“A figment of Belle’s imagination,” Sam said.
“I’ll bet,” Evvie said.
“Last summer a couple of girls had crushes on me,” Sam admitted. “Thirteen-year-olds. I was a man of mystery to them. They followed me around and left me anonymous notes. Whenever I walked within a hundred feet of them, they giggled and blushed and whispered frantic secrets to each other. Neither one of them bought a single book all summer long.”
“Where are they this summer?” Evvie asked.
“In love with fourteen-year-old boys,” Sam said. “Which leaves me free for you.”
“What about wintertime romances?” Evvie asked. “How’re things on Long Island?”
“Different,” Sam said. “I date there. No one girl, though. How about you? Are you in love with some hometown hero?”
“I don’t have a hometown,” Evvie said. “We just moved.”
“Did you leave someone behind, then?” Sam asked.
Evvie shook her head. “Nobody I couldn’t forget,” she said.
“Are you going to forget me?” Sam asked. “When the hot summer nights are over?”
“Ask me next winter,” Evvie said. “Oh, Sam, let’s go into that antique store.”
“Why?” Sam asked.
“Because it has great stuff in the window,” Evvie replied. “Look at that beautiful fan.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t want to spend your money,” Sam said.
“I’m not going to buy anything,” Evvie said, and dragged Sam through the door. The antique store was wonderful, full of musty smells and promise. “My mother would love this shop,” she said.
“She probably does,” Sam said. “This store’s been here forever. Your mother probably shopped here when she spent her summers in Eastgate.”
“Look at this doll,” Evvie said. “Isn’t it beautiful? It looks just like a doll my sister Claire used to have.”
“I hope Claire’s doll had eyes,” Sam said.
“And this piece of lace,” Evvie said. “If Megs had a piece of lace like that, she’d know just what to do with it.”
“I have a few suggestions myself,” Sam said.
“May I help you?” the storeowner asked. “Oh, hi, Sam. How’s your grandfather?”
“Doing better, Marge,” Sam said. “He’s behind the counter today.”
“That’s good,” Marge said. “Can I help your friend?”
“I don’t think so,” Evvie answered. “I was just looking. You have some great things here.”
“I think so,” Marge said.
“This is Evvie Sebastian,” Sam said. “Grace Winslow’s grandniece.”
“Sebastian?” Marge said. “Margaret Winslow’s daughter?”
Evvie nodded.
“I knew your mother years ago,” Marge declared. “We didn’t socialize, of course. But my parents owned the shop when Margaret summered here, and she would come in sometimes. I always envied her, she was so pretty.”
Evvie smiled. “She still is,” she said.
“You look a lot like her,” Marge said. “My name is Marge Dunlap. Your mother isn’t likely to remember me, but she might remember the shop.”
“Did you know my father?” Evvie asked.
“Nick Sebastian?” Marge said. “You don’t forget someone like Nick. That summer, when he first came to Eastgate, there wasn’t a girl in town who didn’t fall head over heels. I remember writing my name next to his. Marge Sebastian. How is he? Still great-looking, I imagine.”
“I have a picture,” Evvie said. “If you’d care to see.”
“I’d love to,” Marge said, so Evvie took out the snapshot she’d shown her aunt earlier.
“My mother’s squinting,” Evvie said. “But there we all are. The other girls are my sisters.”
“I’d heard Margaret had a big family,” Marge said. “Four daughters. You’re all lovely.”
“Thank you,” Evvie said, glad Sybil wasn’t being compared to a potato.
“The day I heard your parents had eloped, well, I up and cheered,” Marge declared. “Of course, I was already engaged to Bill by then, no more Marge Sebastians scribbled on napkins. But I was so happy for your mother. It was an act of real courage for her, defying her aunt that way. But we could all tell she was crazy wild in love with Nick, and he with her, and they belonged together. Sort of like Heathcliff and Catherine.”
“They’re still like that,” Evvie said. “Even with four daughters.”
“That’s wonderful,” Marge said. “I’ll have to tell Helen. That’s my best friend. We always wondered what became of them. Miss Winslow isn’t one for family gossip.”
