Summer Darlings

by Brooke Lea Foster

  “See? All better.” He grinned, and she nearly jumped into his arms.

  The Surf Shack’s large marquee sign was a few buildings up on Main Street. The white clapboard had been painted with a giant blue wave. They found a spot near Ocean Park and walked up to the take-out window, where customers could order “the Maine, a quarter-pound cold lobster roll, with knuckle, claw, and tail chunks mixed in mayo” or “the Connecticut, a quarter-pound lobster roll, with warm, buttered knuckle, claw, and tail meat chunks.”

  “We’ll take two Maine specials,” Ash told the teenager working the counter. “And two lemonades.”

  He carried the tray with their food to one of the navy picnic tables, but the dinner rush was in full swing, so they had to squeeze in with a group of high school girls. Heddy heard one of them whisper: “Isn’t she lucky?”

  “Ready?” he said, holding the lobster roll to his mouth. They toasted the buns like champagne, then tore away enormous bites.

  “It’s the best thing I’ve eaten all summer,” she said.

  “And I know you’d tell me the truth if you didn’t like it, that honest face of yours.” He handed her a lemonade, and she sipped, looking out over the heads of the patrons to the street, where a barber shop pole spun red, white, and blue.

  But she wasn’t being truthful; she’d lied to him, like she was lying to everyone else, and she hated herself for it. Her shirt grew hot and stifling at the thought of telling him how deep her financial problems went. If he came to Brooklyn and met her mother and saw the rooming house, what would he think of her? Being around Jean-Rose and Ted all summer had tricked him into thinking she lived in the same glossy magazine spread simply by association. Here, he saw her drive a convertible, twirl in designer dresses, and chat up a movie star. At home, there would be a throw arranged to cover the large hole in the couch, and the requisite mouse running along the floorboards. She was pretending to be a Wellesley girl, an aspiring writer. What rubbish. And while she’d discarded her shame about the past, she realized she was still embarrassed by the present.

  Heddy put her lobster roll on the plate. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.” The words trickled out like a slow leak.

  He took another bite. “How so?”

  “Well…” She cleared her throat, pushing her shoulders back in an act of pride. “I lost my scholarship at school, and I can’t go back. My mother and I will get an apartment. Perhaps by Coney Island. Wouldn’t that be fun? There’s a shipbuilding factory nearby that is hiring, and I can work my way up. Maybe be secretary. Or, maybe a nice family will give me a job as a domestic.”

  Ash set his lobster roll back on his plate. “But you want to be a writer or a teacher. And you can find another way to go to school. You can always find a way to get money.”

  A jarring cackle slipped out. “See, that’s the funny part, Ash. I’m not a magician, and I know I sound like my mother now, but money doesn’t grow on trees. I’m out of options.” The corners of her eyes grew moist, and her face crumpled. She was ruining their date. Ruining it. But a dam broke open inside of her, and the pain she’d held in over the past few weeks came flooding out.

  She felt Ash hugging her, and she folded into him, because that’s what she needed: to be held.

  “Heddy, listen.” He tried to lift her chin, but she kept her head down, embarrassed to be making a scene, hearing the teenage girls’ whispers. “Heddy, I can help you. We’ll find a way,” he said.

  “Stop saying, ‘We,’ like we’re in this together. We’re not in this together.”

  He crouched down below her, so he could peek at her face. “But maybe we are.”

  That she might marry someone her equal, who needed her as much as she needed him, was a different way to think about marriage. Was it even possible that someone else would join her life, that there could ever be a “we” other than her and her mother? She knew there’d be a day when she’d lose her mother, and that she’d be alone then. But imagine having someone else, a backup—a life partner.

  “Let’s start with the numbers,” he said. He pulled out a small black notebook and pencil and flipped to a blank page. “What are your expenses?”

  She supposed the telling of it wouldn’t hurt. “Well, tuition and board is two thousand five hundred. A deposit for an apartment for my mother is around one hundred, then there’s incidentals. Books are one hundred and necessities”—she didn’t want to say maxi pads, toothpaste, long-distance calls home—“that’s maybe fifty.”

