Girls of Summer (Shelter Rock Cove - Book #2)

by Barbara Bretton

  “That leaves a big margin for error,” Amanda noted.

  “Which is one of the reasons why I would also strongly urge the use of a condom as well.”

  Tori slumped back down in her seat. “They’re gross.”

  “They’re necessary,” Ellen shot back. “Sex carries risks other than pregnancy, Tori.” She launched into her STD speech, the one that would have sent her spiraling into a permanent state of celibacy if she had heard it at Tori’s age. But the world had changed dramatically in the last two decades. AIDS was only being whispered about when she was in her teens. The widespread reality of its horror had yet to be understood. She paused for a moment and waited while mother and daughter digested some of her message.

  “So you’re saying no matter what, I have to use condoms?”

  “That’s what I’m saying. The Pill can protect you from an unwanted pregnancy, but it won’t protect you from sexually transmitted diseases.”

  “I thought it was like penicillin or something.”

  She met Amanda’s eyes. “I think the two of you would benefit from attending our Wednesday workshop on teenagers and sex. It will help you understand the various options.”

  “I’m not sure I want my daughter on the Pill at sixteen.”

  “I can understand your concerns,” Ellen said, “and I’m happy to discuss them.” She provided some facts and figures, the prohibitions, and handed each of them a series of booklets that detailed the various forms of birth control.

  “Where is this Wednesday workshop?” Amanda asked. They both ignored Tori’s eye-rolling commentary.

  “The community room at the hospital,” Ellen said. “It begins at seven-thirty and ends at nine. It’s a very straightforward, blunt presentation. I think you should know that going in.”

  “Maybe that’s what we need,” Amanda said, slipping the brochures into her handbag. “Tori has been very lucky so far, but we all know that won’t last forever.”

  They chatted briefly, then Amanda and Tori left. Why did these mother-daughter encounters take so much out of her? There was so much she had wanted to say to Tori about sexuality and its place in her life, but her mother had set the boundaries and it was Ellen’s job to abide by them. They were skidding downhill toward disaster quicker than either one realized, and unless both Amanda and Tori faced up to reality immediately, the next pregnancy test would yield a very different result.

  Right now that was where Amanda’s attention was focused, but there were other risks, life-threatening ones she needed to consider when she thought about her daughter’s sexuality. Tori was less than two years away from being an adult in the eyes of the world. The choices made now would affect the rest of her life. Wednesday’s workshop could be of enormous value, but that would require an admission from both of them that they needed help.

  The odds of that happening seemed very slim to Ellen.

  She poured a glass of ice water from the carafe on her desk. The cool liquid helped to revive her spirits. There had been a few moments during the consultation where she had been forcibly struck by the gap between her advice to Tori and her own actions. The discussion of condoms had hit a nerve as she tried to recall what precautions she and Hall had taken the night they made love. It was such a blur of emotion that she wasn’t sure they had taken any at all. She remembered hearing that Hall had had a vasectomy not long after she came to work with him, but that didn’t let either one of them off the hook. Not in this day and age.

  Amanda Dietrich faced a tough battle with Tori. Desire was a powerful force. It could turn educated, accomplished adults into fools, and yet they expected young girls to handle those powerful, complicated emotions with little or no guidance.

  Janna poked her head into the room. “Frieda Langley is in Room three.”

  Ellen glanced down at her schedule. “I thought Lois Bannion was my two o’clock.”

  “Mrs. Bannion canceled, Doctor. I moved Langley up an hour.”

  She took another look at the schedule. “Did you move Gelardi up an hour too?”

  Janna looked uncomfortable. “Gelardi canceled.”

  “Did she reschedule?”

  Janna shook her head. “You know Gelardi. All those club meetings, her grandchildren. I’m sure she’ll make an appointment soon.”

  Bless Janna. It was clear she knew exactly what was going on beneath the surface, and this was her way of letting Ellen know she was behind her. Janna went back to the reception desk as Ellen headed toward Room 3 and Frieda Langley.

  Hall was exiting the room they used for colposcopies and other minor office procedures. His head was bent over a sheaf of papers, and he looked up as she approached.

  “Hey,” he said. “Good day?”

  “Good question,” she parried. “I’ll let you know at five.”

  His gaze was so warm, so intimate, in a way that went far beyond the sexual. The look in his eyes felt like an embrace.

  “We’ve had five cancellations,” he said quietly.

  “Five?” She forced her voice down to a more office-friendly decibel level. “I know about Bannion and Gelardi.”

  “Weinstein, Baker, and Dinofrio.”

  “Ouch,” she said. “This isn’t looking very good, is it?”

  “We both knew there might be a little fallout.”

  “I’d better get to three before I give them more to talk about.”

  “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  She burst into laughter. “Oh, there’s a great idea for you.”

  “I’m serious. I’m having dinner with Susan and Jack at Cappy’s. Why don’t you and Deirdre join us?”

  All platonic. All aboveboard. She had no business being disappointed.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m not sure if we—”

  “This is a small town. We can’t avoid each other forever. Sooner or later we’re going to have to get back to normal. Sooner sounds good to me.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “Name the time.”

