Summer Harbor (20 page)

“Not at all.” Mind? Of course she minded. As long as the sale of the house was more or less abstract, she could imagine it wouldn’t take place. If the interlopers had faces, she couldn’t pretend it wouldn’t happen. Childishness, Kiley knew, but her own brand of childishness. “The items marked with orange aren’t included in the sale, and I haven’t inventoried everything.”

“We’re just looking at the structure today.” Toby held the double screen door wide for the couple, who seemed reluctant to break the linking of their arms. Kiley thought, rather unkindly, that Mrs. Fenster was holding Mr. Fenster up. Or else, preventing him from running away. She smiled to herself.
Fenster—
a name like that would make the first cut at the club.

She should have had her bathing suit on; it was a perfect beach day. Too late to turn around and go back to get it, so it seemed an aimless walk was the only option left to her. She could go visiting, except that there was no one she could just drop in on anymore. That wasn’t quite true. She did know one person she could call on—probably should call on—Mrs. MacKenzie. Hadn’t Conor said she should?

Kiley was halfway there. She could simply walk up on the MacKenzies’ back porch and hallooo in the way she used to as a girl. Mrs. MacKenzie had always been nice to her, lingering with her in the kitchen as she waited for the boys to come home from their jobs, or change into their bathing suits. They’d sip lemonade and chat about girlie things, things her boys would never chat about. As much as she loved them, Kiley did sometimes complain a little, eliciting Mrs. MacKenzie’s soft laughter and commiseration that neither one would go shopping or give a helpful opinion about clothes.

Kiley knew that she should just do it. Go knock on the door and explain that she had Will, and he might be their grandson. Could she muster that sort of courage? By now Conor might have told them about Will. Or had he kept that unproven information to himself? He’d suggested she greet his parents
before
he knew about Will. What was best for his parents, to know or not to know? At the intersection of Linden and Overlook, Kiley turned left, toward town and away from the MacKenzies’ house.

It seemed the better choice, to keep going. Besides, as long as she was this close to the village, she might as well pick up the things she needed for dinner. That way she wouldn’t have to go all the way into Great Harbor later, even if she’d pay a premium price for it at LaRiviere’s Market.

Main Street was cluttered with day-trippers, shopping bags swinging, filled with souvenirs of their visit to a pleasant place. Kiley had to dodge the ones who simply stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, as if alone in the world. She had to step off the sidewalk to avoid the side-by-side strollers, barricading the way with sheer American bulk. When they were kids, they used to make rude remarks to the day-trippers. In the hierarchy of year-rounders, day-trippers were on the lowest rung, followed by the one-week or two-week vacationers. Kiley was only just above that as a summer kid.

“Kiley Harris!” A woman’s voice called out to her from the doorway of a shop.

Kiley stopped, already certain she knew who it was. “Emily?”

“I missed talking to you at the picnic.”

Pleased that she’d guessed the correct twin, Kiley took in the sight of Emily Claridge, noting her rather middle-aged attire of yellow, green, and pink Lilly Pulitzer skirt and sleeveless blouse, the Nantucket basket handbag slung over one arm. Her blond hair, once free-swinging and rather pretty, was a solid helmet streaked by chemicals, not the sun. A huge emerald-cut diamond flashed in the sunlight as she reached out to grasp Kiley’s arm.

“…just thrilled to death to see you. You haven’t changed a bit.”

Rather than lie, Kiley shifted focus. “Are you still here all summer?”

“I wish. Ralph is too busy in his practice to take too much time off and I hate being separated from him, so we come for two weeks in July and two in August.”

“Is Ralph a doctor?”

“No, no. Attorney. Has his own firm.”

“And you? Career?” Kiley knew what the answer would be.

“I was in law school when I met Ralph.” Emily twisted her diamond ring around as if trying to screw in her finger.
“C’est la vie.”
She flapped her hands in a dismissive what-can-you-do gesture.

