Summer Secrets (6 page)

*   *   *

When she awoke for the second time, it was almost noon. The sun was high and bright in the sky, and Aunt Judith had left a note to say she had a bridge game and would be back this afternoon.

It was a perfect day for a walk, and perhaps the beach. No one had a suntan in England. A few people they knew had ventured to places like Acapulco or Majorca for their honeymoons, but travel was exotic and expensive, and there was little hope of turning golden brown in the weak English sun.

She stretched her legs out, pale in her cutoffs, and grabbed some baby oil from the bathroom cabinet, squeezing it into her straw tote next to a towel and a book. She put on the crocheted bikini she’d bought on Carnaby Street on a trip up to London, unsure when she would ever wear it, but knowing it would be a good investment if she ever went on vacation again.

Twisting her hair into a loose braid, she pulled a T-shirt over the bikini, grabbed her bag, and headed out the door.

Five

Main Street looked exactly the same, as picture-book perfect as it had always been. Audrey wandered along, looking into all the store windows, smiling and saying hi to everyone she passed, stopping to chat to the people she knew, all of whom knew she was coming from her aunt’s, all of whom were delighted to see her.

She made her way down Straight Wharf, pausing outside one store, its windows filled with canvases, gorgeous seascapes, propped up against one another, a few nudes, reclining women on mussed-up sheets, their faces turned away from the artist. And as she stood, thinking how beautiful they were, she noticed movement behind, and there he was, Brooks, waving at her to come in, a wide grin on his face.

“Hey!” He put down the canvas he was holding and walked over to her. They both paused, Audrey feeling the unexpected urge to hug him, but how could she, she barely knew him. They stood grinning at each other, unable to wipe the smiles off their faces. Brooks eventually extended a hand, which she shook, laughing as she glanced around the room.

“I guess I’ve stumbled upon your studio! These are so beautiful, Brooks. You’re so talented!”

“You’re surprised?”

“No. I guess I thought your work would be more abstract, I have no idea why. Look at how you’ve captured Nantucket! Are they for sale? I’d love to buy one!”

“Which is your favorite?” Delight was in his eyes.

“Let me look through. May I? Is that okay?”

“We’ll look together.”

*   *   *

They wandered round the studio, Brooks telling Audrey about the paintings, what inspired him, funny stories about how they almost got sabotaged. His sleeves were rolled up, his arms tanned, the hairs a golden brown. Audrey found herself staring at those strong arms, recognizing she was feeling feelings she should not have been feeling; hoping that they would go away, even though they felt so very, very, good.

Her husband might have been very handsome, but Audrey’s appreciation of his looks had always been intellectual. She
knew
Richard was good-looking; it just didn’t necessarily have much of an effect on her.

It certainly never caused her to catch her breath, a jolt inside her body when his arm brushed hers, as was happening each time Brooks touched her accidentally, or placed a hand in the small of her back to guide her elsewhere in the studio.

When he talked, she turned to him, her eyes running over his thick, dark hair, streaked with gold from the sun, the dimples in his cheeks when he smiled, the way he moved with an extraordinary ease, as if he were a man entirely comfortable in his skin.

He wore paint-streaked jeans, an untucked white shirt. Audrey had a vision, suddenly, of him walking across the bedroom, naked. She inhaled sharply, aware of an unexpected stirring in her loins.

“I love this one,” she said quickly, turning away so he didn’t see the deep flush rising on her cheeks. She went over to a small, delicate watercolor of the Sankaty lighthouse. “I love the big ones, but this one is so delicate, so pretty, so perfectly captures the essence of this place.”

He picked it up, examined it, then handed it to her. “You have great taste. The watercolors are my favorites, and this one particularly. I always thought I would keep this one, but I couldn’t imagine it in better hands.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Completely.”

“How much is it?”

“It’s yours. A gift.” He bowed.

“A gift? But…”

“Yes. I won’t hear anything else about it. Say, what are you doing now? Do you want to get an ice cream from the Paradise?”

Audrey broke into a wide grin. “I can’t imagine anything I’d like to do more.”

