinner for Worth. Although Worth probably treated his paramour to dinners at expensive restaurants. Oh, God, what should she do?

  Helen found Teddy and Suzette in the kitchen, sitting at one end of the table, dunking cookies into cups of milk. Glorious was standing over the sink, scrubbing the cookie sheet. Both Teddy and Suzette wore the clothes they’d worn the day before. Actually, they looked like they’d slept in them. A twist of maternal irritation tightened beneath Helen’s rib cage.

  Still, she tried to be upbeat. “Good morning, lazybones!” She pecked a kiss on top of Teddy’s head and put a hand, gently, just for a moment, on Suzette’s shoulder.

  Suzette didn’t respond, and Teddy just mumbled something around a mouthful of soggy food. Please, could they be more childish!

  “I hope you ate some real food before you started filling up on cookies,” Helen said. She went to the sink and filled a glass of water.

  Another mumble from Teddy.

  Glorious was drying off the cookie sheet. “Honey, those cookies are oatmeal and raisins. Let’s pretend it’s breakfast.”

  But Helen couldn’t let it go. “A growing baby needs protein.”

  “Milk’s protein,” Teddy said.

  “At last! He speaks!” Helen sat down across from her son.

  “I’ll be taking a little rest now,” Glorious said, and left the room.

  It was very quiet in the kitchen. The faucet dripped into the sink: plink, plink.

  “Your father’s gone back to Boston,” Helen said. “So have your Uncle Kellogg and Claus and Douglas. And I think Mee might have gone back while I was resting.”

  “So it looks like I’m the man of the house.” Teddy wiped cookie milk off his upper lip.

  “Well, yes, you and Christian.”

  Teddy laughed. “Well
played, Mom.”

  Helen crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward. “Teddy, let’s talk a bit, okay?”

  Teddy pretended innocent confusion. “I thought we were. Talking.”

  “What are your plans?”

  “Plans? Who says we need plans?” His tone was arch and teasing.

  “I do!” Record time, one part of Helen’s mind noted, between Teddy’s first word and her first blastoff. “Teddy, your wife is going to have a baby. Has she had prenatal checkups? Ultrasound? Is she taking vitamins? Where will she have the baby, in a hospital or by the side of the road? Does she have a personal physician? And what about you? How are you going to support a child? Babies take a lot of care and a lot of paraphernalia!” Teddy opened his mouth to speak but Helen held out her hand, forestalling him. “And please don’t give me your holier-than-thou speech about the evils of materialism. Your baby can’t ride in a car in this state unless it’s in a car seat. It’s Massachusetts law. Your baby will need diapers and clothing and a bouncy seat and medical care. Babies need to have drops put in their eyes when they’re born, did you know that? And you and Suzette could both use at least one change of clothing, judging by what you wore yesterday and what you’re wearing today. And—”

  Teddy held his hands up in surrender. “All right, Mom, I get it. Listen, I thought Suzette and I would stay here for the summer.”

  Helen was speechless.

  “What’s the big deal? I’ve always stayed here in the summer. Nona has plenty of room.”

  Helen nodded. She took a sip of water, just to give herself a few seconds to recover. “That’s fine,” she told him. “That’s good, really. It’s just that we hadn’t seen you for a year, or heard much from you, so this is a surprise. So … Suzette, when is your baby due?”

  “September,” Suzette mumbled.

  “So you’ll have the baby here. On the island.”

  “Is that a problem for you?” Teddy’s voice took on a defensive tone.

  “Not at all,” Helen hastened to assure him. She turned toward Suzette. “We’ve got a great hospital here. A good obstetrician and several good midwives, if that’s the way you want to go. And I’m sure the attic is crammed with baby stuff. We might even have a few maternity dresses somewhere. Oh, this is exciting! I’ll have to make a list.” Caught up in a more optimistic mood, Helen turned back to Teddy. “And you. You need to get a job.”

  Teddy moaned. “Oh, brother, here it comes.”

  “Teddy. You’re twenty-two. You’re about to become a father. Unless you have some money stashed away which I know nothing about, you’re going to have to buckle down and grow up and get a job like everyone else.”

  Teddy squirmed. “I won’t work in the bank.”

  Helen snorted, exasperated. “Did I mention the bank?” She looked at Suzette. “I don’t know how much your husband has told you about his remorselessly evil family, but most of the men related to Teddy work in a Boston bank that Teddy’s great-great-grandfather started in the eighteen hundreds. Worth and I had hoped Teddy might work there. Frankly, Worth would love it if one of his children carried on his work, and if you went to Boston you could stay in our house and save money. In case you want to buy—oh, say a car. Or a house, with a yard, for your baby.”

  “It’s not going to work, Mom,” Teddy said, his face dark.

  “What’s not going to work?”

  “You’re not going to convince Suzette that I should work in the bank.”

  “Fine. You still need to get a job.”

  “Or what? Or we can’t stay here this summer?” Teddy stood up so abruptly his chair rocked. “Do you need me to contribute funds because otherwise there won’t be enough money to feed us all? Look at this place! There’s probably enough food stashed in the pantry to keep us all from starvation for months!”

  “Teddy, it’s not about that. It’s about your self-esteem—”

  “Which is fine!” Teddy paced the length of the kitchen, looking terribly young in his stupid yellow martini-glass shirt. Everyone had always said that Teddy combined his parents’ physical attributes. His dark-blond hair curled tightly like Helen’s, and when he ran his hand through it in exasperation, it recoiled right back into place.