“Had to make a choice?” Kiley always tried not to resent women who had been free to choose work over motherhood. She loved her own job, but she would have loved it more if it had been an option, not a necessity.

“I worked in Ralph’s office as a paralegal, but I gave it up when the twins were born. Now I chair a lot of charities in Greenwich.”

Kiley yearned to head to the store, but it would have been rude to end the reunion so abruptly. She touched the only subject they might still have in common. “I saw your boat,
Miss Emily
. She looks wonderful. Will she be in the August Races?”

“Oh, yes. Dad wants to keep the tradition alive, although it’s getting harder to find a crew. Ralph and Fred, Missy’s husband, aren’t very good sailors.” Putting a confidential hand to her mouth she hissed, “Seasick.”

“My father wants to sell
Random
, but not before the race.” By bringing up the boats, both in his boatyard, she’d brought the shadow of Grainger into the conversation. Did Emily make note of it? In for a nickel, in for a dime. “Grainger Egan is going to crew for him.”

Emily wore the same smirky curiosity on her face she’d worn the afternoon the twins had asked about Mack and Grainger. Kiley remembered one of them calling him Heathcliff, just this side of derogatory. “Egan’s very good. I was hoping to get him to crew with us.”

Kiley’s tense muscles relaxed. She was being an idiot. Emily wasn’t going to bring up the past; she had moved on a long, long way. The twins’ tepid foray into the wild side with local boys was long forgotten. Just because she’d spent the last eighteen years brooding over the past didn’t mean the Claridge girls even remembered that summer and the way it ended.

Emily waved at a passing car. “But naturally, he’d want to sail with you. I remember that you were close friends.”

“We were.” There seemed little she could add. “How’s Missy?”

“Missy? Fine. Married, two kids—not twins. Her husband, Fred, is a partner in Ralph’s firm. She’ll be here Friday. Say, your parents must still be members at the club. We’re having a fund-raising cocktail party next Saturday, to support the youth sailing program. Auction and hors d’oeuvres. We’d love to see you there. I’ll make sure you get an invitation.”

“Oh, please, don’t bother.”

“Nonsense. You’ll know half the people there. I know that your parents are selling up, but don’t let that stop you. We’d love to see you and your husband.”

“I’m not married.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Emily twisted her diamond around. “I did know that you were single, what was I thinking? No matter, there’ll be several unattached men. We can find an extra man, I’m sure. Conor MacKenzie, you remember him? He’ll be there.”

For a sick moment, Kiley thought Emily was going to wink.

“Emily, I really can’t.”

The foot traffic had managed to skirt around them as they stood in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the new gourmet kitchen shop. Even so, Emily had come closer to Kiley, nearly close enough to feel her breath. “Kiley. It’s for charity. Surely you can afford the ticket. They’re only fifty dollars. Most of it tax deductible.”

“I’ll think about it. Send me the invitation; at the very least, I’ll send a contribution. My parents still have their box—ten-eleven. I’ve got to run, but it was nice seeing you. Give my best to Missy.”

“Kiley.” She was three steps away when she heard her name again.

Kiley paused and turned back to see Emily, her fingers working hard at twisting her massive ring around and around.

“Yes?”

“You can bring your son along, if you want. Several of the older teens will be there.”

Slam dunk.
For years, she had refused to come here. Refused to let her parents bring Will. She thought she could save him from being the object of curiosity, of social conjecture, if she never exposed him to Hawke’s Cove. Emily’s words emphasized how right Kiley had been in finally telling him everything, warding off his hearing some stranger’s version.

“I’ll mention it to him, if I decide to go.” Kiley edged between a pair of tourists blocking her escape.

