Jean-Rose cut hydrangea blooms from over the porch railing with a scissor, then arranged them in vases Ruth had left out the night before. “Okay, this is serious now. Where is Ruth? She was supposed to be here an hour ago.”
“I’ll call her again,” Heddy said. Inside, she tried Ruth’s number, but an operator came on, her nasally voice announcing the number was out of service. She sometimes heard a similar refrain when she called home from Wellesley, gripping the lining of her woolen skirt pocket when she heard the operator’s voice, imagining the woman was pock-faced and full of judgment.
“Still no answer,” Heddy said.
“It’s strange… she’s usually very punctual.” Jean-Rose downed a glass of water. “We have the entire club coming to hear about Ash’s plans. I need her.”
“She must be on her way.” Heddy made a mental note to check her makeup before the bachelor was set to arrive.
Jean-Rose disappeared inside, then returned a few minutes later with a glass of champagne, mumbling that she needed to relax. She followed Heddy as she fixed and folded. “What do you want to do after Wellesley? Clearly, you’re not writing a movie.”
Heddy didn’t look up, a little stunned by Jean-Rose’s blatant lack of faith but also because she was probably right. “Maybe something in teaching,” she said. Teaching would make her mother happy, after all.
“Oh, I thought I’d go into education, too. My parents made me go to UPenn—I didn’t want to be one of four girls on campus. But I liked it enough. I was a columnist for the women’s newspaper. We may have been the only paper in the country to publish engagement statistics like batting averages.” She sighed. “But I covered serious topics like the integration of women into the men’s cafeteria and such.”
Ted guffawed. “Sounds serious.”
Jean-Rose smiled. “Anyway, keeping house was more important to me, dear. And it will be for you, too.” Heddy liked that Jean-Rose expected her to follow in her footsteps, like they were equals somehow. “Senior year is all about future setting.”
Jean-Rose checked her wristwatch again, a rush of panic tightening her cheeks. “Guests are set to arrive in forty-five minutes—we need to find Ruth.”
The kids came out on the porch arguing, Teddy holding his sister by the ponytail, his sister gripping a doll.
“Teddy, all you do is terrorize your sister. Go to your room.” Jean-Rose pointed at the front door.
“Yeah,” said Anna. She crossed her skinny arms across her embroidered blouse.
The boy’s voice cracked. “But it’s my doll. She can’t just take my—”
“Now!” Jean-Rose yelled, slamming her champagne glass on the table. “I can’t believe Ruth is doing this to me. Thankfully, I had the good sense to cater, considering my housekeeper is nowhere to be found.”
Ted stood, patting his pocket for his keys, then pulling them out. “Relax, you’d think we were having a wedding. We’ll pick her up. Heddy and I will go.” With the grown-ups ignoring him, Teddy went out to the swing set.
In the car, Ted prattled on about his Yale days while Heddy took in the curvy roads, how they cut a path through the island’s rural center. Here, modest shuttered farmhouses, the paint peeling and chipped, gave way to lawns that looked craggy and dry with sun, the picket fencing in various states of disrepair. He told her of a party where he threw a mattress out a dormitory window, and the story he spun for the campus cop to get out of it, and while he made her laugh recounting the shenanigans, she considered that he wasn’t too different from the men she’d met at mixers at school. One of those silver-platter boys, entitled and aimless in conversation, purposeful only in getting to the part where he stuck his tongue in her mouth. She was glad to know him now, as the responsible family man, rather than the drunken frat boy.
They pulled into Ruth’s dirt driveway, parking outside the small ranch, the screen door unhinged at the top, hanging sideways, like it had been blown about in a storm. Ted parked a few car lengths away from the house, nodding her on. Heddy opened the screen door, which squeaked on its rusted hinge, and knocked.
A squat, flushed man who smelled like liquor and cigars opened the door, leering at her from the other side of the screen: “Well, Ruthie never told me her new friend was so pretty.” Inside, a couch with a gaping tear in the cushion was piled with laundry. A red-haired woman was sleeping in an armchair, snuggled under a crochet blanket, an oxygen tube in her nostrils.
“I’m Heddy.” She reached out her hand for a proper shake, but Ruth shoved the man aside, stepping outside and slamming the door behind her.
