Heat Wave (3 page)

Gus interrupted. “Carley knows that. I’ve told her all that. She’s not a dunce and she’s not a fortune hunter or whatever you want to call it. We love each other, and we love the idea of raising a family on the island. She’s met my friends. They love her. I’ve taken her through the house. We’ve talked about fixing it up—Carley has wonderful ideas. She can do much of the work herself. She can paint. She can hang wallpaper.”

At those words, Annabel went white. “The
house
.” She put her elegant hand to her chest, as if her heart hurt. “Gus, that is my family’s house. It’s historic. It should be restored by someone with knowledge and the proper skills.”

“Come on, Mom, it’s a wonderful old house, but it’s not Monticello. You and Dad promised it to me when I got married. I’m getting married. Carley and I will raise our children there.”

Annabel turned to her husband, her expression a silent cry for help.

Russell cleared his throat. “Perhaps there is some other way to resolve this. Perhaps a sum of money—”

Gus’s voice growled out low and threatening. “Don’t you dare.”

Both Russell and Annabel drew up, clearly startled at their son’s tone.

“This is your grandchild we’re talking about,” Gus reminded
them. “This dinner is meant to be an announcement and a celebration.”

Annabel tried to smooth the troubled waters. “If you are happy, Gus, then so are we. It’s just that it’s all happened so fast.”

“I am happy, Mom,” Gus assured her. “Happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”

Carley and Gus married quietly and settled into the Greenwood house like a pair of nesting birds settling into an enormous drafty box. Carley and Gus hung wallpaper and Gus painted while Carley sewed up curtains for the baby’s room. They went to movies and parties with friends. They bought furniture, they bought pots and pans, and Gus’s belt tightened from eating Carley’s delicious food.

Then Carley went into a long, difficult, agonizing labor and gave birth to their first daughter, Cisco. Carley was no longer the unmotivated drifting airhead of her family. She had her
own
family. She was the wife of a lawyer, the mother of a baby girl, the chatelaine of a historic house, a member of the Winsted clan, and a resident of an island thirty miles out at sea.

When Cisco was born, Annabel and Russell took one look at her tiny face and melted with love. In the hospital, holding the infant, they both wept tears of joy. Later, Annabel brought over a variety of gourmet casseroles for Carley and Gus and joyfully did endless loads of baby laundry while Russell went to the pharmacy and the grocery store.

One morning while Carley was tucked up on the sofa with the infant sleeping in her arms, Annabel curled up in the chair opposite and gazed upon mother and child, her face radiant with adoration.

“You
are
a clever girl,” Annabel praised Carley. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful child in my life. Carley, please forgive me for being so damnably mean when we first heard you were pregnant. I had no idea how much I would adore this little child, and you brought her to us.”

“Thanks, Annabel.” Carley shifted on the sofa, trying to get comfortable. “I had no idea how much I’d love her, either.”

“She’s just so completely bewitching.” Annabel leaned forward, love-struck.

Carley chuckled. “I don’t suppose your opinion has anything to do with the fact that Cisco has the black hair and eyes and pale skin of the Winsted clan, does it?”

Annabel pressed her hand to her chest in mock surprise. “How could you suggest such a thing?” she teased lightly, then admitted, “Of course it does. I’m wild about Russell’s coloring, and thrilled that Gus has it, and over the moon that my granddaughter has it.” She cocked her head and offered brightly, “I do think Cisco has your nose.”

After that, Carley and Annabel became comrades, devoted to the baby, satellites revolving around the sun that was Cisco. When Carley was pregnant again, she and Gus learned from the ultrasound the baby was female. When they told Russell and Annabel, Carley sensed the very slightest moment of disappointment that the baby was not a boy. At once, Annabel lightened the atmosphere, crying out, “Oh, thank heavens! I have so much fun buying little-girl clothing!” And when Margaret arrived, she and Russell both adored the new girl as much as they adored Cisco.

Annabel was a forceful personality. Yet over the years, Annabel managed to be available for emergencies, parties, little treats and surprises, without ever intruding on Gus and Carley, without ever attempting to manipulate or steer their lives. Carley sensed this took some amount of self-restraint on Annabel’s part, and she was grateful.

