“But it is beautiful in the morning,” Cynthia Hall would finish, in her southern-born, diplomatic way.
For her part, Devon never grew tired of the beach at Southampton, no matter the time. She had been to Hawaii and to St. Thomas and to Costa Rica, and even to places like Necker Island, where only the daughter of a man who owns a fleet of airline jets would ever go, but this place remained her favorite.
It is possible that the two girls standing beside her now were part of the reason.
“I need water,” Devon said, and they diverted to the snack bar, where they each picked up a small bottle of Evian. The man at the little desk smiled at each of them and made three quick marks with his pencil. “Hall, Westcott, Bean, thank you,” he said quietly.
The Lifeguard
They walked to the edge of the wide brick patio and down the miniature set of stairs to the beach. Then they were on the hot sand, grimacing with delight and pain as they tiptoed frantically closer to the water, until the heat under their feet became bearable. They moved even closer to the ocean, until the spray brought the air temperature down to a more reasonable level, and then they turned right, heading west toward New York, and began their walk along the cool sand.
Nina wasted no time. She demanded to know when Florin planned to finally start dating James. Or at least hooking up with him on some level. With the clear implication that the one did not necessarily precede the other.
Florin blushed and looked down. “Maybe when he’s not talking care of two children,” she said finally.
Nina huffed. “That’s going to be never,” she said. “Get moving. You’re cute, he’s cute, and there it is. Plus, he’s so into you.”
Florin kicked at the sand, clearly enjoying the conversation. “You should talk,” she said to Nina. “You haven’t said a single word to the new boy.”
“Don’t question the master,” Nina said, narrowing her eyes. “You’ll see.”
Devon gave Florin a concerned look. “Is James okay, do you think?”
Florin glanced up at her. This question was dangerously close to the edge of their self-imposed ban on discussions about Pauline; but it was really about James, so that was okay. “He’s fine,” Florin said. She considered for a moment. “He’s tired, and she doesn’t help. He gets grumpy a lot. I think Frankie wakes him up at night, and she doesn’t pitch in.”
Devon and Nina both nodded. True and true. And nothing to be done.
“I don’t think he’d mind messing around with you,” Nina said, getting back to the heart of the matter as she saw it. “You’re a sex-pot, as anyone can see. I’d take a taste of you myself, but I’m too busy wooing the new kid. You understand.”
Florin nodded slowly at this, as if Nina had observed that James enjoyed eating French Fries. She did her best to shrug off the faux-lesbian remark, which was simply the way Nina liked to give compliments “Right, thanks for that,” Florin said. “But he’s got a lot going on. I don’t want to – ”
“Bullshit,” Devon said suddenly. They looked at her with surprise. Devon never cursed. “That boy needs a break. He’s been our friend since forever. Barnes’s, too, but Barnes can only do so much. He can punch James in the arm and take him out to parties and tell him he’s the man, but let’s not put it all on him. James could use your help, and this is something you could do. He’d like to be with you.”
They were all silent for a minute. This was a new dynamic between them: discussing physical intimacy as though it were currency, or a simple favor. Maybe it was because they were all about to be juniors in high school. Attitudes were changing. They were changing.
Devon stopped and turned neatly on her heels, and the other two fell in line next to her. They had walked to their customary turnaround spot opposite the house they all loved, the one on Dune Road that looked as though it had been designed to blend in and move with the sand dunes around it. It was called the Cross House, and the story they had all heard was that Mr. Cross, who was not a member of the Beach Club but was definitely a part of Southampton society, had been suicidal as a younger man. He had come out here and met a girl, and then built the house for her after knowing her for only a day. That girl was now Mrs. Cross, and the two of them still lived in that beautiful, perfect house. Devon thought it was a sweet story, if a little too dramatic to be believable.
The girls took a minute to look at the house and wonder if a strange man would ever appear out of nowhere and build them a house, and then they looked back to where they had come from. They were a half-mile away from the Beach Club, which was now only a small, brick-red shape in the distance. It could have been just another large house on the edge of the sand.