“Sorry about that.” Ruth picked a beer bottle off the step, tossed it in a can by the front bush.
Heddy forced a smile. “Is that your father?”
Ruth rolled her eyes, red and puffy from crying. “He’s pleasant, I know.” She crossed her arms, becoming interested in her cuticles. “Mom got sick last year.” She said it like it explained everything, but Heddy wasn’t sure what it explained at all.
“I’m sorry.”
Ruth shrugged. “It is what it is.” She noticed the car idling in the unpaved drive then, her cheeks turning ashen. “Jesus. I didn’t know Ted drove you.”
Heddy turned her back to the car and whispered. “He means well, that’s all. She’s freaking out. The luncheon is today, and she doesn’t trust me to mix the drinks. You need to come.”
“It’s my bike. I couldn’t fish it out of Sengekontacket Pond. The damn fool.” Ruth kicked the concrete steps. “Then my ride didn’t show up.”
Through the screened window, Heddy could hear the TV blaring, a laugh track bellowing out every time the actor delivered a punch line. The Honeymooners.
“You could ask Jean-Rose to borrow a bike.”
Ruth exhaled with force, like she was blowing birthday candles. “I’ll be right back.” From the steps, Heddy heard Ruth’s father yelling about “her fancy friends,” so Heddy got in the car, wanting to avoid any more unpleasantness. Ruth emerged in her apron.
“Sorry, Ted,” Ruth said, her childlike frame sinking deep in the back seat.
“A phone call next time, miss.” He emphasized “miss,” causing Ruth to look out the window, where a junked car bumper and loose tires were tangled in a garden hose. Ruth couldn’t fault him for worrying. The family had been expecting her, and she didn’t show; of course, they deserved a call. Heddy wondered if Ruth’s own father would notice if Ruth didn’t return home one night and whether that meant the Williams kept closer tabs on her than her own family.
“The operator said the lines are down,” Heddy said. “Half the island.”
Ted spat out the window. “That’s curious. We haven’t had a storm in weeks.” They drove on in silence, Ted puffing his cigar until they pulled into the drive, the neatly trimmed hedges calming her nerves. Perhaps it did the same for Ruth. The tidiness of the house, the gardens, the way their roles were so defined. Working in service made it easy at times to forget your own problems.
As he put the car in park, Ted said, “God dammit, girls. If she’s unhappy, I’m unhappy.”
At the sight of the car, Jean-Rose stopped pacing the porch, placing her hand to her forehead like she might faint. “Ruth, everyone is arriving in fifteen minutes.”
Ted eased back onto his porch seat. “Why do we care so much what everyone thinks?”
“Don’t razz me. Ruth needs to know how to serve the drinks.” She’d applied her makeup while they were gone, her cheeks thick with foundation and blush.
Ruth stepped behind the bar, threading her fine strawberry hair into a tight ponytail. “I’m sorry, really. Lime rickeys. I got it. A shot of gin in each highball. Go upstairs and change.”
Jean-Rose admired her, like she was her eldest-born child, and Heddy hoped Jean-Rose would come to see her as indispensable, too. “Oh, Ruth. You’re such a doll.”
Ruth squeezed the limes into a glass, a smile spreading across her face. “You want them passed?”
“On the sil
ver platters. Maybe Heddy can help.” Jean-Rose pranced inside.
The day was overcast, and it was cooler than the heat wave of the previous week. Still, Heddy planned to take the children to Vineyard Sound after lunch. Jean-Rose wanted them seated at the luncheon with the adults, which Heddy thought ludicrous but didn’t question. As her grandmother always said, “When it comes to work, put your head down and nod.” Anna and Teddy, now dressed in coordinating sailing suits, sat on the lush grass below the porch, their crayons and scrap paper spread around them.
At crunching footsteps in the driveway, Heddy looked up to find Ash Porter holding a shiny black briefcase. His tan sports jacket was cut short and slim in the latest fashion, and his navy tie, freshly brushed saddle shoes, and crisp white button-down shirt made him look like an advertisement. His hair rippled like a wave to his right temple.
“Ash Porter is here,” Heddy announced, hoping Ted didn’t notice the teenage pitch of her voice. Gun or not—the sight of him did something to her.
