‘I think that’s right.’ Sarah leaned forward. ‘What matters is that they don’t start up again after they get over their fright. I don’t like the idea of them living next door. Ten miles away would be too close.’
Oliver felt a need to reassure her; to offer the tenderness he’d so often received from Grandpa and Twyla. ‘I don’t think they’ll pull anything else.’
‘Neither do I, but just in case they so much as breathe on you the wrong way, let me give you this as promised.’ Evan reached into his jeans’ pocket, pulled out a small black leather case and handed Oliver a business card. He’d never seen one before. ‘My home and cell numbers are both on there, along with my street and email addresses. Here, take two, that way you can keep one on you and put the other away for safekeeping. Don’t worry about calling too early or late. I meant what I said about day or night.’
‘Thanks, Evan!’
‘That makes me feel better,’ said Sarah. ‘Why don’t you give me those, Oliver, and I’ll write my numbers on the back. I just got a home phone and I always take my cell with me even if it’s just to go into the yard.’
Evan handed her a pen. ‘Always best to have at least two contacts.’
Oliver nodded. ‘With Twyla taking care of Sonny Norris she mightn’t be able to leave him if Mrs Garwood wasn’t home.’
‘You will tell your aunt and uncle what happened?’
‘I don’t think I can. They’ve gotten neighborly with the parents and I can’t see them risking messing that up; besides Elizabeth acts like she thinks I’m lucky Emjagger and Stone want to be friends with me. She’d say it was nice they wanted to take a photo of me on the statue and they couldn’t have realized they’d scare me. But I promise I’ll tell Twyla tomorrow when she takes me to church and to see Grandpa.’
Evan drew out another couple of cards and handed them to Sarah. ‘One for you to have on hand. And may I have your info on the back of the other one?’
‘Of course.’
‘Good!’ Oliver heard a lot in that one word. Evan glanced at his watch. ‘I hate to cut out but I have to be heading back to Boston if I’m going to be able to make my dinner engagement with a woman who considers unpunctuality one of the deadly sins.’
‘Having to wait around can be so annoying.’ Sarah’s face didn’t give anything away, but Oliver sensed her disappointment.
They got to their feet and moved to the door. Once outside Evan continued casually, ‘On this occasion I can’t shave off a minute. It’s her seventieth birthday and we’ve got reservations at her favorite restaurant. She also happens to be my favorite aunt.’
‘That’s fortunate. My Aunt Beth is a pain.’
‘Do either of you have plans for next weekend? If not, I could come back Friday or Saturday and take you out to celebrate the pleasure of meeting you.’
‘I’m free either day.’ Her voice was every bit as casual as his had been. ‘What about you, Oliver?’
‘Are you sure I wouldn’t be in the way?’
‘Of course not.’
‘A lady in the era I write about,’ said Evan gravely, ‘would never consider setting foot out of doors in a man’s company without a chaperone.’
‘And quite right too,’ laughed Sarah.
They were nearing the road when Oliver asked Evan the titles of some of his books.
‘The first in the series was Twist, the second Dodge. It got a little tougher after that. They’re based on Dickens’ Oliver Twist, which makes meeting you not only a pleasure, but an intriguing coincidence. Oliver Twist and the Artful Dodger cross paths as adults and pair up as champions of the downtrodden.’
Oliver felt the ground shift under his feet. Coincidence was right! ‘Someone just gave me a copy of Oliver Twist. Grandpa is really big on Dickens, but he’d never read that one to me. Wow! How cool is this!’
Sarah and Evan waited outside until Oliver let himself into the house, where he found Elizabeth and Gerard seated on the facing sofas. No sign of continued friction lingering from her anger on finding her husband drunk. She was leafing through a glossy art magazine. His eyes were closed, presumably listening to the classical music drifting around them from an unseen source.
‘So.’ Elizabeth raised her eyes in Oliver’s direction as he hesitated in the doorway. ‘Did you have a fun afternoon?’
‘Great, thank you.’
‘And have you come up with a name for the newest member of the household?’
Oliver didn’t have a clue what she was talking about until she swiveled round to take in the birdcage. He’d forgotten all about the parakeet. ‘Feathers.’ The name just popped out.
‘Fits.’ Gerard had cracked open his eyes. ‘Are we getting close to dinner?’
As a meal it didn’t count for much of one. A couple of mouthfuls of some sort of casserole, but at least husband and wife seemed back to normal with each other, and there was no mention of Emjagger and Stone to disrupt Oliver’s thoughts of Sarah and Evan and the prospect of being with them again next weekend. If Gerard and Elizabeth didn’t like it, too bad.
When he went up to his room that night he was going to take Oliver Twist into bed with him, but instead he picked up one of the paperback romance novels he’d found in the attic. Hearing from the volunteer at the historical society museum that Miss Emily had exchanged letters with his father made her a much more friendly reality. He leafed through that book and a couple of others before taking up another that opened up close to the middle, for the reason that there was a letter tucked into that space. Oliver’s heart thudded, hoping that it was from his Dad until seeing in the left-hand corner of the envelope the name and address of a law firm. Inside was a single page with the same letterhead above, dated December 1998 and containing only a few typed lines: Dear Emily, I think you are wise not to change your estate plan. To single out one brother over the other for preferential treatment might cause a family rift reminiscent of the estrangement between your grandfather and his brothers. I am always at your disposal, my dear friend. Yours most sincerely, Arthur Rappaport.