  “For the year? You can get by on nothing.” He ran his pen through the $100 for her mom’s apartment. “Take this off your plate. She’d be upset if you didn’t return to school for this.” Heddy knew he was right, so she didn’t object. “How much do you have?”

  She bit her bottom lip. “About seven hundred dollars.”

  Ash tapped the pencil against his teeth: “I would sell Jean-Rose’s eternity bracelet. The black market will fetch you a nice price.”

  Heddy smacked his shoulder, and he was pleased he’d made her laugh. “I told you, I’m not that kind of girl.”

  He took another bite of his lobster roll, then fed her a bite. His eyes were shiny. “When I was a kid, we had a nanny, but we were in school and didn’t get home until three. You can put out an advertisement, in the Boston Globe—I’ll help you—that offers your services: Afternoon and night nanny. Then you can take classes during the day and study when the children are asleep. It would save you expenses on paying for a dorm room. You’d have a salary.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “That’s just one idea,” he said, thumbing her chin. “You could ask someone for a loan. Ted Williams, for instance. Or Gigi? Or me.”

  She kissed him deeply, right there, without even considering the people around her, feeling his kiss all the way down to her toes. She would never ask him for a loan; the thought of it mortified her. But a hardness in her chest softened when Ash said he’d help her, that he trusted her to pay him back, that he cared about her that much. The offer was kind, but more than that, it made her realize how true his intentions were. He wouldn’t sleep with her, shove her problems in her face, and wish her well. He wanted to help.

  * * *

  The bonfire at the beach later that night kept them warm as they sipped wine out of a thermos. They watched the dance of the flames, for how long she didn’t know, and they made it again, this time slower. Around 2:00 a.m., he walked her home, kissing her one last time by the kitchen door.

  “Wait,” she told him. She left him outside, silently opening the kitchen door and moving soundlessly through the living room and up the stairs to Teddy’s room. The child’s mouth was agape while he slept, the moonlight casting a ribbon of light across his bed. His closet door creaked as she felt her way to the back and grasped the slithery bracelet resting on Miss Pinkie’s head. With it tucked in her palm, Heddy moved quietly down the steps and back into the cool night air.

  Ash smiled at her, and she held a finger up to her lips while cupping his hands around the hidden bracelet. She kissed the top of his hand.

  “It’s as good as done,” he whispered.

  She watched him disappear into the beach path, and with Ruth asleep in her bed, she clicked on the light in the bathroom and opened her journal:

  Dear Ash,

  Do I love you because I feel protected by you—or do I love you because all the women on the island think you’re the biggest catch and still you want me? Does it matter? I could see you trimming the turkey on Christmas and my mother asking you to fix a leaky sink. You could be the man who we never had around but desperately wished for. Is it crazy to think that you’re already mine? Is it crazy to believe that we’ll leave this island together?

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Anna pushed the beef Wellington around her plate with a fork. It was family day that Tuesday at the club, and the children, dressed in formal wear, were required to dine on grown-up fare.

&nbs
p; “Please eat it, Anna,” Heddy pleaded, but the girl turned up her nose.

  For how much Jean-Rose spoke of it, the club wasn’t all that fancy, nothing more than a simple, cedar-shingled rectangle set a few hundred feet back from the ocean. In the white-walled dining room, rows of black-and-white photographs featured group shots of members from every summer season since 1934. A mahogany wooden bar, running the back length of the room, was glossy and polished, framed with bright, colorful sailing flags.

  Heddy and the children sat on wicker-style chairs in the stifling un-air-conditioned dining room, white cloth napkins in their laps. Little boys in navy ties teased little girls in poufs of satin, and whether the kids’ manners matched their outfits was debatable. A little girl in stiff pink crinoline sat next to Anna, encouraging her to steal the olives from Heddy’s martini to wedge into her eyes.

  “You need to eat something,” Heddy begged.

  Anna covered her mouth with her hands, so Heddy buttered her another dinner roll.

  A woman’s voice came over the microphone, thanking everyone for coming. Heddy looked for Jean-Rose and found her sitting at a corner table, an empty seat where Ted should have been, clinking her gin and tonic against a friend’s, laughing when their glasses hit too hard and splashed.

