The Hot Flash Club Chills Out (9 page)

Polly came out of the dining room bearing a tray of small crystal glasses. “Ta-da!” She poured the creamy liqueur and handed it around to everyone but Shirley.

“I was just wondering,” Alice remarked lazily, “how much our choice of night wear reveals about our personalities.”

“What a funny thought!” Faye cast her artist’s eye on the others. “Well, Shirley’s sexy little lavender negligee and matching peignoir with ruffled sleeves and neck is exactly what I’d expect her to wear. She’s romantic even when she’s not with a man.”

“You know my motto, Be Prepared!” Shirley joked, tossing her red curls playfully.

“And Alice, as always, looks like royalty,” Polly observed.

Alice wore gold and scarlet paisley silk pajamas cut Oriental fashion, with frogs on the asymmetrical closings and a neat Mandarin collar. “Thank you, thank you.” She gave them a mock royal wave, Queen Elizabeth style.

“And Faye looks like an artist,” Polly said, admiring Faye’s yellow silk nightgown and turquoise kimono splashed with flowers and birds. “While I”—with a rueful grin, she held out the cuff of her light fleece robe, which she wore over a heavy cotton nightgown.

Alice searched for a compliment. “You look the most comfortable.”

“I thought it might be cold here,” Polly explained. “I’ve read that because the sea is still cold, the island takes longer than the mainland to warm up.”

“Very sensible,” Faye said.

Polly sighed.
“Sensible.”

“Marilyn wins the prize for
sensible
!” Alice said.

They all focused on Marilyn, who wore faded, old, mismatched sweat pants and sweatshirt.

“They’re cozy!” Marilyn protested.

“Do you wear those with Ian?” Faye asked gently.

“Of course.” Marilyn looked puzzled. “Why not?”

The other four laughed.

“So much for our ideas about what’s sexy,” Polly said.

“Well, I’m sure the right clothes make
us
feel sexier,” Alice said.

Faye had her head cocked. “I’m thinking. Marilyn, what you’re wearing now isn’t much different from what you wore in the day. And I’ll bet you don’t have any saucy little summer numbers to wear on the island.”

“Shopping spree!” Alice and Shirley yelled simultaneously.

“I’ll drink to that!” Faye raised her glass.

Around midnight they agreed it was time for bed. They carried their glasses into the kitchen, setting them in the sink for a morning washup. They double-checked that both front and back doors were locked. They took turns using the bathrooms, called good night, then sank down into their various beds.

They fell asleep at once, exhausted by the long day and the fresh salt air, and if anything woke them in the night—a noise, a drift of air, a shifting shadow—they simply snuggled more deeply into their pillows, sinking back into their dreams.

12

E
veryone rose early, except for Alice, whose snores from the front bedroom sounded like the purring of a large cat. Shirley went into the front parlor to do yoga. Faye and Polly set off for the Nantucket Bake Shop to buy croissants and bagels and sweet rolls, and Marilyn went in the other direction, down to the Grand Union to buy milk, sugar, coffee, and juice. The four were gathered in the dining room, just finishing their breakfasts, when Alice padded barefoot into the room, rubbing her eyes.

“I can’t believe I slept so late!” She collapsed in a chair.

“Coffee?” Shirley poured a cup and handed it to Alice. “We’re planning our day. It’s gorgeous out there, sunny and warm.”

“I want to walk around town some more,” Faye said. “The yards are all like little jewel boxes bordered with white picket fences.”

“Daffodils everywhere,” Polly added.

“Flowering magnolia,” Marilyn said.

Shirley wasn’t impressed. “We can see those things at home. I think we should go to the beach. I walked down by the town pier yesterday and it was just heavenly.”

“Okay, then! Let’s do it
all
!” Faye started gathering up her breakfast things. “We don’t have to leave until this evening.”

“Hang on,” Alice grumbled. “I haven’t finished my coffee.”

“And I haven’t finished my croissant,” Polly added. “Alice, try the beach plum jam. It’s amazing.”

As she spread the jam on her roll, Alice looked around the dining room. “What a lot of antiques Nora Salter’s got in this house.”

Marilyn agreed. “I don’t know how she’s able to notice that anything’s gone missing, there’s so much here.”

