The Hot Flash Club Chills Out (28 page)

43

I
’m ready!” cried Adele Singleton as she opened her door to Faye’s knock. She wore green silk trousers and a green sweater embroidered with daffodils. Faye said, “Adele, you look fabulous.”

“Oh, well.” Adele giggled. “I’ve got to put on the dog for tea at Lucinda’s! Now where’s my cane?”

Faye spotted it hanging over the kitchen chair, a green ribbon decoratively tied around the head. “I’ll get it.”

She placed the cane in the older woman’s hands, then took her elbow and slowly escorted her out of the house and down the path to her Jeep, where Polly waited. With much giggling and shoving, they helped the older woman up into the passenger seat, and finally Adele was safely wedged in. Faye went around to the driver’s side and slowly steered the Jeep through the narrow lanes back to Orange Street.

Adele was babbling with excitement. “I couldn’t sleep last night, I was so excited! I don’t know when I last saw Lucinda. We served on several committees together, for the Musical Arts Society and the church, but that was at least a decade ago! And I’ve never been to her house!”

“Never?” Faye was surprised. These two women had lived all of their lives just blocks away from one another.

“Well, don’t forget, dear, I’m twenty-one years older than Lucinda. And I certainly didn’t belong to her social set. If I hadn’t met you and Polly, I would never have been brave enough to phone Lucinda to ask her to tea.”

“Yes.” Polly leaned over the seat back. “Isn’t it odd that she insisted
you go there
?”

“I don’t think so. I just said how much I enjoyed meeting the two of you, and how I wanted to have a little get-together, and how you like the island and would enjoy hearing some of the island’s history, and so on. She knows I’m ancient and crippled and bungling. So she said it would be a pleasure to have us at her house. And I agreed it would be easier for me. And now, don’t you see, as hostess, she’ll be in control, and Lucinda likes control.”

“Goodness,” Faye said. “Such Byzantine maneuvers!”

“Oh, life in a small town is never without its politics,” Adele agreed. “I’m sure Lucinda is as curious about you and Polly as I am to see Lucinda’s house. Plus, I have no doubt Lucinda wants to hear about Nora, although she’d never admit it.”

When Faye pulled into the Orange Street driveway, Polly bustled around to help Adele down from the Jeep and together the three women went down the sidewalk and up the path to Lucinda’s home.

The moment they tapped at the door, it opened. Lucinda Payne stood there in her pewter silk skirt and matching sweater, a vision of ice on this hot day. As always, pearls were at her neck and ears. Her green eyes were cold, but when they lit on Adele, they warmed slightly.

“Adele. How nice to see you. Do come in.”

“Thank you, Lucinda. And of course you know your neighbors, Faye Vandermeer and Polly Lodge.”

“We’ve met,” Lucinda responded briefly, and unenthusiastically. She led them into her living room, where several minutes were spent getting Adele comfortably settled in a wing chair. Lucinda had had her cleaning lady make a pitcher of iced tea, which was positioned on a silver tray next to a silver ice bucket and four tall etched crystal glasses. Tea and crisp damask napkins and bakery cookies were handed around.

“I can’t get over how tidy your house is!” Adele said, with the innocent charm of the very old. “My house is cluttered with memorabilia.”

Lucinda inclined her head in acknowledgment of the compliment. “I have never allowed mess. I’m far too busy to accept the interference it causes.”

“Are you still on the library board?” Adele asked.

Lucinda said she was, and for a while the two older women discussed how the town’s institutions had changed over the past few years. Polly and Faye listened quietly, sipping their tea, feeling just a bit like children who were in their proper place, being seen but not heard.

Faye hadn’t been in the house before, and enjoyed examining the interior of this house, built at the same time as Nora’s, with many of the same architectural features. While Nora’s house was furnished with period antiques and crowded with a century’s worth of keepsakes and heirlooms, Lucinda’s décor was spare to the point of sterility. Faye supposed the monotone grays and cream of the walls, woodwork, and furniture could be considered serene, but it came off as chilliness, no doubt expressing the owner’s temperament.

Adele brought them into the conversation. “Polly and Faye use the Atheneum quite a lot, you know. And Faye has fallen in love with Nantucket. She’s thinking of spending the winter here.”