They moved a few paces closer to the ocean, where the beach was smoother and easier to walk on, and they began heading back toward the club.
“Do you think he’ll get weird?” Florin asked, sounding philosophical.
Devon looked at her. “James? After?”
“Before. During. After.” Florin shook her head hopelessly. “Anytime. I don’t want him to stop giving me ice cream kisses on my cheek.”
Nina rolled her eyes. “It’s weird now,” she said. “You two already act like a married couple. He takes care of those kids basically on his own, and you do little favors for each other like a pair of Secret Santas.”
Florin laughed at this. “Please,” she said. “I’m not the one constantly bickering and flirting all day long. If anyone’s a married couple here, it’s you and Barnes.”
Nina shrugged. “I’ll do it with Barnes, if that’s what you want. But only if you do it with James first.”
Devon put her hands up. “Settle down. We’re not setting up a competition here – ”
“Away from that rope, you idiot!”
It was Kenny.
They stopped talking and looked ahead. The Beach Club was less than a hundred yards away now, and they were coming up to the ocean lifeguard stand. The man who usually sat up on the perch there, a Beach Club veteran named Kenny Vaughn, was down on the sand, jogging toward the water and shouting at the top of his lungs. “That way,” Kenny barked, jabbing the air with his finger. “Away from the lines! Christ!”
Kenny and the other two ocean lifeguards – they rotated duty in shifts, like firefighters or nurses – were unlike any of the other staff at the club, in that they were not courteous at all. Devon had asked her father about this once. About why, when every other person she encountered in this town was so perfectly sweet and helpful, the ocean lifeguards had to be so nasty all the time. Devon’s father sat her down at the huge table in their kitchen and tried to explain. He told her first that the test for becoming an ocean lifeguard was nothing like the one for becoming a pool lifeguard, that swim-team members routinely failed the test over and over, and that Kenny and his group were among the highest paid hourly staff in the club.
Twelve years old at the time of this conversation, Devon objected out of a sense of fairness. “They just sit there most of the time,” she said. “Soaking up the sun and looking at girls.”
Peter Hall smiled at his daughter, and he nodded slowly. “But the rest of the time, at maybe two or three critical moments every week, they’re saving somebody’s life.” He reached across the table and took her hand, which he held for a minute, firm and warm. He turned it over once, then nodded and released her. “There’s a good chance Kenny will save you one of these days,” he said slowly, “and I like his pay scale just fine. Because when it’s your moment, I want him and his men on the job. I want them there with enthusiasm.”
Devon frowned. “Okay, but none of that means they have to be grouchy all day.”
“Maybe not,” her father said. “But they’re under a lot of stress. And if being grouchy helps them blow off steam, that’s good by me.”
Devon was not convinced. Maybe all that waiting around could make someone moody, but the idea that Kenny – or any of the beach lifeguards – would need to save people two or three times a week seemed like a stretch.
And then, one day in late August just one year later, when Devon had been thirteen, there had been a series of summer storms off the coast of Florida. Nina and Florin had both been gone for the week, off with their families taking vacations from this vacation, which was the kind of thing Southamptonites liked to do, and Devon had contented herself with sitting on the beach, watching the fearsome power of the waves generated by those far-off storms. On the Saturday of that week, with the sky showing a deep, cloudless blue that could lull you into ignoring the still-angry power of the ocean, Devon watched Kenny make eight saves in the space of three hours. From eleven in the morning to two in the afternoon.
It was the lunch crowd. It didn’t matter that Kenny had raised the red flag on the 30-foot club pole to warn members that the ocean was suitable only for expert swimmers. It didn’t matter that he growled and hurled peremptory insults at those he knew would need saving – “Don’t go in there, Mr. Gellman, you’re way too slow, I’m going to end up pulling your fat ass out on a rope” – or that he had a special notice posted on the front desk board near the club entrance, encouraging members to stick with the pool that day. Because folks in Southampton were accustomed to doing what they wanted. It was a hot, beautiful Saturday, and they wanted to go into the ocean. They didn’t expect to need saving, but that didn’t matter; many of them did need it.
