The Book of Summer
Page 36
“Here you go, my darling,” he said, fingers clammy against the back of her neck.
“Thank you,” Ruby whispered.
When he stepped away, Ruby felt for the clasp to make sure it was secure.
“Well,” she said, chipper as sunshine. Ruby reached toward her husband. “Shall we?”
Sam nodded.
“We shall.”
They locked fingers and exchanged wistful smiles, looks of love and appreciation, of shared history and pain. After sucking back all the bad, they walked downstairs to welcome their guests to the biggest party Cliff House had ever seen.
66
Island ACKtion
MUDSLIDE ON SANKATY BLUFF
June 7, 2013
Mother Nature’s been no friend to the efforts of the Sankaty Bluff Preservation Fund. Though town selectmen okayed the geotube project, Sconset residents are wondering if it might be too late.
Never mind the storms of the past year, over the last three weeks the bluff has endured a dangerous combination of near-constant light rain and a barrage of heavy winds. Yesterday a major portion of the cliff conceded the fight. At around five o’clock in the evening, a mudslide began. The bluff lost over seven feet.
There are still homes to save and miles of shore to protect. But the woman who’s been the face of this fight is waving her flag. It’s hard to imagine but the fact is this. Cissy Codman’s Cliff House will come down.
* * *
ABOUT ME:
Corkie Tarbox, lifelong Nantucketer, steadfast flibbertigibbet. Married with one ankle-biter. Views expressed on the Island ACKtion blog (Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, et al.) are hers alone. Usually.
* * *
67
June 2013
Cliff House is gone.
Most of it anyway, the parts that matter. Bess and Cissy stand on the drive, holding on to each other, as bulldozers scrape away the last bits of their home. Some of it will remain. Hunks of foundation. Plumbing and wires. Leftover bricks from the now-demolished patio. They’ll do their best but the machines won’t tempt or tease the bluff’s edge, so they can’t remove it all.
“I still don’t believe it,” Cissy says again and again.
Her eyes are glassy but she’s past crying, having achieved that near-peaceful state that follows a hard sob.
“I really can’t believe it. My mother would hate this.”
Bess doesn’t say anything, because Grandma Ruby would hate this but what more can Cissy do? She’s already done everything—every last little thing. Bess is beginning to understand the unspoken expectations placed on Cissy, being the only child in a troubled home.
“Grandma would be proud of you,” Bess says, as this is also true. “For fighting so hard. No one could say you didn’t try.”
“I tried all right.”
“Good thing I came to the rescue,” Bess says jokingly. “Because if not for me, you’d still be trying. You’d still be in that house instead of moving on.”
“Is that right?” Cissy says archly. “Frankly, I think you needed to see the house before you could move on.”
Bess rolls her eyes, though Cissy has a point.
Her mother smiles wistfully as she squints toward the sea. It’s dazzling outside, the sun high and bright. Twenty-five years ago, on a day like this, they would’ve been clambering about the kitchen, pulling together food and tanning oil and hats. It’d take a full sixty minutes for someone to wrangle toddler Lala, who would no doubt be sitting buck-ass naked on a couch.
“For the love of Pete,” Grandma Ruby might’ve said. “Has anyone thought to teach that child the benefit of pants?”
Together they’d march across the wide lawn, over the public walking path, and down their private stairs to the beach below. They’d spread out blankets and set up their chairs. Passersby would smile at the pretty family from the big old house.
“Well, Mom,” Bess says at last, scowling at the spot where the kitchen once stood.
Cissy looks at her.
“I love when you call me Mom,” she says. “It’s quaint. Old-fashioned.”
Suddenly Bess’s frown loosens. She shifts her face halfway to a smile.
“Oh, Mom,” she says, and sighs. “Mom. Mom. Mom. The best one there is. We should get you back to Tea Time. Clay and Lala will be there by now.”
“And Sarah,” Cissy says, grinning, as she thinks of her new grandchild, only a week old.
“And Sarah,” Bess agrees.
“Plus you have a flight to catch.”
Bess glances toward the truck behind them, which holds her luggage in its bed. The very idea of San Francisco is unthinkable. It feels like she’s been gone a century. Will she even remember the route to her new apartment? Does she live on the second floor or on the third?
As they walk toward the truck, arms still around each other, they see Chappy and Evan hop out of the cab as if they’re ushers prepared to shepherd them on.