Lucinda looked doubtfully at Faye. “I’m afraid you’ll find yourself terribly bored. It’s very quiet here in the off season.”

“I’m an artist,” Faye said. “I need peace and quiet. And I’ve been painting landscapes. I’d like to paint in the off season as well.”

“Ah. Will you be staying in Nora’s house?” Lucinda inquired idly, stirring her tea.

“I doubt it. I haven’t discussed it with Nora. And it’s such a large house. I’m sure the electric bills are enormous.”

Lucinda looked pleased. “It’s true. I live in my house year round, and it’s costly. Perhaps more expensive than Nora’s budget will allow.”

Faye gazed around. “Your house and Nora’s are about the same size.”

“Mine is larger,” Lucinda corrected quickly, “because of the addition on the back. Also, when my sons were younger, we had the basement fitted out as a den for them, with a billiards room and a TV room. Nora’s basement is just dirt. Just a place for the furnace.” An odd expression—sadness? guilt? discomfort?—shadowed her face. “Of course, I haven’t used the basement for years, and I don’t bother to heat it.”

“I pretty much live in two downstairs rooms of my house,” Adele said. “I can’t climb the stairs any longer. But I have what I need all around me.”

Lucinda studied Adele. “You must be in your nineties now.”

“I’m ninety-five!” Adele bragged.

“And still living on your own. That is impressive. Have you considered moving into Our Island Home?”

Adele’s face fell. “I’m sure the day will come when I won’t be able to live alone.”

Lucinda looked back at Faye and Polly. “How long do you intend to remain in Nora’s house?”

Polly replied. “Through August, for sure.”

“I might stay on through the fall,” Faye continued. “I’m looking for a small house to buy or rent.”

Lucinda arched an eyebrow. “And Nora?”

“She had her hip operation,” Polly replied. “She came through with flying colors, but she’s got a long recuperation ahead of her, and physical therapy after that. She wants to try to come down sometime in September or October, with one of her relatives, so she can spend some time on the island this year.”

“The fall is Nantucket’s best season,” Lucinda said.

“I think I’d like it here in the winter,” Faye said. “With howling winds and guttering candles. I could walk on the beach during the day, then curl up with a mystery by the fire at night.”

Polly shivered. “Not me, thanks. I’d be afraid of ghosts.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Adele wriggled enthusiastically. “Nora’s house has a ghost, isn’t that right? Have you girls seen it?”

“We haven’t
seen
the ghost, but we’ve seen signs of it,” Faye told her. “A few things have disappeared, although not in the past couple of weeks.”

“Oooh.” Adele looked worried. “Are you frightened?”

“I suppose I am, a little,” Faye said honestly.

“Me, too,” Polly agreed. “Although before we came here, I didn’t really believe in ghosts.”

“Many of Nantucket’s older houses have ghosts,” Lucinda informed them in a matter-of-fact tone. “Restless spirits who are not satisfied with the way things were when they left this sphere of existence.”

“Really?” Faye was fascinated to hear the practical older woman verge into shady territory. “Does yours?”

Lucinda shrugged. “Of course not. Why would it? No one in my family died dissatisfied.”

Faye and Polly exchanged glances and held back smiles. So Lucinda was competitive even with those who had, in Adele’s words, “gone aloft.”

The conversation moved on. They discussed the more famous ghosts on the island, and some of the island’s history, and then Adele’s teacup began to rattle in its saucer.

“Oh, dear. There’s a sure sign I need a nap.” Adele smiled regretfully. “I do seem to run out of steam easily at this age.”

Polly and Faye helped Adele to her feet. At the front door, Faye thanked Lucinda for a lovely afternoon. “We’d love to have you over for tea some afternoon.”

Lucinda looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Perhaps,” she replied vaguely. She waited graciously as the three slowly descended the front steps, then shut the door firmly behind them.

Faye and Polly drove Adele back to her house. They helped her out of the car, across her yard, and into the safe haven of her chair. When they arrived back at their Orange Street home, they found Kezia Jones’s silver SUV parked in the narrow driveway.

“What do we do now?” Polly looked up Orange Street. As always, any parking places near town were filled.

