Girls of Summer

by Nancy Thayer

  “You seem pensive,” Ryder said as they walked over the soft green grass to the boardwalk.

  “Mmm, I’m slightly and happily intoxicated,” Juliet murmured.

  They stood at the edge of the boardwalk, where wooden ramps led down to boat slips. Small sailboats and motorboats bobbed gently in the dark water, and a few burgees waved slightly in the breeze.

  “I have something for you,” Ryder said.

  “Oh, yes?” Juliet stretched her arms out, yawning like a large, satisfied cat. The night could not be more beautiful, warm, and sweet.

  Ryder reached into the pocket of his white uniform and took out a small box. He handed it to Juliet.

  “Am I going to regret opening this?” Juliet asked suspiciously.

  “I don’t think so,” Ryder told her. “And if you don’t want it, you can just toss it into the harbor.”

  “Well, that’s intriguing.” Juliet opened the box. A key on a strip of black leather lay inside the box. “What’s this?”

  “It’s the key to my house in Marblehead,” Ryder told her.

  “Ryder, I’m not moving in with—”

  Ryder interrupted. “Hear me out. If you didn’t pay rent on your Cambridge apartment, how much money would you save to put toward building your computer company? You would have your own space. I’ve shown you the suite I think you’d like, with the private bathroom and office. Greta, our housekeeper, could keep the kitchen stocked with the coffee and bagels you like so much. You could come and go as you please. We probably wouldn’t spend much time together at the house since we’ll both be traveling a lot, but now and then we can enjoy dinner together. And so on.”

  “Ryder—”

  “And if you wanted a break from me, you could always come down to Nantucket.”

  Juliet picked up the key and dangled it from her fingers. Such an ordinary object, small and brass and notched and safely attached to the long leather strip that would fit easily in her pocket. The outdoor light struck it, sparking gold, and she smiled. She still didn’t trust Ryder’s feelings for her. They’d only known each other for three months. But to be merely practical, it would be very helpful not to have to pay rent. She needed a virtual assistant, and this would free up funds to pay for one.

  And to be merely romantic, it would be absolutely lovely to arrive home from a long business trip, take a cab to Ryder’s house, and find him waiting there. This had happened twice now, and both times her whole heart brightened with joy to see him. They’d opened a bottle of good wine, microwaved Greta’s sensational meals, and eaten in the kitchen, Juliet with her shoes off, both of them talking nonstop about their days. Other days she had spent in “her” office at his house, tapping away at her computer, forgetting to brush her teeth or dress until her stomach growled for lunch. And those days had ended in Ryder’s great big bed, so comfortable, so easeful, so welcoming. She had never known the pleasure of falling asleep in someone’s arms until she slept with Ryder. Being next to him, warm and safe, allowed her to sink into such deep restorative sleeps that she woke feeling as energetic and optimistic as a child.

  If this man broke her heart, she’d kill him.

  “Thank you,” Juliet said to Ryder. “I’m glad to have this. A little terrified, but mostly glad. I love you, Ryder.”

  “I love you, too,” he told her, and pulled her away from the dock, into the shadow of the pro shop, where no one could see them kiss.

  Theo had, of course, opted to come to the gala as a surfer, because really? He wore his board shorts, his inflation vest, a rope bracelet, and flip-flops. Beth had planned to come as a surfer, too, but Theo had freaked out at the thought of her showing up in front of everyone in her bikini and insisted she wear her chiffon cover-up. Even so, Theo thought she looked way too sexy to be seen. She’d woven blue and green ribbons in her hair, clipped on glittering starfish and seashells, and added a speck of Coppertone on her wrists so she’d smell like summer.

  During the band’s intermission, they’d talked with friends, and Theo had a couple of more beers, but not so many he’d feel legless. One thing he’d learned in his life was how to handle quite a few brews without getting wobbly.

  Besides, he wanted to show Beth something tonight. It was the perfect night to do it, with the air so sweet and warm and the harbor full of lighted boats and laughter everywhere.

  “Beth,” he said. “Walk down to the dock with me.”

  “Sure,” she replied easily, and slipped her hand into his.

  “You know, your cover-up doesn’t really do a great job of covering you up,” Theo said.