“We’re ready,” Cissy says. “No need to get out.”
“Hey.” Chappy takes her hand. “Come here.”
He escorts Cissy away from Bess and Evan.
“I want to say good-bye, too,” Bess hears him say.
Chappy and her mother walk to the edge of the cliff. Bess can’t hear their words but detects that labored breathing that accompanies a rush of tears. Maybe Cissy isn’t done with the crying after all.
“What’s the plan?” Evan asks, pressing his mouth into a hard line. “Airport first?”
His own eyes water.
“That makes the most sense,” Bess says. “Since it’s on the way. I appreciate the ride.”
“Bess, don’t even…”
“Especially since my other option is Cissy and her bike,” Bess tries to joke.
Evan looks at her.
“No matter what,” he says, “I’ll come get you. Any time. All you have to do is call and I’ll be right there.”
Bess understands he’s not referring only to the airport.
“You’re going to be completely annoyed by how much I take you up on that,” she says, and means it.
“I’ll count on it.”
“You know I love you, right?” Bess asks.
“I know.”
“And you know that I have to leave,” she says. “I don’t want to but it’s not really a choice. Not right now.”
“I know.”
“There are things I have to take care of. Real-world stuff. I can’t just…”
“I know.”
“But I’ll find my way back. Somehow, in some way that will be more than it was before.”
He doesn’t answer. I know, he’s said. Does he know? He doesn’t. But he hopes.
“All right, you two,” Chappy calls, tramping back toward the car, Cissy trailing after him. “Bess and Cissy, you gals need a final picture at the old homestead.”
“Some homestead,” Cissy says, trying to catch her breath.
Chappy holds up his phone.
“Let’s do this,” he says. “You’ll hate yourself if you don’t.”
“Do you even know how to work that?” Evan asks.
“It’s a damned phone, not a nuclear code. Cissy. Bess. Get together. One last photo taken at the head of Sankaty Bluff.”
The women trade looks and shrug. Why not?
Cissy and Bess sock in together and unleash their biggest smiles as the wind whips up the sand and shells around them. In between takes they comment on the weather. It’s a glorious afternoon, they agree. Finally and at last. Mark it in the Book of Summer: the first clear day.
Author’s Note
This book is based on the real-life erosion of the Sankaty Bluff in Siasconset (known as Sconset), the easternmost spot on Nantucket Island. I’ve tried to stick closely to the facts and complexities of the erosion problem, and even the weather that’s caused it, but as this is a work of fiction, I’ve tinkered with timelines and details for the sake of plot.
I first learned of the problem f
rom an article in Vanity Fair about the gorgeous, grand homes, many passed down between generations, now falling into the sea. Though Cliff House bears the fictitious address of 101 Baxter Road, it is very loosely based on Bluff House, formerly located at 87 Baxter Road. In my mind, Cliff House is an amplified amalgam of Bluff House and the property located (for now) at number 93. These homes, real and imagined, sit high up on the Sankaty Bluff, yards away from the iconic Sankaty Head Lighthouse, which itself had to be moved owing to the faltering cliffside. Like Cissy Codman, several owners evaluated the possibility of moving their homes before finally succumbing to the inevitable.
As in the book, Sankaty lost over thirty feet of bluff during the 2012–13 winter storms. Town officials considered closing Baxter Road for good, until lawyers pointed out that they couldn’t simply shut down roads or the utilities running along them. Geotubes, like the ones Cissy Codman fought so hard for, were installed in late 2013, after the Siasconset Beach Preservation Fund (SBPF), fictionalized here as the Sankaty Bluff Preservation Fund, finally gained approval from the Massachusetts Department of Environmental Protection.
These geotubes, large, sand-filled jute bags that look like burritos (as described by Evan Mayhew), are meant to keep the existing bluff intact. They are used in conjunction with a sand-replenishment program to prevent harm to neighboring beaches. According to the SBPF, as of late 2015, the time of this writing, no further erosion has occurred, thanks to these measures. The tubes currently cover about 900 feet of bluff, whereas the SBPF hopes to address the estimated 3,400 feet that are at risk.