  “Seven. We’ll try for one of the dockside tables.”

  “Perfect,” she said, smiling up at him. “We’ll be there.”

  Take that, Mrs. Gelardi.

  * * *

  If you wanted to make a statement to everyone in town, Cappy’s was the place to do it. Cappy’s was town center, favorite restaurant, and scenic attraction all in one. What had started out fifty years ago as a summer-only lobster joint had evolved over time into the place you went when you wanted good food and you didn’t want to be alone. And the fact that it was situated dockside with a view of the entire sweep of picturesque Shelter Rock Cove didn’t hurt, either.

  “I thought you were bringing the girls,” Susan said as Hall joined her at the dockside table that evening. Charlie, her youngest, was sitting across the way with his friend Steve Winstead and the boy’s family.

  “Yvonne came home early,” he said, “so I invited two other sisters to take their place.”

  “Ellen and the harp player? Why did you do that?”

  He had to hand it to his old pal. You never had to worry that Susan was hiding her real feelings. She usually gave them to you right between the eyes.

  “What’s the problem?” He sat down opposite her. “You liked Ellen enough yesterday when she handed you all that money for Claudia’s house.”

  Susan began shredding her paper napkin, a sure sign something was bugging her.

  “Knock that off,” he said grabbing for what was left of the napkin. “You’re getting more like your mother every day.” Claudia Galloway was notorious for shredding anything she could get her hands on when she was under stress.

  “You don’t have to insult me.”

  “That’s more like it,” he said. “Why the sudden problem with Ellen?” Was this the same woman who had convinced him to stop by Ellen’s for the impromptu housewarming?

  “I don’t have a problem with Ellen,” she said, maybe a little too quickly for his taste. “I thought it would be the three of us, th
at’s all. Just family.”

  He looked around. “Where’s Jack?”

  “Stuck at the shop. He said he’ll meet us here. Scott’ll drop him off.”

  “If you have anything to say, Susie, this might be a good time to say it.”

  She leaned across the table and fixed him with a fierce look. “What the hell are you thinking?” she demanded. “I can’t believe you’re starting something up with your partner.”

  “Not your business,” he said evenly. “That’s why it’s called a private life.”

  “Bullshit.” Nothing like a good old Anglo-Saxonism to clear the air between friends. “You were born here. You know nothing stays private for long. I mean, didn’t you cause enough talk after the christening? Mary Gelardi is thinking of switching to Hank’s medical group at the hospital.”

  She already did, Susie. “Hank’s a fine doctor. So are his associates. She’ll be in good hands.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “That’s all I’m going to say.”

  “You know what this is about. You’re still rebounding. Every time you’re around Annie, you—”

  “I think you’d better stop right there, Susan.”

  She leaned back and looked at him. It was clear she wasn’t happy about it, but she let the subject drop.

  They pretended rapt interest in reading Cappy’s menu, which hadn’t changed since before either one of them was born. He was beginning to wonder if he shouldn’t call it a night and head Ellen and Deirdre off at the parking lot. They could always drive over to the Barnacle. The food wasn’t as good as Cappy’s, but the company might be a lot less unpredictable. He was about to push back from the table when Ellen and Deirdre joined them.

  Susan’s smile looked sincere enough, but he didn’t trust her not to make his life a living hell.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Ellen said. She glanced at him, then aimed her smile in Susan’s direction. “I shouldn’t have stopped to change.” She was wearing jeans and a crisp white shirt with the cuffs rolled back. He was so accustomed to seeing her in a lab coat or scrubs that the sight of her in civilian clothes always took him by surprise.

  “Don’t let her take all the blame,” Deirdre said, sitting down next to him. “I couldn’t lure Stanley back into the house.” Ellen’s sister was wearing jeans, too, but hers were soft and faded and her blouse reminded him of those peasant getups they wore in the late sixties.

  The sisters launched into a story about Stanley that quickly had Susan laughing, and Hall felt himself begin to relax. Hallie, their waitress, lit two citronella candles on either end of the table, then brought them pitchers of iced tea and lemonade. She suggested sharing a bucket of steamers while they waited for Jack, but Susan shook her head.

  “To hell with Jack,” she said with a raucous laugh. “Let’s order!”

  “That was easy,” Ellen said as Hallie hurried away. Three lobster specials, one cheeseburger medium rare, all with fresh corn and a side of coleslaw.

  “Do you know what this would cost in Boston?” Deirdre asked. “I feel like I’m stealing.”

  The three women launched into a lively debate on the relative merits of small-town Maine over big-city Boston, which gave Hall the chance to sit back and enjoy watching Ellen. She had beautiful hands. A surgeon’s hands. Strong but graceful, blessed with long, tapering fingers. Her nails were filed short and coated in clear polish. She wore very little jewelry. Earrings. A watch. No rings or bracelets or necklaces. Her mane of wild auburn curls was ornamentation enough. He loved the way her curls reflected the glow of the setting sun, like tamed fire wreathing her lovely and animated face.

  She caught him looking at her and glanced quickly away. Susan clearly noted the byplay but said nothing. Deirdre, who had been entertaining them with a very funny story about a club she had played in Cambridge, suddenly fell silent. Her attention was focused somewhere over Hall’s right-shoulder, and he turned to see Jack walking toward them with his new mechanic right behind him.