Ted folded his newspaper and handed it to her; she dashed upstairs to reapply her blush. On her way back out, she took a platter from Ruth holding two drinks with lime wedges. Ruth, noticing her lipstick, glared: “Don’t make a fool of yourself.”
Anna was already in Ash’s arms, Teddy pulling on his pants leg in that annoying way kids did when they wanted attention.
“Lime rickey, Mr. Porter.” Heddy handed him a tumbler.
“Please, it’s Ash.” He smiled, sipping the cocktail. It did feel strange to call him a formal name, since they were nearly the same age.
Ted signaled to the other glass. “That one for me? So useful, these college girls, aren’t they?” He winked.
Heddy logged his patronizing tone, looking pointedly at the children. “Let’s give Ash some space.” Only Anna followed her to the bar, where she stole a handful of orange slices. “Get Teddy and finish your pictures in the grass,” she told her. “I’ll be right down.”
“Not sure how it’s going to go with these two,” Ruth whispered, gesturing toward Ash and Ted.
“I thought they were friends.”
Ruth put four more glasses on the silver tray; another couple had arrived. “No, Ted and Jean-Rose are. I think she’s sweet on Ash.”
“But she’s so much older… and she and Ted are in love.”
“Are they?” Ruth said.
The porch grew crowded, a steady hum of chatter all around, while Heddy roved about serving lime rickeys. Edison, who they’d seen on his bike the day Heddy arrived, reached for a drink, introducing himself, “You must be Ted’s summer girl.”
It wasn’t how she’d characterize herself, but she smiled. “Nice to meet you,” she said, noting how physically fit he looked in his pressed white shorts, how fashionable his round white sunglasses.
Edison spun on his heels, looking back at her. “Don’t worry: Ted will take good care of you.” Heddy thought it an odd thing to say, but she nodded and moved about with her drink platter.
Standing at the center of a few women, Ash held up his finger to signal he wanted another, and she slowed, handing him a cocktail with the flourish, she imagined, of a Pan Am girl.
He softly elbowed her middle. “We were just talking about last night’s full moon. Did you see it?”
The expectant looks of strangers, their faces awash in polite smiles. She realized he wanted her to answer.
“I read by it longer than I should have,” Heddy said.
A disgruntled sigh. “It kept me up half the night—I hate the full moon,” said a squat coed whose pug nose gave her the look of those stubby dogs that waddled down uptown sidewalks.
“Thank God for blackout curtains,” joked a wispy middle-aged woman, tight curls crowding her head.
“I find it rather mysterious, actually.” Heddy looked to Ash to make sure disagreeing was okay, and he moved aside, allowing her to step into the circle. “I like to stare at it, the ridges and craters,” she continued. “It makes me wonder what I look like from up there. What John Glenn saw when he looked down at us.”
“What Glenn saw was a wonder.” Ash smiled.
“He’s lucky that thing didn’t explode. I would never do such a ridiculous thing as shoot myself up over the earth.” It was the woman with the nose.
Heddy longed to sip one of the drinks on her platter, like she was a guest, but she didn’t think Jean-Rose would like that. She straightened as Ted came over. “To circle the earth like that, to see us all as we’ve never seen ourselves…,” she said.
Ted threw an arm around Ash, his eyebrows in sharp angles at Heddy. He peeked over the side of the porch, where the children, on a picnic blanket in the grass, colored. “We’re all set here, Heddy.”
She snapped her mouth shut, curtsied awkwardly, and nodded vigorously, like an actress told she no longer had a part. “Excuse me,” Heddy managed, still holding the platter. She longed for him to act fatherly to her—take an interest in what she was saying or introduce her to someone he thought she’d liked to know. But to him, she was the help.
“Sorry about that,” Ted told the guests.
Had he apologized for her presence? She’d assumed she should be quiet unless spoken to, but Ash had engaged with her. She didn’t want to be rude. Maybe she hadn’t had to go on quite so much about the moon, but still.
At the bar, Ruth mouthed “I told you,” sending a ping of shame through Heddy. She wanted to explain, but then Anna started to scream. Teddy was trying to write on her with black crayon, forcing Heddy to snatch it away.