• • • • •

G
us had died, quickly, one evening in his office. The small law firm was housed in a handsome old brick Greek Revival house on Centre Street. Russell usually walked there from his brick home a few blocks away on Main Street, stopping to chat with shopkeepers along the way. It was a fifteen-minute walk for Gus from his house, but it was cold the day he died, so he’d driven. When he hadn’t come home for dinner that terrible night, Carley had called Russell, who had returned to the building and found his body.

Carley had already fed the girls and sent them off to their rooms. She’d been mildly anxious about Gus but more pissed off that he’d be so late for dinner. She paced the house, waiting for Russell to call. Instead, there was a knock on the door.

Carley found her father-in-law standing there, pale, confused.

“Gus.”
Russell could scarcely speak.

Behind him, a police car pulled up to the curb and the police chief, a friend of the Winsteds, stepped out.

“Heart attack,” Russell gasped.

Her first reaction was a rush of adrenaline, a frantic sense of dread and urgency, a need to
move
, as if she could still prevent it if only she
did something
. She wanted to push Russell aside, to rush down to the office, to get to her husband.

“I’ll go to the office.” She tried to pass Russell, who blocked the doorway.

“Honey, we’ve already phoned an ambulance and the coroner.” Russell stood very straight in his suit and dark wool coat, but he was trembling.

Carley bit her lip to hold back her anger. Gus belonged to her and her daughters! How dare Russell—her thoughts derailed. Oh, her
daughters
, whose father was
gone
! She slammed to her knees with terror.

Kellogg, the police chief, approached through the darkness into the light of the front hall. His uniform and grizzled face provided a welcome sense of authority. Bending, he took Carley’s shoulders and gently helped her stand. “I’m sorry, Carley. This is a terrible thing. Let’s get Russell inside. Let’s all have some brandy.”

Numbed, grateful to be told what to do, Carley led Russell into the living room. They sat on the sofa while Russell spoke about finding Gus dead at his desk. Chief Kellogg brought them each a glass of brandy. Carley could only stare at hers.

“Mommy?” Cisco and Margaret had come downstairs and stood in the doorway to the living room, looking curious and so vulnerable in their pajamas that Carley’s heart broke for them.

Cisco asked, “What’s going on?”

“Oh, girls …” Carley set her glass on the coffee table and walked over to her daughters. She knelt before them, taking their hands in hers. She looked into their deep, beautiful eyes, their ebony Winsted eyes. Their father’s eyes. “Daddy died. He had a heart attack. He was in his office. Your grandfather found him. Chief—”

“No!” Cisco wrenched her hand away from her mother’s. “I don’t believe you! I want to see him! Where is he?”

Chief Kellogg answered, his voice low. “He’s at the hospital now.”

“Let’s go there!” Cisco’s eyes were wide. “Maybe they’ve done CPR.”

Russell rose from the couch and approached his granddaughters. He bent toward them. “Cisco. Honey, I found your daddy. I saw him. I called an ambulance and the police. They did try to resuscitate him. They tried all possible means.”

“Mommy.” Margaret’s high voice trembled. “I don’t want Daddy to be dead.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Carley pulled Margaret against her. Her younger daughter was crying, obviously frightened and confused, but also seeking and receiving the consolation of her mother’s embrace. Cisco, Carley feared, was going into shock. Her fists were clenched, and her jaw shuddered.

Carley looked at Chief Kellogg. “Could we phone Dr. Kunadra and ask him to come over?”

Kellogg nodded once, abruptly, and pulled out his cell.

Russell offered, “Cisco, come sit with me.”

Cisco didn’t move. She couldn’t
seem
to move.

Kellogg said to Carley’s father-in-law, “Russell. We have to tell Annabel.”

“Dear God.” Russell’s face sagged. He staggered backward, just slightly, and Carley reached out for him.

“Cisco, take Granddad’s hand,” Carley quietly demanded.

Cisco’s paralysis broke. She took Russell’s hand and led him into the living room. Carley followed, settling on the sofa, holding Margaret on her lap, and wrapping her free arm around Cisco.

“Shall I go get Annabel?” Kellogg asked.

“I’ll go,” Russell said. “I have to be the one to tell her. Then we’ll come back here.”

“I don’t think you should drive,” Kellogg warned. “I’ll take you.”

Russell looked at Carley and the girls.