  Beth grinned. “It’s not supposed to.”

  “I wish you’d wear a one-piece. Maybe a Speedo.”

  “Or maybe one of those bathing suits with a skirt?” Beth teased.

  “Or maybe just never go swimming,” Theo told her.

  Taking her hand, he led her to a bench on the boardwalk. “I want to give you something.”

  Beth arched an eyebrow. “Should I be excited?”

  “It’s not what you think. But it is a surprise.”

  “Well, stop teasing me! Show me!”

  Theo reached into his pocket and solemnly brought out a small pebble. Beth held out her hand, and he gently placed it in her palm.

  “A pebble,” Beth said. “How unique. I don’t think I’ve seen pebbles anywhere on the island.”

  “It’s not just a pebble,” Theo said. “It’s our pebble.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  When Beth leaned toward him, her cover-up clung to her body, making it hard for Theo to concentrate. But this was important.

  “I bought a piece of land. Off Polpis Road. I’m going to build us a house there.”

  Beth gasped. “How could you afford land on this island?”

  “Well, it’s not big. No ocean view. But it’s got beach plum bushes.”

  “But, Theo—”

  “Sawyer Daly was my running back in high school. He’s in real estate now. I told him what I wanted, and he gave me a deal. My mom had to co-sign the mortgage on the land, and your father advanced me some money on my wages. I’ll drive you out there tomorrow to see it.” He expected Beth to throw her arms around him and kiss him.

  “How could you do this without me?” Beth demanded.

  “Beth, it’s a sweet piece of land—”

  “I’m sure it is, but if we’re going to live there, then I’m going to pay for half of it.”

  “But—”

  “Theo, please. We’ve talked about this before. I love that you rescued me the day of the storm, but I’m a perfectly capable human being and I do not want to be dependent on you.”

  “I thought this would make you happy,” Theo said, puzzled.

  “In a way, it does, Theo, of course. But what would really make me happy would be for us to go to the real estate office tomorrow, and have someone show me the financials, and allow me to put in exactly as much money as you’ve put toward the mortgage. And put my name on the deed.”

  “I already put your name on the deed,” Theo said. “Of course.”

  “Oh, Theo.” Beth leaned forward and hugged him. “You are so romantic. And I’m glad. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings somehow, but can you understand why I’m saying this?”

  “I can,” Theo admitted. “Now that I think about it, I can understand what you’re saying. So of course we’ll go to the bank and you can withdraw your money and put it toward the mortgage. Then we can give your dad and my mom some of the money back.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you can see my point of view.”

  “Actually,” Theo teased, “I can’t see anything but you in that cover-up.”

  “I’ll take it off when we get home,” Beth told him. “But first, let’s go back to the party and dance.”

  They held hands
as they walked back into the ballroom. The band was playing again, a nice slow sixties’ medley, and Beth slid into Theo’s arms as if she belonged there.

  They saw Theo’s mom dancing with Beth’s dad, and Juliet dancing with Ryder. In the room full of mermaids and Neptunes, pirates and naval officers, they danced together through rippling green ribbons of silky seaweed, holding each other tight, knowing that tonight was only the beginning.

  For

  Cassie, Nico, and Angelo of 44DS

  acknowledgments

  Did you know that Jason Momoa is twelve years younger than his wife Lisa Bonet? I know! Emmanuel Macron, the president of France, is twenty-five years younger than his wife, Brigitte. John Lennon was seven years younger than Yoko Ono.

  I’ve always been fascinated by these couples. We’re accustomed to older husband/younger wife teams, but recently age seems to matter less. One of my good friends is seven years older than her husband; another friend is sixteen years older than her husband.

  This fascination was the starting point for Girls of Summer, and as Lisa (Lisa Hawley, not Lisa Bonet) says, it’s good to know where you want to be, but sometimes you have to go in the opposite direction to get there.

  I’m enormously grateful to my editor, Shauna Summers, for helping me get where I wanted to be with this book. Thank you, Shauna, for your perceptive and insightful editing.

  Thanks to the superstars Gina Centrello, Kara Welsh, and Kim Hovey of Penguin Random House. Lexi Batsides, Allison Schuster, Karen Fink, Jennifer Rodriguez, and Madeline Hopkins deserve bouquets of roses for all the great work they do. I’m so grateful to my agent, Meg Ruley, and her associate, Christina Hogrebe, at the Jane Rotrosen Literary Agency, and they know why!