Faye frowned. “It’s not Wednesday. Wednesday was the day we agreed Kezia would collect the trash.”

Someone behind them honked his horn, so Faye slowly drove up the street, looking for an empty space. There wasn’t one. Perturbed—they both had to pee—they drove around the long narrow block. When they returned to the house, Kezia was just backing her SUV out of the driveway. Spotting them, she stopped. Faye pulled up on the curb as everyone did in this town. Kezia leaned her glossy head out the window and tossed them a radiant smile. At the same time, she automatically lowered the window behind her, so little Joe could see them. He squealed with delight and extended a chubby fist full of cracker.

“Sorry to take your space! I just had to run to the bank, and there wasn’t any parking available. I thought you all would be at the beach today, anyway. I hope it wasn’t a problem!”

Faye leaned out the window. “No problem,” she called.

Polly leaned out her window. “Hi, Joey!” She waved at the little boy.

Faye put her Jeep in reverse and backed down the street so Kezia could give up the parking space for them. “Oh, Polly.” She sighed. “Every time I see Kezia, I feel so old. She’s so energetic and young!”

“Just compare yourself to Lucinda and Adele,” Polly suggested. “That way
you
’ll feel young and energetic!”

“I suppose. It’s sort of like seeing the Ghosts of Christmas Past and Christmas Future,” Faye remarked.

“And this is Christmas Present,” Polly reminded her. She laughed at her pun. “It really is like a Christmas present, having the summer on this island.”

“You’re right,” Faye agreed, as she followed Polly into the house.

44

T
he Boston area was hit with record heat and humidity during the last week in July. Tempers flared, electrical usage soared, and fuses blew. Overtaxed machinery went on strike.

At The Haven’s gatehouse cottage, one of the two complicated commercial ovens died. The electrician’s answering machine informed Alan and Jennifer that there was a long line of clients already, but to leave their name, number, and the nature of the problem. They did, and tried to use the small oven in their little cottage for the most pressing orders, and there were a lot of pressing orders, since no one wanted to bake in their own homes in this weather.

Alice arrived at the gatehouse in the morning to find her son and his wife rushing through the door between the domestic quarters and the commercial kitchen, bumping into each other or lifting trays high as they tried to pass. It looked like a badly choreographed French farce, and was almost funny, until, from the other room, the baby woke and began to cry.

Alice raced to greet her granddaughter. Aly lay red-faced and squawking in her crib, dressed in pink cotton pajamas and covered with a light cotton blanket. Alice had advised Jennifer that in this heat the infant didn’t need to be covered so thoroughly, but Jennifer obviously hadn’t heeded her advice.

“You poor hot little baby!” Alice cooed.

Babbling baby talk, she carried Aly to the change table and stripped off her wet diaper. She fastened on a dry diaper and snapped on a loose cotton T-shirt. By the time she’d finished, Aly was bright-eyed and smiling. Alice carried the baby to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of formula from the refrigerator, and settled Aly in her fancy little stroller, where she cooed with pleasure at the sight of the musical mobile hanging just above her.

Jennifer and Alan were still running back and forth, carrying baking sheets and mixing bowls. Alan had a portable phone clutched between his left shoulder and his ear. He was pleading with an electrician to come repair the oven.

Alice called, “I’m taking Aly with me to The Haven.”

“Thanks!” Jennifer cried over her shoulder as she rushed back to the commercial kitchen.

Alice wheeled the stroller outside. The sun blazed down, the air simmered. It was so hot! In just minutes, sweat glued her shirt to her back. The straps of her sandals cut into the tops of her swelling feet and the waistband of her loose cotton trousers—the
elastic
waistband!—was too tight, pressing uncomfortably against her back. The damp heat smothered her in its inescapable embrace. She wanted to shove it away, and frustration welled inside her at her inability to control it. She felt just completely irritable as she pushed the stroller up the long curving drive.

Finally she reached The Haven. There was a handicap ramp at the other end of the building, but she didn’t want to have to stay outside one more moment, so she lifted the baby from the stroller and lugged her up the steps, not even stopping to let Aly check out the stone lions that lay in grand attendance on either side of the steps.