“The scrimshaw alone must be worth a fortune,” Polly said. Seeing Alice’s raised eyebrow, she pointed to a box on the mantel. “Scrimshaw is ivory with designs etched and inked into it. Original scrimshaw was made of whale’s teeth, but now that whales are no longer hunted, people use ecologically approved resin imitations. It’s a fascinating, painstaking process.”

“What do you think of Nora’s paintings?” Shirley asked Faye, nodding toward the landscapes above the sideboard.

“I haven’t studied them all closely,” Faye told her, “but some of them are by fairly well-known artists. Pretty valuable, I’d say. Not to mention the china. Look at the corner cabinet. Spode.”

Polly went over to study the collection. “There’s a salt shaker here, but no pepper.”

“Maybe that’s one of the things that’s gone missing,” Shirley said. “I’m going to have keys made, one for each of us, but we’ve got to be supercareful about keeping this place locked up.”

Faye stretched. “I can’t wait any more! The sun’s too inviting. Alice, why don’t we meet you somewhere—down by the Steamboat Wharf, in about thirty minutes?”

Alice, mouth full of bread and jam, nodded.

“I’ll wait and go with Alice,” Shirley decided. “You all go ahead. I’ll do the dishes.” When the others hesitated, she made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go on!”

Marilyn, Faye, and Polly hurried off. Alice finished her breakfast, then offered to help Shirley wash up, but Shirley, singing as she bustled around the kitchen, told her to get dressed, she had everything under control.

In her tidy little bedroom at the front of the house, Alice pulled on her slacks, sweater, and handsome Italian loafers. She appreciated the Quaker simplicity of the room, but decided she’d bring down a few of her own things to make it less stark. She lifted her watch off the embroidered runner on the dresser and slipped it onto her wrist, and then reached for her turquoise and silver earrings. She stopped, staring in confusion, at the lone earring lying on the cloth. Thinking she must have dropped an earring as she prepared for bed, she knelt on the floor, searching, and found nothing. When she rose, her eye fell on the bedside table. The other earring was lying there, next to her travel alarm clock. Now why would she do that, put one earring on the bureau and one on the bedside table? Help! She was
truly
getting senile! For a moment she stood paralyzed, trying to remember the night before.

Oh, chill out, Alice, she told herself. It’s simply a case of too many nightcaps. Snatching up the earring, she put it on, grabbed her leather jacket and cap, and left the room.

When they all met up at Steamboat Wharf, Marilyn announced that she’d plotted the route and would be the trailblazer, so the others were free to goggle and gawk at the beautiful hotels and houses as they walked along South Water Street and Hulbert Avenue. At Brant Point, they paused to catch their breath and inspect the lighthouse.

“This is the second oldest lighthouse in the country, established in 1746,” Marilyn read from the guidebook.

“I’m more interested in the Coast Guard Station,” Shirley joked. “You know how I love men in uniform.”

“I prefer them out of uniform,” Alice quipped.

They watched a few sailboats brave the brisk, chilly winds, then continued on to Jetties Beach.

Here, stiff caramel-colored beach grass waved in the high sand dunes. The tide was in, the dark water lapping at the gray boulders of the Jetties. Toward the west, the beach stretched as empty of humans as a scene from
Robinson Crusoe.
The gray-shingled concession stand was boarded up, the restrooms locked. The women took turns standing guard while they each went behind the dunes.

Alice came out grumbling as she adjusted her clothing. “The outdoor life is not for me. While I was holding my trousers out of the way, I peed on my hand.”

Shirley laughed. “Rinse it off in the ocean, silly.”

Faye was out on the jetty, arms extended for balance as she stepped from one boulder to another. Polly followed. Marilyn wandered off in the other direction, strolling just at the water’s edge, enthralled by the millions of rosy slipper shells scattered on the sand. Black-green seaweed dotted the beach in twisted bits and pieces like arcane calligraphy, or was tossed down in hunks like discarded rags, or combed through the sand in long curling strands like Pre-Raphaelite hair. These were, Marilyn decided, from the phylum chlorophyta with branched thalli. She saw no horseshoe crabs on this beach, but other shells were plentiful.

Alice stood at the water’s edge, shivering. Except for the cry of the gulls and the slap of waves against the beach, it was quiet. No roar of traffic, no horns and sirens, none of the eternal rumble of city life. Shirley came crunching over the sand to stand next to her.

