Whisper Beach (10 page)

G
IGI WAS STANDING ON THE SIDEWALK WHEN
V
AN PULLED
into Dorie's driveway. She was wearing shorts, had a beach bag slung over one shoulder, and was holding a stack of papers that looked like the mail.

“I was going to call you,” Van said, getting out of the car. She'd hoped to have a few minutes with Dorie and Suze.

“I just thought I'd come and surprise you.”

“Oh, good. Let's go inside. I need more coffee.”

“In this weather? Ugh.”

As they walked toward the front door, it opened and Suze stepped out. She zeroed in on Gigi and then her hand. “Is that the mail?”

“Yeah, I ran into the mailman when I got here.”

“Great.” Suze gently extricated it from Gigi's hand and started back toward the house as she riffled through the envelopes.

Van and Gigi followed her inside and got to the foyer just in time for Suze to drop the mail on the table with a “Dammit.”

“No luck?” Van asked.

Suze shook her head. “I don't know why this is taking so long. I need coffee.” Suze headed for the kitchen.

“Was she expecting something important?” Gigi asked.

“Yes. She's up for a grant and the deadline for the final round or whatever is looming, and they haven't sent her the forms she needs.”

“Oh. Why is she having her mail sent here?”

“I think she's planning to spend the fall here, at least if the grant comes through. You should ask her.”

Suze was gloomily nursing a mug of black coffee when they reached the kitchen.

Dorie was at the sink. “What's in the bag?”

Gigi held up her beach bag like it was show-and-tell.

“My beach towel. I'm wearing my swimsuit under my clothes. I thought Van and I . . . and Suze could go to the beach today. Like the old days. Dad said it would be all right as long as we minded our own business. And I didn't call attention to myself. I brought my sunglasses.”

Suze snorted, but turned it into a sneeze. She quickly covered her mouth and said, “Excuse me, need a tissue,” as she fled from the room.

Dorie rolled her eyes and turned back to the dishes, leaving Van to wrestle with the smile on her own face.

“Do you think sunglasses will keep people from recognizing you?” Van asked.

“I guess. Besides, nobody will be at the beach. It's a weekday.”

“Good point. Well, Dorie, if you don't have anything for us to do, I guess we're going to the beach.”

“Have fun.”

“I'll just get changed,” Van said. “Back in a flash.”

She went upstairs and knocked on Suze's door. A muffled answer came from the other side, so she walked in. Suze was sitting on the bed, red faced, and for a second Van was afraid she'd been crying. But she saw Van and said, “Sunglasses,” and broke into suppressed laughter.

Van closed the door. “Shh, you'll hurt her feelings.”

“I'm sorry, but is that the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard?”

“Pretty silly. You are coming to the beach with us, aren't you?”

“I need to work.”

“I respect that, so let me phrase it a different way. ‘If you don't come to the beach with us, I'll sneak in and hide all those musty tomes you have stacked on the desk.'”

“I took yesterday off.”

“I know and ordinarily I wouldn't beg, but ple-e-e-ase.”

“God, you sound like Gigi.”

“Did it work?”

“Okay, for a couple of hours, and then I'm locking myself in here and do not want to be disturbed.”

“Deal. Get changed.”

From downstairs, Gigi's voice called, “What's taking you two so long?”

Suze and Van exchanged looks. Surely this wasn't normal recently widowed behavior.

Van went across the hall and pulled her suitcase up to the bed. She hadn't bothered to unpack. In her mind she was still thinking four-star luxury hotel. That's what her vacations should be these days. Upscale luxury, not sleeping on a sagging single bed surrounded by faded florals and Depression-era furniture.

She rummaged in her suitcase, pulled out the little—and she did mean little—bikini she'd bought for the beach at Rehoboth.
It was a shame to waste it on Whisper Beach, but it was the only one she'd brought. Actually it was the only one she had.

Van slipped it on and put on a pair of denim cutoffs, which she'd bought at a Fifth Avenue boutique and fit wonderfully, though she was still having trouble reconciling the price for something she used to wear when she was too poor to even afford Kmart.