And Kenny was there. Every time.
Her father was right.
Each time, Kenny appeared next to the struggling man or woman as if he had been holding his breath underwater all this time, waiting until the last minute to make his entrance. Devon never even saw him jump off his chair. Once she managed to catch sight of him diving into the water, but then he was already twenty yards to the right, so incredibly fast. Then one arm was across the chest of the woman he was saving at the time, her modesty gone as her flimsy bikini, so ill-suited for surf like this, was torn away by the next wave. Devon had heard Kenny himself comment to the woman as she walked toward the ocean five minutes earlier, more to himself this time: “Great. This isn’t the way I want to get a look at those knockers, honey. Son of a bitch. What’s the point of an outfit like that? To get tied around your neck when I’m pulling you out?”
But five minutes later she was saved, and she didn’t care if she had been embarrassed. Neither did the other woman and the three other men, all of whom had entered the water with strangely similar whoops and battle cries of self-encouragement. They didn’t care that they had to be lugged out in a fireman’s carry, one after the other, their limp bodies draped across Kenny’s broad shoulders like soaking sacks of laundry.
So now, as Devon and her friends watched and listened to Kenny hurl scorn and insults at whoever was breaking the rules – “Get your head out of your ass! Stay between the buoy lines, not on them! You’re going to get strung up like a damned Halibut!” – she supposed it was likely that the lifeguard had every reason to be gruff. Kenny’s face was bright red from the heat and the exertion of screaming at the errant swimmer; sweat was dripping down his sun-baked forehead.
“He’s always so mean,” Florin said.
“But he’s cute,” Nina pointed out.
Florin shook her head. “He’s like forty-five, weirdo.”
Devon ignored them. Instead of heading back to the club, she walked straight toward the lifeguard chair. Kenny, who was now apparently satisfied that the swimmer was not going to hang himself on the buoy ropes, was skulking back to the big white chair, his shoulders hunched over, his expression one of grim forbearance. He did not see Devon coming toward him, and she quickened her pace to intercept.
“Devon, what – ?” Nina began.
“Not the time to start something,” Florin said quietly, so that only Devon could hear. “He insults everybody, but I don’t think it’s personal. I know I said he’s mean, but I think that’s probably just the stress of his job, so you shouldn’t –”
Devon put a hand on the leg of the lifeguard chair, blocking Kenny’s way. He stopped one pace from the chair and looked at her. His face was stern, but not angry. He seemed to consider Devon for a moment. To study her. She did not wither under his gaze, but simply looked back at him.
He straightened up.
Devon handed him the little bottle of Evian water she had been holding. It was still unopened. Kenny took it without a word, unscrewed the top, and emptied it in four quick swallows. He replaced the top, crushed the bottle, and deposited it in the trash bag hanging from a nail on the side of the lifeguard chair. He let out a breath, then reached out and tousled Devon’s hair as though she were a shortstop on a little league team who had made a better-than-average play.
He climbed up the lifeguard chair, back to his perch.
Devon turned and headed up to the beach-side entrance of the club. She looked over her shoulder at Nina and Florin, who were still standing motionless on the sand. They looked down at their own Evian bottles as though the water inside might contain a clear and undetectable elixir.
“What just happened?” Florin said finally.
“Are you trying to start something with him?” Nina asked.
But Devon was unwilling to address either question. She was moving on. “Florin,” she said, fixing her friend with a serious look. “Now is the time. Go ask James to the movies. Or something. And then go hook up.”