  Thank you, Sara Mallion, my brilliant virtual assistant, and Chris Mason of Novation Media, who make my website and newsletters and media posts colorful and fun. Susan McGinnis, I’m so grateful to you for your elegant help at the computer and everywhere else. Curlette Anglin and Tanieca Hosang, you know I couldn’t do it without you!

  I’ve lived on Nantucket for thirty-five years, and the realities of this island thirty miles out in the Atlantic are changing fast. Philanthropist and Nantucket resident Wendy Schmidt is president of the 11th Hour Project, an advocate for the wise use of our natural resources and a leader in ocean exploration. Wendy, thank you.

  The annual and fabulous Nantucket Book Festival brought Sylvia A. Earle, oceanographer and National Geographic Explorer-in-Residence, to our island last year to speak about her book The World is Blue. You can catch her gorgeous video Mission Blue on Netflix.

  Ocearch, a data-based organization that collects information about ocean creatures, especially the great white sharks, often docks its research boat in Nantucket in the summer. Because of them, I have a shark-tracker app on my phone. Haven’t needed it so far!

  Nantucket’s own Scott Leonard, of Marine Mammal Alliance Nantucket, is a hero, and if you don’t believe me, try to take a web of plastic off a terrified and angry seal. Doctor Doolittle would faint. You can see some of Leonard’s rescues on their Facebook page.

  Independent bookstores are at the heart of connecting readers and writers. We’re so fortunate to have Mitchell’s Book Corner on Nantucket, and I’m grateful to Wendy Hudson, Christina Machiavelli, Dick Burns, and the multi-talented Tim Ehrenberg for being there. Thanks to Elizabeth Merritt and all the brilliant staff at Titcomb’s Bookshop on the Cape.

  And libraries! We are wildly fortunate to have free public libraries all over this country, and I send enormous thanks to librarians everywhere.

  Every day I learn something significant from my Facebook and Instagram friends. My heart’s capacity to love seems to be infinite, because I love these friends so infinitely.

  The courage to love is what inspired me to write Girls of Summer. I think life is a lesson in building that courage, and I’m grateful for the friends and family who have taught me how to reach deep. Hugs and kisses to Ellias, Fabulous, Emmett, Annie, Sam, Tommy, Josh, and David. Godiva chocolate to Deborah, Tricia, Dinah, Sofia, Martha, Antonia, and the multi-talented Sara Manela. My courageous and classy friend Jill Hunter Burrill is the grand master of how to love. Or should that be grand mistress? Whatever, she is remarkable.

  And my husband, Charley Walters, is pretty amazing, too. We’ve been married for thirty-five years, and he’s seven years younger than I am. He might just be the inspiration for this book.

  Enjoy Girls of Summer!

  by nancy thayer

  Girls of Summer

  Surfside Sisters

  A Nantucket Wedding

  Secrets in Summer

  The Island House

  A Very Nantucket Christmas

  The Guest Cottage

  An Island Christmas

  Nantucket Sisters

  A Nantucket Christmas

  Island Girls

  Summer Breeze

  Heat Wave

  Beachcombers

  Summer House

  Moon Shell Beach

  The Hot Flash Club Chills Out

  Hot Flash Holidays

  The Hot Flash Club Strikes Again

  The Hot Flash Club

  Custody

  Between Husbands and Friends

  An Act of Love

  Belonging

  Family Secrets

  Everlasting

  My Dearest Friend

  Spirit Lost

  Morning

  Nell

  Bodies and Souls

  Three Women at the Water’s Edge

  Stepping

  about the author

  NANCY THAYER is the New York Times bestselling author of more than thirty novels, including Surfside Sisters, A Nantucket Wedding, Secrets in Summer, The Island House, The Guest Cottage, An Island Christmas, Nantucket Sisters, and Island Girls. Born in Kansas, Thayer has been a resident of Nantucket for thirty-five years, where she currently lives with her husband, Charley, and a precocious rescue cat named Callie.

  nancythayer.com

  Facebook.com/​NancyThayerBooks

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