“I’m bored and my feet are cold!” Alice grumbled.

“Oh, Alice.” Shirley patted her friend’s back. “Don’t be such a spoilsport. This is exercise! It’s good for you!”

“My shoes are filling up with sand,” Alice complained. “The wind’s whipping my hair into my face. If I’m going to exercise, I want to do it in the comfort of a gym or spa.” She glared at Shirley. “Why do you think people love The Haven so much?” Abruptly, she turned, stomped up the boardwalk, and collapsed on the steps of the concession stand. Digging in her purse for her cell phone, she announced, “I’m calling a cab. I’m too beat to walk all the way back.”

“Alice—”

“I’ve walked forty minutes already.”

“We’ve strolled. We’ve
dawdled.
”

Alice started to argue, then changed her mind. Looping her arm through Shirley’s, she coaxed, “Yes, and now I want to
stroll
and
dawdle
around the
shops.
Want to come?”

Shirley found Alice irresistible when she was charming. Besides, the wind kept blowing her hair into her face. “Okay. Let’s tell the others.”

When they met for a late lunch at the Tap Room, they were all in high spirits.

“I’m ordering a cheeseburger with fries!” Polly cried happily. “I deserve it, after all the walking I did today.”

“You’re a little sunburned,” Faye admonished her. “We’ve got to remember to bring sunblock.”

“It’s probably windburn,” Alice said. “Look what I bought!” She held up her left arm to show off her new turquoise bracelet.

All four women bent to study it.

“Beautiful!” Faye said.

“Look what
I
found!” Marilyn reached into her pocket and lifted out something white. Holding it in her hand like a butterfly that might fly away, she displayed a delicate shell. “It’s called Angel’s Wings. They’re very brittle. It’s really rare to find one intact like this.”

“Okay,” Shirley said, “Polly has a new shawl, Alice has a new bracelet, Marilyn has a new shell, and I found this on the bulletin board outside a gift shop called the Hub—a list of yoga classes taught on the island. I love trying out different yoga classes, and one person offers yoga on the beach. Doesn’t that sound heavenly?”

Alice made a face. “Oh, yeah. Can’t wait.”

Shirley rolled her eyes at Alice. “What did you find, Faye?”

“I found the best thing of all,” Faye exclaimed. “I found so many places to paint! The beaches, the lighthouse, the gardens, the doors! I can’t
wait
to get back here with my easel and equipment!”

Relaxed and happy after lunch, the group strolled back to Orange Street to pack up their things. As they arrived at the house, the clock at the Unitarian Church struck three. They all paused, looking up at the fine wooden tower. Then they went up the steps to the front door. Like many houses on the street, there was no garden between the building and the sidewalk. All the open space was behind the house, in a small walled garden.

As Shirley dug in her purse for the key, they heard someone say in a loud, imperious voice, “Excuse me!”

Standing on the porch of the house next door was an elegant woman in a marvelous cranberry-colored wool cape. She looked to be in her seventies, but even with the marks of age, her face was beautiful and her clothes were fabulously stylish.

“Oh, hello!” Faye went down the steps, holding out her hand. “I’m Faye Vandermeer. We’re going to be living here this summer!”

The older woman recoiled. “You are—
renters
?” She endowed the word with the horror she might give to the word
prostitutes.

“No, no,” Shirley hurried down the steps to join Faye. “No, Nora Salter is a friend of ours. She asked us to stay here for the summer—”

Before Shirley could finish her sentence, the older woman sniffed disdainfully. “She
would.
”

Alice drew herself up to her full commanding height. “She’s asked us to stay here because she has to have an operation and won’t be able to come down.” She purposely didn’t say that it was an operation on her hip, hoping to shame the old biddy into some kind of sympathy.

But their neighbor showed no compassion or even interest. “I hope you’re not bringing
animals.
Or intending to have loud parties. This is the Historic District, and we’re very strict about what goes on here.” She ran her eyes over all the women, obviously not impressed with what she saw. “I suppose you’ll invite all your relatives.”

“Yeah,” Alice snapped, “especially our teenaged nephews with their saxophones and drums.”

The older woman’s eyes narrowed and her nostrils quivered. Without another word, she turned her back on them and went into the house.

“Well,” Shirley said into the awkward silence, “that was special.”