Florin’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really. And you.” She pointed at Nina. “I’ve had enough of your stalling. What’s the problem? If this isn’t the right boy, we’re going to have to start signing you up for some of those alternative dating websites. Modern-girls-seeking-other-open-minded-girls-dot-com, or something. So you’d better go talk to him the next time he’s out of the water for more than five seconds, or I’ll do it for you.”
Which is something I’d be happy to take care of, she didn’t add.
Nina nodded. She looked briefly uncomfortable, but then the sense of what Devon had said seemed to get through to her. “Right. Okay, you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. You’ve got less than three months until school starts up again. Both of you, get a wiggle on.”
And that was it.
Frankie’s Big Ride
With renewed purpose, the three of them marched up the sand to the entrance. Devon realized privately that she was now the only one without a mission, but she still had her parents’ wedding anniversary to plan. Which would be fine, since her school months always provided more than enough dramatic flair to last her until the following September.
They came to the little set of stairs at the beach entrance, where a staff man sat next to a pile of umbrellas and chairs. He nodded pleasantly at the three of them, just as the front desk man did when they came in through the front. This man was yet another employee charged with fending off the unwashed masses who so often tried to gain access to the club. The most common interlopers were people walking by on the beach, who would look up at the sweeping brick patio and the rows of blue umbrellas and decide that this seemed like a nice place to have some lunch. The man at the beach entrance would tell them the club was private, and usually they would simply turn away, being careful to hide their disappointment, because who wants to come into your crummy club anyway? But sometimes there was resistance. Sometimes the people coming up from the beach would protest that the club was essentially on the ocean itself, and that it was therefore public property. Or that they simply needed to use the restroom, and how could they be denied that basic right?
Quite easily, as it turned out.
Devon and Nina and Florin rinsed the sand off their feet with the little spigot by the stairs, and then they climbed back up the short flight to the mezzanine. They walked to the top of the high stairs leading down to the pool, where Devon paused for a moment. “You two get to work,” she said. “I’m going to say hi to my parents.”
Florin and Nina nodded, and they waved to the Halls as they descended the stairs. “Mr. and Mrs. Hall!” they called out. “Mamma Devon, Papa D
evon!”
Peter and Cynthia Hall waved back and smiled, and then they turned to welcome their only daughter. They had finished their lunch long ago, but they liked looking out over the pool. Now here came Devon, and they were both delighted to see her, though of course they had all arrived together at the club not two hours earlier. She was wearing her favorite blue swimsuit, a no-nonsense one-piece that went well with her dark brown hair. They marveled at her posture as she came to them; at the way she walked purposefully, and yet as though she had all the time in the world; at her steady eyes, and her easy smile, and at the idea that the two of them could have created such a creature.
And they both reminded themselves silently to say nothing of the kind. So instead they simply smiled and held out their hands to her.
With obvious love.
Devon gave them each a kiss on the top of the head, then sat down at their table and looked down over the pool. James was there, asleep. It was strange to see him without Frankie in his arms or Ned in tow, and Devon found herself scanning the pool area for them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ned returning from the lockers, still being led by the unpredictable Pauline. Ned was out of his whites and into a bathing suit, Devon saw.
But he didn’t look as cheerful as before.
She hoped Ned hadn’t gotten on Pauline’s bad side while they were out of sight.
It took Devon longer to locate Frankie. Just as she was beginning to worry, she heard him giggling. She looked and found him in the arms of his father, who was finally up and about.
Not the place where I would ordinarily look for little Frankie, Devon thought to herself.
Incredibly, Austin was back in the pool. She couldn’t believe anyone would want to do this many laps, but there he was, swimming as though he had just begun. Was he training for something in particular? Again she found herself feeling annoyed. She had made up her mind that this morning’s stare-off really had been her imagination – surely he had just been lost in his own thoughts, and hadn’t even really seen her there – which meant it was time for Nina to make things happen. Except that the longer Austin was in the water, and the longer his encounter with Nina was delayed, the less sure Devon was that she wanted Nina to actually succeed in that encounter.
Southampton Spectacular Page 4