In LaRiviere’s Market, she forced herself to think only about what she needed: hamburger, lettuce, tomatoes. Chips and something for dessert. A liter of cola for the kids. She’d come across a case of California white wine in the cellar; her parents wouldn’t miss one bottle if they hadn’t missed the whole case. She made herself focus on the process, a decision that ultimately she regretted as she struggled with three heavy plastic bags. Naturally, there wasn’t a cab in town. Nearly to the end of Main Street, Kiley half considered returning to the market to ask them to hold on to the bags until she went home to get the car, then remembered she didn’t have the car. Soon she was fairly scowling in annoyance with Will, even though he’d asked twice if she was sure he could have the car.

“Dumb, dumb, dumb.” Kiley’s under-the-breath muttering became a marching song. Just because he wanted his little friend to come have dinner. What was so important about meeting her that Will would make his mother jump through these hoops?
Catherine.
Not
Cathy,
or
Kate; Catherine.
At least it wasn’t Muffy, or Buffy, or Toots, or Pug. Those were the nicknames of some of the girls who used to be at those Yacht Club dances. Girls who attended the good schools, who were tanned year-round from vacations in the “islands” and who lived in a rarefied atmosphere of privilege.

Will said her parents were teachers, and Catherine worked, not spending her summer in leisure. Besides, she was making Will happy, giving him something to do besides hang around the house watching his mother be miserable. Kiley hitched the bags up in her arms. She would be particularly nice to Catherine. After all, she should be grateful to the girl. Kiley squelched the sneaking suspicion she might be one of those mothers who disliked on sight any girl who might come into their son’s life. She wouldn’t be one of those. No way. Lori had been a different kettle of fish.

She wasn’t aware of the sound of a motor slowing down to pass her.

“Do you need help?” Grainger leaned out of his truck window, calling to her from across the lane.

“No, I’m fine.” Kiley shook her head in emphasis. She didn’t want him to see how startled she was by his sudden appearance beside her.

Grainger kept pace with her determined stride. “Put your bags in the truck. There’s no sense in struggling.”

“Toby has people at the house. I don’t want to get back too soon.” She knew that Toby had to be gone by now; it wouldn’t have taken this long to show the house even if they’d gone around twice. But it was too awkward to ride in the confines of the truck with Grainger.

“Just shove Pilot aside. He doesn’t mind.”

“Thanks anyway; I’m really all right.”

“Suit yourself.” Grainger looked at her with slightly offended disappointment and drove away.

Kiley watched Pilot’s head duck back into the cab of the truck. It took her a minute to get her feet moving again. As she came around the bend in the road that led up to the Yacht Club, she spotted the truck idling in a popular scenic turnout. The great expanse of Atlantic Ocean glittered beyond the truck. Surely he’d seen this view a million times. Was he waiting for her?

Kiley wanted to turn around and go in another direction, but there
was
no other direction home. She would look childish and silly to turn around just to avoid him. “Be a grown-up.” She straightened her shoulders as best she could under the weight of the cumbersome bags and marched on, thankful she was on the other side of the road and could go past him without having to look at him.

“Kiley. Get in the truck,” he called as she drew even.

“It’s a perfectly nice day for a walk.”

“Your ice cream is melting, and I don’t want to be held responsible.”

An involuntary smile raised a corner of her mouth.

“Just get in. No other civility required.”

He was right; the ice cream would be soup by the time she walked the next mile. Besides, the plastic handles were beginning to stretch to the point of breaking. Pilot gazed out at her, his bristly nose poking through the opening in the rear window. A car passed between them; then Kiley approached the truck. She set her bags down amidst coils of rope and a pair of oars, and went around to climb in the passenger’s side.

Pilot moved about half of his hindquarters out of her way, then rested his body against hers. Through her window Kiley saw a huge blackback gull effortlessly kite along the edge of the bluff, enjoying the updraft, free from all concerns except eating and breeding.

“Shove him out of the way.”

“No, he’s fine. He likes to snuggle, I see.”

“Check yourself for ticks when you get out, then.”

They rode the rest of the way as if the scenery held their full attention. Kiley almost said something about her conversation with Conor, then held back. What point was there in telling him that she’d told Conor about Will? After her conversation with Emily, it appeared to her that it was hardly news to anyone.