“Let’s have a drawing contest.” Heddy rushed to redirect them, dabbing Anna’s eyes with the corner of her dress. They were sitting close enough to the porch she could hear the guests talking, and everyone could hear Jean-Rose, with the way her voice carried out over the crowd.
“Ash, we’re so happy you agreed to do your presentation here,” said Jean-Rose, dressed in a blush-colored, collared sheath and matching wide-brimmed hat.
Ash kissed her on the cheek, her lipstick leaving a pretty smear of red on his cheek in return. “You shouldn’t have worked so hard. You set a beautiful table.”
She shot Ted a look, batting her false eyelashes, and he shrugged.
“You’re making me look bad. She was in a tizzy all morning I didn’t remark on it.”
The trio laughed heartily, and Jean-Rose slipped off to welcome someone else.
Ted led Ash to the front of the porch, where a long rectangular table sat twelve. “You take the head, sir.”
They seemed quite chummy; apparently, Ruth was wrong.
A plume of Chanel Nº5 enveloping her, Jean-Rose leaned over the railing where Heddy was sitting in the grass. “Heddy, will you be a dear and help Ruth serve the drinks?”
“Ted sent me away.” Although, he hadn’t told her to go to the children. She did that on her own.
Jean-Rose’s lips drew a tight line of red. “Don’t listen to Ted. Our guests need drinks.”
“Of course, I’m coming.” Heddy raced up the porch steps, hoping Teddy stayed immersed in his drawing of the ugliest monster he could think of.
Ruth mixed drinks into several glasses, arranging them on platters. She wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. “Didn’t you see me waving you over? I can’t mix and serve.”
“I’m sorry. Ted said—”
“Ted doesn’t know his ass from his elbow when it comes to entertaining. Here.” Ruth placed the platter in Heddy’s arms.
The women stood in tight groups making small talk, while the men sat at the table smoking cigars with Ted. She wondered who Emily Post would serve first: the men or the women? Heddy stepped in the direction of the cigar smoke.
Ted patted a friend on the back. “Ernie, we need you at the Big Top. Things are a bit hairy right now, but don’t believe the papers. It’s temporary.”
The conversation turned serious; men huddled over their collective anxiety about the markets. Heddy’s tray empty, Ruth handed her a fresh set to de
liver. Jean-Rose tapped her on the back, pressing Anna’s hand into Heddy’s. Anna was bawling, the front of her dress soaked. She’d had an accident.
“I thought you could do both.” Jean-Rose’s smile was all Miss America, but Heddy felt how hard she pressed Anna’s hand into hers.
Despite her wet bottom, Heddy picked her up, pee staining her waist. “I’m sorry, I was serving, like you said.”
Jean-Rose smoothed the front of her dress. “Change her, please. Lunch service is about to begin.”
One of Jean-Rose’s friends sidled up to her, and Heddy heard her say: “Oh, Lila, sometimes I feel like I have two more children. These girls, they’re…”
Out came a snort. “Service isn’t what it used to be. But you get what you pay for. They’re hourly girls, right?”
Heddy’s jaw tightened. Is this what she was to these women peacocking in their pastel-colored cocktail dresses—nothing but a punch line in a joke about the help. An “hourly girl”? The thought cut like a razor, and for the first time, it made her resent these women in updos and strappy sandals. If Heddy ever had money, she’d never make anyone feel like less because they worked in service. Her mother taught her to be thankful for any kindness the world showed her, and the two of them often listed three things they were grateful for over breakfast each morning, no matter how hard times were. She wondered what Jean-Rose was more grateful for—having two beautiful children, or having two servants, even “hourly” ones? Sadly, she guessed the answer was the latter.
Encouraging the kids to the house, she passed Ruth. “Can you cover me? I have to change Anna’s clothes.”
Pinching her cheeks for color, Ruth emerged from behind the bar, the corners of her eyes damp. “You can’t tell I was crying, right?”
“No. You look great.” She couldn’t tell Ruth the rims of her eyes were still red.
Ruth arranged the drinks on the tray and was off while Heddy carried Anna up into her bedroom, Teddy running ahead up the stairs.
“Why was Ruth crying?” Anna asked. Heddy pulled her dress overhead and slipped a new striped frock on her.
“She wasn’t.”
Summer Darlings Page 6