  “Everyone, let’s head outside for a swim,” the announcer hollered. Chairs scooted back, the clang of silverware as it fell on dinner plates, as everyone rushed into the locker rooms to change.

  A few steps down from the dining room there was a large slate patio with a built-in saltwater pool. White loungers outfitted with orange cushions surrounded it, each family with their own navy-and-white-striped cabana, their name displayed on a small sign. Jean-Rose waved to Heddy when she stepped outside with the children in tow. A cabana boy set a fresh towel on each of their chairs.

  “Now where’s Ted?” Jean-Rose stood on tiptoe, watching for him in the stream of people coming out of the dining room. He emerged with Edison, his hair slicked smooth from his forehead. Teddy ran to his father, who scooped him, nodding to Edison, who strode away to his own family.

  Ted lowered Teddy and lit a cigar, the smell of maple and tobacco thick in the air.

  Jean-Rose gritted her teeth. “Where were you?” Thirty seconds of silence passed. Then: “You promised me. People are talking.”

  Heddy pretended not to listen, helping the kids into the pool.

  “I feel bad for the guy,” Ted hissed, puffing on his cigar. He beamed at a woman walking toward them in a black halter one-piece bathing suit. “Susanne Kenner. Now where have you been?”

  Jean-Rose whipped around.

  “What’s wrong, Jeannie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Susanne chirped.

  Ted sat next to another man, this one in thick black glasses. “I’ll leave the two of you to it.”

  Jean-Rose looked like she’d been slapped across the face. “A bit under the weather, I suppose.”

  They ducked into the cabana, and Heddy could hear them gossiping about people she didn’t know. She listened, watching the kids swim.

  Jean-Rose popped her head out. “Heddy, do you mind running to our locker to get my beach cover-up?”

  She rose and went inside, coming face-to-face with Sullivan near the locker room doors. She tried to dodge him, feeling strange, but they’d locked eyes. He put his hand on her elbow, pulling her behind a payphone stall.

  “Why haven’t you called me back?” he asked, pushing his hands into his khakis. “I thought we had fun.”

  “We did. I just, I got distracted.” She didn’t want to say that she couldn’t stop thinking about someone else.

  “With him. I knew it.” Sullivan folded his arms.

  She stared at her flats. “I like you, Sullivan, you know that.”

  “But not as much as him, huh?” He looked out the window, where someone yelled “cannonball” and jumped into the pool. “What is it about him? He’s not right for you—I know he’s not.”

  “I dunno.” He’s adventurous but not irresponsible; he’s financially secure but not moneyed; he believes in me and wants to help me. He makes me feel…

  “I don’t actually want an answer,” he snapped. “There’s things about him, things you don’t know.”

  She felt like a python, ready to strike. “You don’t think I’m good enough for him, do you? Well, then I’m not good enough for you, either.”

  She stormed to the locker room doors, but he met her there and spun her around. “You’re better than he deserves, better than both of us deserve. But for the record, I believe in us. It’s you who doesn’t.” The words sounded hollow and sad; he knew he couldn’t win, yet he was trying.

  “Well, you have your hands full with your engagement, Sully-love.”

  He parted his lips, about to speak, then stopped himself. He ducked out the front door, and she watched him go, wondering, not for the first time, if she should walk away from someone as rich and cultured as Sullivan Rhodes. But the heart couldn’t be controlled or pressured, cajoled or pushed—it beat in the direction of whoever it loved most. She watched him speed off in his car, knowing he would hate her for a long time, and that anger would make it easier for him to forget her.

  When she got into the locker room, she was so distracted that she forgot the locker combination. She returned to the Williamses’ cabana, coming up behind the structure. Inside, she could see the dark outline of the two women, facing each other in loungers. She was surprised to hear her name.

  “She’s driving me nuts if you must know the truth, insisting on going to that party.” Jean-Rose puffed on her cigarette. “And do you know Ash walked over with my eternity bracelet? Said he found it on the beach. What a cowinkiedink. If the kids didn’t love her…”

  “Sally said she strutted around like who-she-thought-she-was in that dress. Nothing more than a bored actress’s pet project.”