“We’ll be all right,” she said, just as a knock sounded on the door and Sunjay Kunadra, their physician, entered.

Russell and Chief Kellogg left. With infinitely soft hands, Sunjay took Carley’s pulse and ordered her to drink some of the brandy. Margaret asked him to take her pulse, too, and he did, pronouncing her perfect. Sunjay took a seat, pinching the crease in his expensive trousers as he did, and in a gentle voice, asked who he could call. Carley had trouble thinking, but Cisco said at once, “Maud. Vanessa.”

Margaret added, “And Wyatt. He’s Daddy’s best friend.”

Sunjay made the calls. He sat across from Carley and her daughters and explained in his mild, scientific manner that Gus had had a heart attack. They would do an autopsy to find out the cause. Sometimes these things just happened.

Time lurched forward. Chief Kellogg, Russell, and Annabel came into the house. Annabel, elegant in a blue sweater and slacks, was rigid with self-control, but when she saw her granddaughters, a small cry burst from her throat and she stumbled. Her husband helped her to the sofa.

“Go to her,” Carley whispered to her daughters. Cisco and Margaret obeyed, wrapping their grandmother tightly in their arms.

Wyatt arrived from his house in Madaket. He made more phone calls. Vanessa and Maud came, hugging Carley and the girls. Everyone was weeping. The immediate protection of shock faded; the air of the room was thick with grief, with misery. Annabel’s self-restraint dissolved, and a terrible wail broke from her. Margaret fled back to Carley’s arms and even Cisco looked frightened.

“Let’s make hot chocolate for everyone,” Carley told her girls, leading them from the room as Russell cradled his wife against him. The three went into the kitchen together and with an almost ceremonial rhythm measured the milk, stirred in the cocoa and sugar, heated the pan, and poured the liquid into the cups. Cisco, older and stronger, carried in the tray with the cups. Margaret carried her favorite bunny teapot full of hot chocolate.

By midnight, everyone left. Carley brought the girls into her bed, and watched them until they fell asleep, which wasn’t long, because they were completely exhausted with grief. She took the sleep medication Sunjay had given her.

Over the next few days, the world went on.

Her family had come up to help, all of them, her father, mother, sister, and Sarah’s partner, Sue. They’d been efficient and loving. They’d taken Cisco and Margaret off to the beach or to the library or simply for a walk, to get them away from the suddenly saddened house. They made coffee and food for the many good friends who showed up to express their surprise and their sorrow, to offer help.
They arranged the funeral, talked with the minister, cooked for the reception, thanked those who brought hams and quiches and desserts, lugged in cases of sparkling water and juice and wine, and cleaned up the explosion of glasses and plates left scattered around the house afterward.

When her parents returned to their home in East Laurence, they took Carley and her daughters with them for the Christmas season. It was the custom for Carley and her family to go to her parents’ every other year, and this year they did as always, driving into Manhattan to see the tree at Rockefeller Center, strolling the streets to gaze in the amazing shop windows. This year, of course, the holiday was muted for them, surreal, uncomfortable. They felt awkward together, awkward alone. They gave presents, but didn’t know whether to be happy about them. They didn’t know how to have Christmas dinner without Gus at the table. They didn’t know how to
be
.

It was good to return home at the end of December. Just unpacking in their own rooms brought a sense of normality to Carley and her daughters. They still mourned and talked daily of missing Daddy, but their lives were going on. Cisco continued with ballet. Margaret played dolls with Molly. Carley said prayers of thanks every day to Gus, for her daughters, and for their home, their true shelter against the storm.

Their house, which had once been Annabel’s family’s house, was large and built to last where it stood on a cliff overlooking Nantucket Sound. The front and back gardens were spacious, fenced, and planted with climbing roses, honeysuckle, hydrangea, and lots of bushes for hiding behind. Her friends liked gathering at Carley’s, to sit on her wide porch while the children played games in the garden. In rainy or cold weather, the children could run shrieking up and down the stairs and especially into the attic, while the mommies sat in the kitchen drinking tea or wine, telling secrets.

This house was hers, free and clear. The mortgage was paid off. With her father at her side, she had attended the reading of Gus’s will, the contents of which she already knew, since Gus had talked
it over with her when he made it. He left everything to her, the house, his money, his life insurance.