Inside, it was blissfully cooler, and dryer. The downside of this, she knew, was that The Haven’s electric bill would skyrocket this month.

She entered the lounge, which was vacant. She lay Aly on her back on the sofa and sat next to her, catching her breath and cooling down. She had to remember, when she returned, to tell Alan and Jennifer that she couldn’t babysit next week, that she would be on Nantucket for the entire week. Her stomach pinched with worry for them. They were already so pressured, so frantic. But her Hot Flash friends were right, they were adults, and needed to learn how to deal with the stresses of life. Even if Alice wanted to fix everything for them, she couldn’t, and she shouldn’t.

Aly was fussing with boredom, so Alice picked her up and carried her up the wide staircase to the second floor and Shirley’s offices. When she entered, Wendy jumped up from her desk—nearly jumped
over
her desk—babbling at Alice so fast Alice could hardly understand what the other woman was saying.

“Oh! Alice! Thank GOD you’ve come! I don’t know what to do! My computer has just eaten everything, and I tried to recall it on Shirley’s, and the same thing happened there, and I’ve phoned our computer guru but she’s on vacation, and look at these manuals, they’re incomprehensible! I promised Shirley I’d get the figures printed out and a report made for those Rainbow people, and now I’ve gone and messed everything up! What am I going to do!”

“Where’s Shirley?” Alice asked, bouncing the baby in her arms.

“On Nantucket. She’ll be back Friday.”

Conflicting emotions surged through Alice like an internal tornado. Shirley hadn’t told her she was going to Nantucket. Why did she have to go this week? She was going to be there
all next week
when the Hot Flash Club had their vacation together. And Shirley left the running of The Haven in Wendy’s hands? Well, Wendy had been with The Haven for a year now, and she was a good receptionist and secretary, but still, it wasn’t very responsible of Shirley to go off like this.

At the same time, Alice’s old professional temperament perked up. She’d always enjoyed cleaning up a business glitch.

She handed Wendy the baby. “Hold her. I’ll see what I can do.”

As Alice settled into the office chair behind the desk, Wendy cuddled Aly, chattering away nonstop. “I phoned Shirley on Nantucket, the number she gave me, I mean, and Faye said Shirley’s out for the day, unreachable. Shirley has a cell phone, but she must have it turned off, it will only take messages. I’ve left several messages for her, and I did explain the problem to Faye, but of course Faye doesn’t know anything about computers. She suggested I phone Julie Martin, you know, she’s one of the main investors in The Haven and apparently quite proficient with computers even though her field is really investments…”

“Fine!” Alice snapped. “I’m sure you did what you could, Wendy. Now take Aly into the other room. I can’t think with you blathering away in my ear.”

Wendy whisked the baby into Shirley’s office, shutting the door behind her.

For an hour Alice sat at the computer, patiently, steadily, painstakingly, attempting to retrieve the lost information. It was a hopeless task. Something had clearly gone wrong with the computer; it had indeed, as Wendy said, eaten everything. The longer Alice persevered, the more frustrated she got. There was something almost human about the computer with its eagerness to obey human directions that made it seem absolutely
hostile
when it didn’t obey, until Alice felt she was in a kind of war of wills with the machine. And the manual had clearly been written by a gang of sadists. She found herself cursing at the equipment, calling it names she hadn’t spoken in years, and she even slapped the monitor. That hurt her hand, while the monitor remained impassively blank.

At the point of tears, she shoved back her chair and stomped into Shirley’s office.

“Let me look at her computer,” she directed.

Wendy was lying on the floor playing with the baby. When Alice came in, she started to get up, but Alice waved her back down.

“No, no, you’re fine. Just keep Aly happy.”

She plopped down into Shirley’s office chair and wriggled the computer mouse. The screen woke up, and Alice began to type in commands, but nothing happened.

Both computers were alert, alive, but intractable.

Alice found the phone book. “What computer services did you phone?”

Wendy named three. “No one’s available for at least another day or two.”

Alice tried phoning the ones Wendy hadn’t tried, but they were not regular servicers and all they offered was to put The Haven on a waiting list.

“I have an idea,” Alice said. Snatching up the phone, she punched in Marilyn’s number. “Marilyn? Is Angus there?”