  “The actress we won’t let in the Island Club.” Jean-Rose cackled. “Thank goodness I stopped Irv from signing off on that. Anyway, you should have seen her. The dress, the two-hundred-dollar shoes, and then her cheap pearls. She has no idea about Ash, either, staring at him all weepy-eyed like they’re falling in love.”

  Susanne snickered. “Little does she know that he’s got a little something for everyone on this island.” They erupted in laughter. “I’ve warned my nephew. Steer clear.”

  “Can you believe she’s been sneaking out to meet him?”

  “Sullivan?”

  Jean-Rose smacked Susanne’s shoulder. “No, Ash. I haven’t said anything because I could care less if she screws up her life. If she’s up to watch the kids every morning, that little tart can roll around with whoever she wants.” Jean-Rose howled, and Susanne hooted along. “Is she coming?”

  They stopped talking, and Jean-Rose must have peeked out of the cabana.

  Heddy hurried back into the locker room, barreling into an empty shower stall smelling of bleach, a lump balling in her throat. He has a little something for everyone on this island. She thought of Mount Vesuvius and how it blew its top, fire spewing out everywhere, sudden and violently. And she worried that she might do the same thing. But then the lump in her throat turned to a searing pain in her chest. She began to tremble, her eyes stinging, and then came the tears.

  That little tart. Did he have something on the side? With Jean-Rose? With Susanne? Why would they even care about someone like Ash? Or worse, what if she was the side dish and one of them was the main course?

  Heddy kicked the white-tiled wall of the shower stall, her mother’s voice popping into her head: “Hibernia Rawley Winsome, what did you do?” The answer: exactly what she’d set out not to do. She fell for someone who wasn’t serious in his intentions. She opened up to him, and she didn’t even know him. She had no idea how he spent the rest of his week, how many women he brought back to his fishing cottage. Hadn’t she known this in her heart of hearts when he tried to tell her something on the boat? The tears were streaming down her face now,
and she smacked them away, pressing her cheek against the shower tiles for support. She had to pull herself together, get back to the cabana. She’d dive in the pool with the kids, finish her job for the day. But as soon as she got back home, she would go straight to Ash’s house. She’d slam her fist into his cheek.

  And Sullivan. She’d hurt Sullivan for him.

  Heddy turned on the shower’s cold water, splashed her face. She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, letting the air massage the pain in her chest.

  That little tart.

  She would not be made a fool of by Ash or Jean-Rose. Heddy looked at her puffy red eyes, smiling as big as she could and smacking her cheeks like Gigi would. “Go get ’em, Brooklyn,” she said.

  Heddy returned to the women in the cabana, her chest tight, like a subway car was sitting on her, and announced that she forgot the combination.

  Jean-Rose sighed like she was waiting on a long line. “I asked you for the simplest of things… to go in my locker and fetch me my—”

  “Maybe you’d rather I get you my cheap pearls instead?” Heddy barked, and Jean-Rose and Susanne exchanged shocked looks. “You said you liked my pearls, and I actually believed you.”

  The color in Jean-Rose’s face drained, and she and Susanne became interested in looking around at everyone else at the pool except Heddy until Jean-Rose tapped Susanne on the shoulder.

  “Let’s get Bellinis at the bar,” she said. The women were a couple of loungers away when they collapsed against each other with laughter.

  Heddy dove into the deep end and swam with long strokes toward the shallow side, where Teddy and Anna were playing. They climbed on her back, begging her to give them rides. Every few minutes, she’d leave the kids and push off the pool wall, not coming up for air until she reached the other side. Someday, she would come up for air from all of this.

  Jean-Rose avoided her the rest of the day, and by the time they had all showered, changed, and brushed their hair into neat side parts, it was late afternoon. The family piled into the Bonneville, the top up against the impending rain, and headed home. As the car meandered out of the scrub pine forest, Heddy listened to Jean-Rose chatting away to Ted, like she was the happiest girl in the world: a renovation on the Schwartz’s house that went awry, how Angela’s husband had to go back to the city because his mutual fund was failing. “I feel terrible for them,” Jean-Rose said.