Life could be funny.

She slipped on her new, gauzy cover-up. Unfortunately she'd been depending on the hotel to provide soft, thick beach towels. She took the threadbare towel she'd dried off with after her shower.

She didn't have a beach bag. She wouldn't need one. She could take her laptop. The news that they'd won the Hallmark contract was an itch she was dying to scratch. But one big wave could destroy her entire digital life. She could take one of the paperbacks on the tiny bookshelf under her window.

Or she could bite the bullet and just pay attention to Gigi. And what was so hard about that? They'd always gotten along. And Gigi needed friends at this sad time. That had been obvious yesterday when Gigi fairly disappeared around her boisterous family.

This was supposed to be Gigi's day, though Van would rather spend her time with Suze than her cousin. And she felt a little guilty.

Suze stuck her head in the door. “You ready?”

“As I'll ever be.” Van unzipped her toiletry bag and retrieved a pump bottle of sunscreen. She looked at Suze, still dressed in her khaki shorts and polo shirt from breakfast. “You sure as hell better tell me there's a swimsuit under that safari outfit.”

“It's there, but I'm not walking to the beach in it.”

Gigi was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. “Dorie went to get us some beach chairs out of the storage shed.”

Van nodded. She guessed Gigi hadn't thought to help. She wished Suze had never mentioned that Gigi let everyone take care of her, because it made her
über
aware of it now. If there was ever a time Gigi needed to be taken care of, it was now when she was reeling from the death of her husband, but to Van's mind it was also the time she should take charge of her life. Maybe it was just too early. Hopefully, it wasn't too late.

They went out the front door where Dorie was hosing off three aluminum beach chairs. A huge umbrella was propped against the steps.

“Dorie, are you coming with us?” Van asked.

“Thanks, but I have to get over to the Crab. Have the crew, what's left of it, coming to do some cleanup before the weekend.”

“You should have told me,” Van said. “I'll be glad to help. I'm kind of good that way.”

Dorie grinned at her. “I may take you up on it, but go and enjoy yourself this morning. There will be time to work later. You girls have fun.”

Gigi put a straw hat with a huge floppy brim on her head.

“Where did you find that?” Van asked. Van thought it was more likely to attract a few strange looks than hide Gigi from prying eyes.

“In the closet. Dorie said I could wear it.”

Van didn't dare look at Suze.

“I packed up the cooler,” Gigi said. “Dorie said to help ourselves. So I did. I picked things I thought we would all like. And I brought our beach passes.” She sighed. “Since hardly anybody's gotten a chance to use them this summer.”

For some reason, Gigi's benign personality was really rubbing Van the wrong way. She wanted to shake the girl and say,
Your husband just died, your children need you, go get a job, move out of
your parents' house. Make a home for you and your kids.
Or maybe dealing with kids all day, she'd begun to treat other people like children, too.

Of course, Van had no right to make judgments one way or the other. She wouldn't know what to do with a kid if the stork dropped one in her lap. Which she guessed would be the only way she'd be getting one.

The thought put a momentary pall over her spirits. But today was about Gigi; maybe for once her cousin actually needed some pampering herself.

“I've got beach towels. Also compliments of Dorie.” Suze hiked a stuffed beach bag over her shoulder and picked up one of the beach chairs that Dorie had propped against the steps. She handed it to Gigi, gave one to Van and took one for herself. “Let's get this over with. I've got work to do.”

Van grabbed the giant beach umbrella and they set off on foot for the beach.

Gigi led the way down the sidewalk until the spray from a lawn sprinkler forced them into the street. After that, they walked three abreast down the middle of the street.

A few cars were parked along the side, but it was Monday and it was nearing the end of the season. Already the streets were less congested.

They stopped at Ocean Avenue while they waited for several cars to pass. Suze said, “Look at us with cooler and umbrellas and bags. We look like three shoobies on a day trip.”

Gig swiveled her big hat around. “You two are—these days. Come on.”