  * * *

  Scott the Mechanic tried to escape, but Susan wouldn’t let him. “Shove over, everybody,” she said, and they made room at the picnic bench for one more.

  Deirdre smiled at him over her mound of lobster. He flashed her what she assumed was a smile, but it vanished so quickly she couldn’t be sure. It was clear he would rather be any place but where he was, and she couldn’t help feeling a little bit sorry for him. Not too sorry, mind you, because she knew the type. Give them an inch of sympathy and next thing you knew you were handing over your checkbook and the keys to your car.

  Come to think of it, he already had the keys to her car. The idea struck her as hilariously funny and she started to laugh. She tried to muffle the sound behind her lobster bib, but it was too late. All eyes were on her.

  “J-just ignore me,” she said, laughing merrily. “This happens whenever I eat lobster.”

  All eyes then shifted to Ellen, who shrugged. “Don’t ask me. She’s only my sister.”

  Bless her! That was exactly the right thing to say. The table broke up with laughter, and the conversation picked up where it had left off. Only Scott sensed something besides lobster was going on.

  “So what’s the joke?” He cracked the back of his lobster, then reached for the pick.

  “I don’t think you’d like it.”

  “Try me. I have a pretty decent sense of humor.”

  She dipped a nugget of claw meat into the drawn butter. “It has to do with bad boys, car keys, and sympathy.”

  She wasn’t sure if his expression was deadpan or deeply nuanced. Either way she didn’t know what on earth he was thinking.

  “No comment?” she asked, popping the meat into her mouth.

  “Nope.”

  “You’re not curious?”

  “Should I be?”

  How a man could smell so good after spending the day under a Hyundai was beyond her, but he did.

  “I thought only New Yorkers answer a question with another question.”

  “Who says I’m not a New Yorker?”

  She started to laugh again, but this time he laughed with her. “I grew up close enough to Boston to recognize a Southie when I hear one.”

  “Most people think I sound like I’m from Brooklyn.”

  “Only people who’ve never actually been to Brooklyn.”

  “Or people who’ve never actually known a Southie.” Jesus, he really did have a great smile.

  “It’s all in your diphthongs,” she said, even though there wasn’t a diphthong within fifty miles. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s my diphthongs.”

  Oh, God. What if he thought a diphthong was something from the Victoria’s Secret catalog. If you had to explain a punch line, it was all over.

  “You’re not trying to work it into a sentence, are you?” he asked as he slathered butter on an ear of deep yellow corn. That smile was definitely a killer.

  “You mean I don’t have to?”

  “Not for me.”

  Bad-boy looks. Good-boy vocabulary. This was getting dangerous.

  * * *

  Deirdre and Scott Peretti?

  Ellen was so busy trying to eavesdrop on her sister and the mechanic that she lost track of the other conversations at the table. So that was what he sounded like. She hadn’t heard Scott utter more than ten words since he first moved to Shelter Rock Cove a few months ago, but he had been making up for lost time since he sat down next to Deirdre.

  In fact, all three of the men at the picnic table seemed fascinated by her sister. Hall had a huge smile plastered across his face each time he looked at Deirdre, and even Jack, who didn’t have a flirtatious bone in his body, was practically twinkling in Deirdre’s direction. It was the clothes. Ellen was sure of it. All a woman had to do was wear something that looked as if it just might slip off any moment, and you had them eating from the palm of your hand. She was considering the wisdom of an off-the-shoulder lab coat when her pager went off. She unclipped it
from the waistband of her jeans and checked the code, then whipped out her cell phone.

  “I have to leave,” she apologized as she rose from the table. She slipped some money under Deirdre’s iced tea glass to cover the bill.

  “Patsy Wheeler?” Hall asked quietly.

  “Her husband brought her into emergency.” She wanted to say more, but it was inappropriate with everyone listening.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  The first time he joined her on an emergency call, she had been highly insulted. She had called him out into the hall and read him the riot act about his lack of faith in her abilities, telling him she would pack up her office right that minute and leave if this was the way things would be between them.

  She had grown up in the world of big city hospitals, of pecking orders, and territorial disputes. The world in which she had trained was built on a foundation of politics and funding, and she had brought that protective attitude with her to Shelter Rock Cove. Not that it was any different in Maine. Doctors still battled for position and funding for their particular specialties, but not Hall. It had taken her a while to fully understand that when he said he wanted to join her on a call, if wasn’t because he didn’t trust her. It wasn’t about her at all. It was about the patient. Odds were he had grown up with the woman or played ball in her yard as a boy. They weren’t patients to him. They were women with histories, families who loved them. He had been a part of it all, and he wanted her to be part of it, too.

  She pulled her car keys from the back pocket of her jeans. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  “Did you forget someone?” Deirdre muttered as Hall and Ellen drove away in their separate vehicles. What kind of sister would leave her penniless sibling alone in the middle of nowhere with a group of lobster-eating strangers and their offspring?

  “She’s the best thing that ever happened to him,” Jack said. “I haven’t seen him look this happy since—”