“Marge Dunlap,” Evvie said. “I’ll be sure to give your regards to my parents.”
“You do that,” Marge said. “And if they come to town this summer, tell them to look in.”
“I will,” Evvie said. She smiled good-bye and followed Sam out of the shop.
“Heathcliff and Catherine?” he said as soon as they had walked a few feet from the store.
“You have to know them,” Evvie said. “They’re very cinematic.”
“Your whole family is,” Sam said. “Although I don’t think Grace Winslow would make it as Auntie Em.”
Evvie grinned. “More like the Wicked Witch of the West,” she said.
“How about we make a little cinematic history of our own on the beach?” Sam asked. “Without benefit of a camera.”
“Forget it,” Evvie said. “Let’s forget cinematic history and family history just for the afternoon. Let’s eat pizza and build some low-cost sand castles instead.”
CHAPTER NINE
Evvie peeked in on Aunt Grace late that Sunday morning. Grace was sitting in her wheelchair, her cast propped up on a footstool. Trouble was arduously attempting to climb the cast. He’d get his top claws in, slip, pull himself together, and try again. Aunt Grace was conspicuously pretending to ignore him.
“I’m on my way to Clark’s,” Evvie said. “For brunch.”
“Brunches didn’t exist when I was a girl,” Aunt Grace replied. “We went to church and had Sunday dinners.”
“Times change,” Evvie declared, figuring that was the most diplomatic way she could phrase it. “I’ll be back by two. That’s when my family’s supposed to call.”
“So you’ve mentioned,” Grace said. “Very well. Enjoy this brunch business.”
“I’ll try,” Evvie said, and scurried out. Trouble tried to follow her, but he tripped getting off the cast, landed on his belly, and became distracted by his tail. Evvie left him chasing after it with ever increasing speed, while Aunt Grace sat in her chair, looking out the window.
It was another perfect summer day, and Evvie decided that after her phone call she’d see if she could go out for a swim. She’d hardly had any chance to swim since arriving in Eastgate. What free time she’d had mostly had been spent with either Sam or Schyler. Not that she was complaining.
“Evvie, come on in,” Clark said, opening the door wide. “Boys, Evvie’s here.”
“Hi, Evvie,” Schyler said. Scotty waved hello from the front parlor.
“Brunch with bachelors is an informal affair,” Clark declared. “Mrs. O’Hara has Sundays off in the summer, so we three boys have been doing the cooking ourselves.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Evvie said.
“Now don’t tease,” Clark said. “I’ve been taking cooking courses, you know. Not perhaps in brunches, but I can now do some extraordinary things with a wok. And my puff pastry is the envy of all who know me.”
“When did you start that?” Evvie asked, following Clark and Schyler into the kitchen. It was, she noted, a state-of-the-art kitchen, with every cooking convenience built in. Megs would kill for a kitchen like that, and Clark only used his a couple of months a year.
“Two or three years ago,” Clark replied. “I remodeled both my kitchens last year. It’s a bit extravagant, but Mrs. O’Hara claims she doesn’t mind.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Evvie said. “I love the skylights.”
“I’d love to see Meg in a kitchen like this,” Clark said. “She was my inspiration for learning how to cook. I thought if I learned how as well, we might be able to do something together in the future. Open up a restaurant or a cooking school. I don’t know what just yet, but there must be a way of exploiting her talents.”
“Your mother cooks?” Schyler asked.
Evvie nodded. “Very well,” she replied.
“That’s quite an understatement,” Clark said. “Meg is a marvel domestically. She can do anything: cook, bake, sew, decorate, raise beautiful daughters. She has superb natural instincts for the domestic arts. She must. She certainly never learned how to do anything other than embroider before she married Nick.”
“Like my mother,” Schyler said. “Only she can’t embroider, either.”
“Mom can cook,” Scotty said, coming into the kitchen. “She can make sandwiches.”
“That’s not what we’re talking about,” Schyler said. “You mean gourmet cooking, right, Clark?”