They crossed the street and headed up the boardwalk. Below them the beach was covered in a legion of colorful umbrellas. But not nearly as many as there would have been only a week before.
That was fine with Van. She got enough of crowds taking the subway every day.

Gigi walked right past the stairs that led down to the beach.

“Not there,” Gigi said. “I thought we'd go to Whisper Beach. Like we used to do.”

Suze traded a look with Van. “What's wrong with down here?” she asked.

Gigi looked at Van. “Oh, does it make you sad?”

“It doesn't bother me in the least,” Van said. “I was just thinking that if Uncle Nate wants you to keep a low profile—” Van had to stop to compose herself. It would be impossible with Gigi wearing those sunglasses and floppy hat. She could hear Suze's adenoidal breathing behind her. She was trying not to laugh.

“It's more likely people you know will be at Whisper Beach than out there.”

“It's a weekday; there won't be anybody there.”

“I'd really like to stay on the big beach,” Suze said. “I'm, uh, on the lookout for some cute guys.”

Van had to stop herself from doing a double take. But she knew what Suze was doing, and she gave her friend a grateful smile. Going to Whisper Beach by herself at night had been one thing, but sitting for hours and reminiscing about the past would drive her right back to Manhattan, where she was beginning to realize she really belonged.

Suze started down the steps to the beach, walked a few yards across the white sand, and stopped. “How about here?”

“Okay by me,” Van said.

“Fine,” Gigi said.

Suze dropped the bag with the beach towels onto the sand. Wrestled with her beach chair and finally adjusted it to nestle in the sand. Van snapped her beach chair open, put it down next to
Suze, and positioned it facing the sun; then she realized Gigi was still standing, holding her chair and looking at them.

“What? Open your chair and sit down.”

“Oh, okay.” Gigi opened her chair and slowly put it down next to Van's.

Van wondered if maybe she was on tranquilizers or some other medication. She seemed so lethargic.

There were a few minutes of readjusting chairs to catch the best rays, taking off cover-ups, and lathering on sunscreen before they were all sitting, legs stretched out on the sand, heads back, eyes closed, worshipping the sun.

“This is great,” Gigi said, sounding not at all like a grieving widow. But not sounding content, either.

“Hmmm,” Van said.

“Hmmm,” Suze agreed.

“Do you think it's wrong of me to be sitting on the beach when Clay was just buried?”

“Nuh,” Suze said.

“Nuh,” Van agreed.

“It's not like I've gone out shopping or throwing a party. But I never get to do anything for myself. Is that selfish? The kids are always wanting me, and Mother needs help with the house. She's babysitting today.”

“That's nice of her,” Suze said.

“Hmmm,” said Van.

“But usually I don't get any time off . . . ever. Is it so bad to want just a little time to yourself?”

Van sat up. “Gigi, you wanted to come to the beach. We're here. But it's stupid to stay if you're not going to enjoy it.”

“I am enjoying it.” Gigi turned her head and lifted her sunglasses to look at the other two. “But is it wrong?”

“No,” growled Suze.

Van just sat back and closed her eyes.

“I was just wondering.” Gigi lowered her glasses and stretched out again.

Van and Suze turned their faces toward each other. They didn't have to take off their sunglasses to know what the other was thinking.

A few minutes went by, with the sun beating down and the waves rolling onto the shore. Van felt a sheen of sweat break out on her midriff, trickle down her neck. She was getting antsy. She looked over at Suze. She'd brought out a big book and was reading. It was impossible to tell if Gigi was awake or asleep behind her big glasses.

Van should have brought a book or something. She could be spending time on accounts, except, she reminded herself, she was on vacation. Lying in the sun was boring. She thought longingly of Dorie's air-conditioning. Her laptop . . .

This is for Gigi,
she reminded herself.

She pulled a beach towel out of the bag and spread it on the sand. Lay down on her stomach.

Stayed there for as long as she could. Moved back to her chair.

She pressed a finger to her thigh; the sunscreen was working. She'd never get a tan at this rate.

Suze turned her head toward Van. “Would you hold still? You're supposed to be relaxing. It's a vacation, remember?”