*   *   *

“Don’t you look happy.” Aunt Judith looked up from where she was sitting in the garden, reading the newspaper, a small folding table next to her with a glass of what might have been iced tea, a bowl of nuts beside it.

“I do? I feel pretty happy.” Audrey, in fact, felt more than happy—she felt giddy. A perfect day with a man she might not be able to have, but his attention, his flattery, the way he had made her laugh, had her feeling like a teenager, light and free, without a care in the world.

“Where have you been? I was thinking perhaps tomorrow we can start making headway with sorting out the attic. How would that be?” She peered at Audrey. “You’ve caught the sun, and I noticed the baby oil was missing. The beach?”

“Yes. Actually I ran into Brooks, your neighbor, this morning, and he ended up coming to the beach with me.” Audrey looked away as she said this, not wanting her perceptive aunt to see anything in her eyes.

“What a treat!” Aunt Judith spoke without judgment. “He’s delicious, isn’t he? If I weren’t so old I’d fall head over heels for that man.”

“He’s terribly nice.”

Aunt Judith sat back and gazed at her niece. “My sweet girl, I think you deserve to have some fun, and I’m delighted you’ve found a new friend who makes you smile. You seemed weighted down by the world yesterday, and today it is as if I have got my Audrey back. If being in the company of my neighbor does that for you, then more power to him, I say.”

“You don’t think it’s dangerous?” Audrey asked, after some hesitation.

Aunt Judith smiled her familiar smile, her eyes twinkling as she tilted her head. “I think we are only here for one life,” said her aunt. “I think we cannot tell what our future holds, but we should seize happiness where we find it. Do I think you should leap into bed with him? Well, no. Of course not. But nor do I think you should avoid someone with whom you have a connection. Have fun, Audrey. You deserve to have fun, my darling. That’s all.”

Audrey skipped over to her aunt and leaned down, kissing her on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “I won’t be jumping into bed with him—I am a happily married woman, after all—but thank you for blessing our friendship.”

“You’re welcome.” Her aunt watched thoughtfully as Audrey hopped up the wooden staircase and back into the house.

*   *   *

Audrey felt herself bubble over with excitement. She might not have been thinking about jumping into bed with Brooks, but she couldn’t stop replaying their day together. Their walk to the ice cream parlor, then wandering around looking at the boats, and finally the beach, where they sat and talked about everything under the sun.

Everything seemed brighter, the trees greener, the sun stronger, her world in sharp relief as her insides fizzed with possibility. She hadn’t thought about her husband all day, her other life, her staid suburban-housewife life back in boring old England.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She had indeed caught the sun. Freckles were emerging on her nose, as they always used to do. She had left the rollers and hair iron behind in England, was leaving her hair loose and long, hanging below her shoulders.

She slipped a tunic over her head and slid her feet into sandals, calling to her aunt that she would be going for a walk, suppressing the knowledge that actually she was going to find Brooks, was hoping against hope she might run into him again, just wanting to see him smile, to continue feeling the high she had felt all day.

She skipped down the front steps, out onto the street, pausing as she heard a murmur from next door. There in the doorway was Brooks, with a young woman. Audrey froze behind the tree, her heart pounding as she watched them, watched Brooks reach out a hand and lay it on her arm, saw the woman throw her head back and laugh.

A wave of misery washed over her as she silently turned left instead of right. She heard her name, heard him call a hello, but she didn’t want to see him, felt betrayed, and ridiculous for feeling that way. What did she expect, she asked herself as she rounded the corner, that he had fallen in love with her? That he had no life and was waiting at home for her to appear?

You are being childish, she berated herself, then:
You are a married woman; what on earth are you thinking?
She was stunned at the depths to which she sank, so quickly, merely from seeing a man she didn’t really know with another woman. What business is it of mine? she muttered, forcing her thoughts to her loving husband, which didn’t make her feel better at all, the entire day clouded in misery.

At the Hub, at the end of the day, she picked up a postcard and sat on a bench, writing to Richard.
Darling Richard,
she wrote.
Aunt Judith is fine, and we’re starting to organize tomorrow—have been getting over jet lag! Sun is shining and lovely, but I miss you terribly. Your loving wife, Audrey xx.