You can learn more about the erosion, and what folks are doing to combat it, from the fund’s Web site at www.sconsetbeach.org. Of course, as with all prickly topics, not everyone agrees that the geotubes have performed as promised. Those who oppose such measures say that the geotubes won’t halt erosion and will instead siphon sand from the neighboring beaches and ultimately the entire island.
Van Lieu Photography has documented the erosion in memorable and evocative detail at www.vanlieuphotography.com and www.nantucketerosion.com. I’ve included my own (amateur) photographs on my Web site at www.michellegable.com and on Pinterest at www.pinterest.com/mgablewriter/bookofsummer. I’ll leave the reader to decide which side he or she is on.
Acknowledgments
The idea for this book began with an article in Vanity Fair: “Coast to Toast” by Vanessa Grigoriadis. So, first and foremost, I want to thank other writers and researchers for opening my eyes and inspiring my work, not only in this instance, but in a thousand other ways.
Thank you to my agent, Barbara Poelle, the first person to believe in me, and the person who still has my back, even when I don’t realize it. A million thanks (at least) to my outstanding editor, Laurie Chittenden, for forcing me to dig deeper and always finding a fix for any problem. Thank you also to Lisa Bonvissuto for all that you do!
I’m so lucky to be a part of the St. Martin’s team. My covers and interior pages somehow keep getting better—thank you to Young Lim and Anna Gorovoy for wrapping this story in the loveliest of packages.
Heaps of gratitude to the world’s hardest-working, smartest, and kindest publicist, Katie Bassel, and the crack marketing team, especially Laura Clark and Lauren Friedlander. Thank you also to Sally Richardson and Pete Wolverton for your support, and to Sally for her contributions to this book.
Huge shout-out to the amazing Dr. Laura Schobitz Bauer for insight into what it’s like to work in the ER, more accurately known as the Emergency Department, as my character Bess rightly points out. Thank you to Kristin Lando Parker for the knitting facts, and forcing my characters to sometimes “drop a stitch.” Thank you also to Heather, Greg, and Julia Olson, for granting me use of Lala’s name and nickname.
I am extraordinarily grateful to my husband, Dennis Bilski, for countless things, including the correction of my golf-related errors, not to mention his innate ability to determine when I’m “on deadline” and therefore best left in my cave. Thank you to my brilliant and funny girls, to whom this book is dedicated. Some of my happiest memories are from the time we all spent together in a house on Baxter Road.
As always, thank you to my tremendously supportive parents, Tom and Laura Gable, who make me feel like more of a star than I could ever dream to be, and to my siblings, Lisa Gable Wheatley and Brian Gable, for the ongoing encouragement. Thanks also to Bill and Suzy Gable; I so appreciate your hand-selling my books.
One of the best things about going on a book tour is seeing friends countrywide. Special thanks to my Richmond and DC crew, especially Elaine Turville Kropp, Anna Dinwiddie Hatfield, Laura Schobitz Bauer (again!), and Caryn Parlee Simpkins, and to my North Carolina pals, specifically Martha Hurst Seaman. In San Diego and always, I have the unending warmth and support of Karen Freeman Landers and Lauren Gist. Dinners, Chargers games, spa days—you two are the greatest.
Finally, thank you to the readers who show up at my events, send kind e-mails, and in general remind me how lucky I am to have this career.
ALSO BY MICHELLE GABLE
A Paris Apartment
I’ll See You in Paris
About the Author
MICHELLE GABLE graduated from The College of William & Mary. After a twenty-year career in finance, she now writes full-time, and is the author of A Paris Apartment and I’ll See You in Paris. Michelle lives in Cardiff-by-the-Sea, California, with her husband, two daughters, a lazy cat, and one very feisty bunny. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
Also By Michelle Gable
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizat
ions, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE BOOK OF SUMMER. Copyright © 2017 by Michelle Gable. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Young Jin Lim
Cover photograph by Laura Hanifin
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Gable, Michelle, author.
Title: The book of summer: a novel / Michelle Gable.
Description: First Edition.|New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2017.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017001070|ISBN 9781250070623 (hardcover)|ISBN 9781466880955 (e-book)|ISBN 9781250153173 (international edition)
Subjects:|BISAC: FICTION / Contemporary Women.|FICTION / Family Life.|FICTION / Historical.
Classification: LCC PS3607.A237 B66 2017|DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017001070
e-ISBN 9781466880955
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First Edition: May 2017