  Softly, Helen said, “It’s about growing up. Teddy, you have to grow up.”

  “I am grown up,” Teddy protested. “You just don’t get it, Mom. You think you’re so wildly different from Dad and Aunt Grace—”

  Stunned by Teddy’s insight, and hot with guilt because she secretly did think that, Helen said, “I never said—”

  “Oh, you’ve always been the champion of the underdog, the rebel; how can you think I haven’t noticed? But you see, you think of me as an underdog, a rebel, because you’re just as brainwashed as the rest of them. You really believe, in your heart, there is only one way to be!”

  “Teddy! I don’t!” They had argued before, a hundred times, a thousand times, with as much heat and anger, but all this was new and it cut deep.

  “And you know why? You want to believe there’s only one way to be, because you are so stuck in your life. You never ever got to spread your wings and fly.”

  Helen stared at her youngest child, her beautiful son. “My children were my wings, Teddy,” she said. “My children were my flight.”

  “Were.” Teddy tossed his head.

  “Are,” she corrected herself. She looked over at Suzette, who had stopped dunking cookies to stare at Teddy and Helen, her mouth hanging open. Her bare belly protruded, the little belly button sticking out like the tied-off end of a balloon. “When you have your baby, Teddy, you’ll see what I mean.”

  Suzette awkwardly shuffled her body around in her chair, so she could face Teddy, and gave him a look. Helen couldn’t see Suzette’s face, so she didn’t know what Suzette meant to convey, but after a few minutes Teddy shrugged and, with one of his easy smiles, relented. “Fine. I’ll get a job.”

  Family Meeting

  Fourteen

  Two weeks after her birthday, Nona lay on her chaise in the garden. It was unusually hot for this early in July but Nona welcomed the heat and relished these few moments of solitude. Tomorrow was Family Meeting. The house would be full again, the air trembling with the strong emotions and real or imagined wounds and desires and disagreements of her family.

  The birdbath, with its recirculating water fountain, made a pleasingly musical trickling sound and, if she kept very still, all sorts of birds, not only the bold mourning doves, lighted there to give themselves vigorous baths, splashing water up under their wings, glancing around to be sure they were safe, and then dunking their heads right down into the water. At the far end of the garden, shaded by the wall of hedge, a pair of robins pecked in the alyssum bed. Nearby, a catbird called. Nona called back, “Hello, pretty fellow.” Catbirds were friendly, and she’d always thought they were quite dapper, with their neat black and gray plumage.

  “Hello?” The sound was scarcely more than a whisper.

  Nona looked up. Suzette loomed next to her, as swollen as a ship under sail. Gradually, over the past ten days, Suzette had become a bit less shy. She’d pretty much kept to her room right after Nona’s birthday party, but Nona didn’t blame her for that. She’d kept to her room, too. So much folderol was exhausting. And poor Suzette had been just thrown to the lions by Teddy’s showing up with her like that, without any warning or explanation.

  “Hello, dear.” Nona nodded toward a wicker rocking chair. “Sit down. It’s nice here in the sun. How do you feel?”

  “Icky” Suzette lowered her bulk into the chair. She wore a pretty swirly skirt and a T-shirt, and her rounded belly protruded in all its naked glory into the sun. “I can’t get a good night’s sleep. The baby kicks.”

  Nona laughed softly. “I remember those days. I was sure Grace was going to be either a ballerina or a quarterback. And the head wedges up against your lungs so you can’t get a deep breath.”

  Suzette extracted a fingernail file fro
m her pocket and began to shape her nails. Nona found the little grating sound—well, grating. “How’s Teddy?”

  Suzette’s chin jutted out as she asserted stoutly, “He’s gone to AA every day.”

  “And has he found a job?”

  Suzette scratched away even faster. “He’s looking.”

  “From the little I’ve seen of him, I gather he’s been playing a bit of tennis. And sailing.”

  Loyally, Suzette insisted, “He’s networking. Teddy thinks he might meet an old buddy who could steer him toward a decent job.”

  “Has he checked the classified ads in the newspapers?”

  Suzette poked at her belly button with the nail file. “I guess. But the jobs are all for dishwashers and stuff.”

  “I see.” Nona wanted to be careful here. Suzette was about as skittish as the birds in the birdbath. At the slightest hint of criticism, she vanished, whisking her pregnant self back upstairs to hide away in the attic bedroom she shared with Teddy or to find refuge in the den, paralyzed in front of the television set. “The problem is that any job available now on the island is bound to be pretty much a summer job. Is that what Teddy’s looking for?” Nona didn’t want to pry, but she as well as the rest of the family were curious about just how long Teddy planned to stay here and what his long-term plans were.

  “Teddy’s smarter than most people think,” Suzette said. “Just because he didn’t finish college—”

  “Oh, I understand that.” Shifting on her chaise, Nona turned to face Suzette. “And believe me, I have no intention of pressuring him to work in the bank.”

  “I know.” Suzette smiled shyly at Nona. “You’re nice to him.”

  This was as friendly as the girl had been since she arrived. Nona settled back. “I wonder, what sort of work would Teddy like to do?”

  “He says—”

  “Good morning, Nona!” Mellie waddled out into the garden, hands supporting her back, which was curved like the moon with her pregnancy.