Her spirits were lifted somewhat in writing this, as if writing down she was a loving wife, would make it so: would change the fact that she was sitting on a stoop deep in misery at a perceived rejection by a man who wasn’t her husband.

She took the postcard to the post office to stamp and mail, feeling better.

Richard.

She must think about Richard.

How lucky she is, what a good life they have.

Deep in thought, she walked out of the post office, and straight into Brooks.

“Audrey!” He frowned, reaching out his hands to steady her. “I came to find you. Didn’t you hear me? I called to you from the porch, but … you didn’t hear.”

“I’m so sorry.” Audrey took a step back, glancing at him, then over his shoulder, as if she had places to go, people to see. “I must have been in another world.” She didn’t want to look at him too closely, didn’t want to give him back the power he had over her earlier today, when the rest of the world dropped away, when all she could look at was him.

“She’s a client,” he said quietly. Urgently. “The wife of a client, actually, buying a painting for her husband’s office.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It was business,” he said simply, as Audrey flushed a deep red. “It wasn’t anything else.”

“It’s none of
my
business,” Audrey said eventually, shuffling with discomfort, unable to look him in the eye.

“It is, though,” he said. “You and I both know it is.”

After that, Audrey had no idea what to say, the glimmer of warmth in her body spreading and growing until she felt bathed in sunlight and happiness, all over again.

“Do you want to go to the Club Car?” he asked. “We could have cocktails.”

Audrey, not trusting herself to speak, nodded as they set off down the street, neither of them looking anywhere but straight ahead.

*   *   *

Halfway into her second Gibson, Audrey realized she was drunk. Her third was untouched, sitting off to the side; she knew if she ventured further, she might well fall asleep.

As it was, she was filled with a gorgeous, happy buzz. She went to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror above the sink, astonished at how she was glowing.

She walked carefully along the side of the bar, concentrating on walking in a straight line, on placing one foot in front of the other, and sat on her stool, giggling.

“I’ve had too much to drink,” she said, playing with the stem of her glass, not wanting this to be the end of the evening, but knowing she couldn’t handle any more.

“Really? You’re a lightweight,” said Brooks, who didn’t seem even tipsy, despite coming to the end of his third. “One more for the road?”

“For you,” she said, sliding her third glass over to him. “Not for me.”

“What about some food?” He peered at her. “That will help soak it up if you’re feeling bad. They have great fish here. Want to eat?”

Audrey realized suddenly that she was starving, but Aunt Judith would be waiting. “I can’t,” she said. “Aunt Judith. I have to get back.”

“I saw her on the way out. I told her if I found you I might whisk you out for cocktails. She knows. She’ll be fine.”

“In that case, I’d love to.” Audrey found that once again, she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.

*   *   *

Dinner out had never been so much fun. They ate shellfish with their fingers, Audrey leaning forward and laughing, giddy with excitement, surrounded in a vague alcoholic haze, which did, she was relieved to discover, get better over dinner. Brooks ordered a bottle of champagne, but Audrey didn’t touch her glass, watching him demolish the bottle, not the slightest bit the worse for wear, before moving on to wine.

“Black Irish,” he confessed, halfway through the meal. “It’s the blood. Same with my father and grandfather. We don’t get drunk. This? Alcohol? Mother’s milk to us.”

“I’m impressed,” said Audrey, thinking fleetingly of her staid husband and his one vodka gimlet before a meal, with perhaps a shared half bottle during dinner. She had never seen Richard drunk, and although Brooks was not drunk, he was looser than he was earlier, funnier, more exuberant, although perhaps, she thought, we are both more relaxed as we are getting to know each other.

“So how is life in England?” Brooks asked.

“Are you asking me how life is in England or how married life is?”

A grin spread on his face as he sat back, his hands in the air. “Okay. You got me. How is married life? We’ve talked about everything under the sun except that.”

“I know.” She paused. How would she answer this? “Well. Married life is…” Audrey had no idea what to say. “It’s fine,” she said lamely. “Good.”