“I mean anything,” Clark said. “I remember the first dinner Meg and Nick invited me to. She was so proud of herself. I was their first dinner guest. I was worried silly of course, since the Meg I knew had been waited on hand and foot, never had stepped into a kitchen so far as I knew. I remember, I ate an enormous lunch that day, just in case dinner was a disaster. She served beef Wellington. I couldn’t get over it. I checked twice in the kitchen to see if she’d hidden a cook in there. But no, Meg had made it all on her own, just from following the recipe in the cookbook. It was extraordinary. And Nick sat there complaining, saying Meg cooked like that every night, and if she didn’t stop, soon he’d have a potbelly and then where would he be.”
Evvie laughed. “Megs must have stopped, then,” she said. “Nicky’s never had a weight problem.”
“I certainly would if she cooked for me every night,” Clark said. “Very well. How do blueberry pancakes sound?”
“Delicious,” Evvie said.
“That’s a relief,” Clark said. “We’ve already made the batter. Schyler, quarter the melon for us, that’s a good boy. And Scotty, find the four biggest, reddest strawberries out of that carton and wash them. Thank you.”
“Anything I can do?” Evvie asked.
“You can inspire us,” Clark said. “The table is set. I thought we’d eat out on the deck, it’s such a lovely day. Very well, if you must do something, pour the orange juice into four glasses and carry them out. No more than two at a time, please.”
Evvie took the juice out of the refrigerator and poured it into the glasses. The pitcher was crystal, she noticed, as were the glasses.
“We have a set very much like this,” she said to Clark.
“I bought them at the same time,” he replied. “I gave one to your parents as a housewarming gift for one of their moves and kept the other for here.”
“We use ours for special occasions,” Evvie said. “Or for times when Megs feels like it should be a special occasion.”
“Just as I’m doing today,” Clark said, but Evvie had the feeling he used his for everyday events. Special things weren’t quite so special if you were surrounded by them. She smiled, and carefully carried two of the glasses onto the deck.
Clark had the table set with what was probably his third-best china. There were linen napkins artfully arranged, the silverware was silver, and beside each place setting was a tiny crystal vase with little daisies in it. If this was brunch, Evvie wondered what a formal dinner would be like.
“Clark’s outdone himself,” Schyler declared, walking onto the deck with the other two juice glasses. “Breakfasts around here aren’t usually so formal.”
“That’s a comfort,” Evvie said. “At Aunt Grace’s house, this is the norm.”
Schyler laughed. “There are some advantages to baching it, then,” he said. “It is a beautiful day.”
“You look out at the ocean, and you think if you could just squint a little more you’d be able to see Europe,” Evvie said. “Everything’s so clear and promising.”
“I thought I wanted to spend the summer in Europe,” Schyler said. “But that was before I met you.”
“I knew I’d rather spend the summer in Europe,” Evvie said. “But I’d already met Grace, so it was no contest.”
“I haven’t made you change your mind?” Schyler asked.
“You’ve helped,” Evvie said, and she thought quickly of Sam. “But you and all the tea in China are a weak second compared to Grace Winslow.”
“Give me a chance,” Schyler said. “Or better still, give me some time. Why don’t you come out sailing with us this afternoon?”
“I can’t,” Evvie said. “My family’s calling at two, and I want to talk with them.”
“After the call, then,” Schyler said. “If it’s too late for a sail, we could go swimming.”
“I’d like that,” Evvie said. “If it’s okay with Aunt Grace.”
“It will be,” Schyler said. “Clark will see to it.” He smiled at Evvie, who tried to count all his teeth.
“Clark says for you to come back and admire his pancake flipping,” Scotty said, joining them on the deck.
“We wouldn’t want to miss that,” Schyler said, and taking Evvie’s arm, escorted her back to the kitchen.
“I’ve never made pancakes before,” Clark declared as they joined him. “Evvie, are there any tricks I should know?”
“Don’t ask me,” she said. “I take after Nicky. We just eat.”
“They always flip them really high on TV,” Scotty said.
“You’re thinking of pizza,” Schyler said. “On TV, they throw the pizza dough toward the ceiling and then catch it.”
“I am not throwing anything,” Clark said. “I’m flipping. It’s probably an art form.” He gingerly picked up a pancake with his spatula and tossed it back down. It sizzled for a moment, then spread slightly.
“That looks about right,” Evvie said. “It’s certainly golden brown.”
“Golden brown is good,” Clark said. “This pancake business might be a lot easier than people make it out to be. Scotty, take the maple syrup over there and bring it to the table. The syrup is fabulous,” he informed Evvie and Schyler. “Friends of mine send it to me from Vermont. They bought a little farm there as a weekend place, and the syrup comes from their own trees. They claim to tap it themselves.”
“You don’t want to overcook the pancakes, Clark,” Schyler said.
“Are you suggesting we try this one and see how they’ve turned out?” Clark asked. “Very well.” He lifted the pancake out of the pan and divided it into three parts. They each took a section and soon were nodding with pleasure.
“More pancakes coming right up,” Clark said. “Perhaps I should become a short-order cook.”
“I’m hungry,” Scotty said, coming back into the kitchen. “Could you make it real short-order?”
“And then again, perhaps I should stay out of the short-order business,” Clark said, but soon he was flipping pancake after pancake, and dishing them out to the others.
Evvie thoroughly enjoyed the brunch. The food was great, the setting was perfect, and she enjoyed both the comfort of being with Clark and Scotty, and the slight edge she felt with Schyler. After they finished eating, she helped carry the dirty dishes inside.
“The silver will wait for Mrs. O’Hara,” Clark said. “But the dishes can just go in the dishwasher.”
“You are a great cook,” Evvie told Clark as she helped load the dishwasher. “You’re right. You and Megs should go into business together.”
“Someday,” he replied. “Of course Nick would never hear of it until you girls are all grown up.”
“Then you have awhile to wait,” Evvie said. “Whoops. What time is it?”
“A quarter to two,” Clark said.
“I have to get going,” Evvie said. “They’re calling at two.”
&nb
sp; “Give them my love,” Clark said. “And tell Meg I’ll be calling her in a day or two.”
“Fine,” Evvie said. “Thanks again, Clark.”
“Any time,” he replied, kissing her on her cheek.
“I’ll see you out,” Schyler said, and he walked with Evvie from the kitchen to the front door. “Don’t forget, you’re coming back here as soon as you can. And bring your bathing suit.”
“If Grace says it’s okay,” Evvie reminded him.
“She will,” Schyler said. “And make it fast. I’m going to miss you until you get back here.”
Evvie smiled at him, and then started walking back to Grace’s. She hadn’t meant to stay so long at Clark’s, but she’d been having a good time, and the thought of waiting around at Grace’s for the phone call had been less than appealing. Still, time was tight now, and she wouldn’t put it past Grace to announce that she was nowhere to be seen and hang up on Nicky.
Evvie walked rapidly back to Grace’s, and sure enough, within a minute of entering the house, the phone rang. She picked it up quickly.
“Evvie? Hi, this is Sam.”
“Sam,” she said, surprised at how happy hearing his voice made her. “What’s up?”
“I know this is last minute, but I was wondering if you’d like to go swimming with me later,” he said. “I’ll be at the store until five, but Belle says she and Lou can handle things after that. So I thought a late swim and an early supper. What do you say?”
“I say I’d love to but I can’t,” Evvie said. “I already have plans.”
“This is the first summer I’ve ever really minded work,” he said.
“Tell me about it,” she said. “Oh, well. Some other time.”
“How about Thursday?” he asked.
“What about Thursday?” she replied.
“I’m driving to Boston on Thursday,” he said. “I’m leaving in the morning. I … I have to meet someone for lunch. Why not come with me to Boston? You could see some of the sights, and I’d join you after lunch. We could spend the afternoon together, then have supper, and be back here by ten. Do you think your aunt would let you go?”
“I’ll ask her,” Evvie said. “It sounds wonderful.”
“It does sound pretty good, doesn’t it,” Sam agreed. “Almost an entire day together. No Aunt Grace. No Schyler Hughes.”
Evvie at Sixteen Page 9