That letter had been written four years before Oliver was born. He returned it to the envelope, which he replaced in the book. He lay trying to figure it out. What was an estate plan? Was it the same as . . .?’ A yawn took over his face. The happiness and excitement of the afternoon had made him incredibly drowsy. He would just close his eyes for a moment. Weird thing, time. This time he wasn’t sure that he’d been asleep when he opened them to see the young Nathaniel Cully again – with legs stretched out – on the window seat.
‘So you’ve met them,’ he said. ‘I could have told you everything was going to work out in the way that’s best for everyone.’
‘Right!’ Oliver barely blinked, before snuggling down and re-closing his eyes. ‘Goodnight, Nat. Talk to you later, I hope. I’ll try to love Feathers.’
‘Sleep well, friend. And ask Mrs Polly about the key to the cellar.’
Ten
It was a perfect morning in early July, with just enough breeze to edge the deep blue silk of the bay with ripples of lacey foam, when Sarah came down her wooden garden steps to the beach. She stood taking additional pleasure in the hillocks of seaweed-covered rocks, thinking that those at a distance resembled a miniature mountain range, and that the splatters of greenish brown could have been the tangled tresses of mermaids washed in face down by the tide. Turning, she saw Libby Jennson on the beach. They often met down there on what they thought of as their beach at around eight thirty. Usually Libby had her little dog Sheridan with her, but not today. She explained his absence.
‘He’s at the groomer’s. Want to walk or sit?’ Her hair, with its blond highlights, hung around her shoulders until she drew a ruched black fabric band from around her wrist and converted to a ponytail.
‘Sit, if it’s OK with you. I’m going to collect Jumbo at ten and take him for a run.’ They perched on Libby’s steps, which were wider than Sarah’s. A moment passed with them both eyeing the scattering o
f sailboats set at intervals on the blue canvas as if by a master artist’s hand. The sun was warm on their backs. The perfume of red and white sea roses drifted on the air. Sarah loved it so much she wished she could bottle it to carry with her at all times. Maybe it was the feeling of utter relaxation that eased Libby, who couldn’t be called nosy, into asking her next question.
‘So, are you falling for him?’
‘Impossible not to and Oliver’s crazy about him too. So strong and gentle.’
‘Can’t think of a better combination.’
‘And so obedient. At first I worried some about letting him off the leash in case he took off, but . . .’
‘Hold on a minute,’ Libby interrupted, ‘who are we talking about?’
Sarah returned the wide-eyed look. ‘Jumbo.’
‘You may be, but I wasn’t. I’m dog crazy as you know, but . . . push me off this step if you like – I deserve it – your frequent weekend visitor is who I meant.’
‘Evan. Of course. He has been down three times in the last month since we met.’ Sarah didn’t resent the question. Over the past couple of months she’d grown to like Libby more and more; she’d been generous with her help painting the walls and trim and had made those sessions fun. They had gradually come to exchange more confidences with each other. You could both laugh and talk in depth with Libby. ‘In your place I’d be wondering if romance was in the wind and would need to be gagged not to ask. But no, it’s not like that. Purely, no pun intended, a friendship that revolves around our growing affection for Oliver. That doesn’t mean I don’t find him attractive; I imagine lots of women would and maybe under different circumstances, who knows? What’s wonderful is how much the three of us enjoy being together, and the aunt and uncle haven’t put any obstacles in the way of letting Oliver spend most of his time over here on Evan’s weekends or come over a lot on other days.’
‘Are those two bullies still leaving him alone?’
‘So far so good. And his aunt has stopped pushing a friendship.’
Libby shook her head. ‘What an odd pair, that Mr and Mrs Cully! I’d like to know what motivated them to take Oliver in. He’s wonderful, but have they noticed? Sid says it’s simple, that – as his only relatives – there’d have been talk if they hadn’t, but I’m with Nellie who considers the situation to be very murky.’
‘The spirit guides haven’t pushed aside the veil to step forward with answers?’ There was no bite to the question. Sarah had grown fond of Nellie Armitage; it would have been impossible to not have done given her intervention with Twyla on behalf of Gwen and Sonny and her obvious affection for Oliver.
Libby laughed. ‘Could be they only speak out after Nellie’s tipped them her opinion. I’m never sure how much of a fraud she is, but – as I pointed out to Sid – whatever Sea Glass locals said on the subject wouldn’t have been an issue for them if they’d stayed in New York instead of appearing on the scene and shutting themselves off in that mausoleum. Every time I walk past I think Halloween Horror House.’ She returned her gaze to the sailboats.
‘Twyla’s amazed the Cullys didn’t nix Oliver’s visits here for fear of her trotting down. She’s the one they tried their best to close the door against. As it is, if she, Gwen and Sonny don’t come to us for an hour or so during Evan time, as Oliver and I call it, we go to them. By the way,’ Sarah turned her head to smile at Libby, ‘Gwen’s so grateful to Sid for his kindness to Sonny, taking him out for rides and treating him as if they’re two regular guys who enjoy spending time together.’
‘Sonny seems to prefer it that way – without me cutting in.’ Libby sat with her arms wound round her knees.
‘I hope he knows how grateful I am that he painted the staircase walls.’
‘He does, but doesn’t understand why you should be. That’s the main reason I married Sid – he’s nice. That sounds dull, but I’d learned from life with my first husband that great sex and drowning in each other’s eyes isn’t half enough. It can even end up tasting like stale bread. But the man who brings you up a cup of tea in bed, and rarely leaves the dinner table without telling you how lucky he is to have a wife who can make shepherd’s pie or whatever taste gourmet, gets to be more of a turn-on every day.’
‘Sounds anything but dull to me.’
‘You’ve got it right, Sarah. Having a platonic male friend you can be completely yourself with isn’t to be sneezed at. What time are you expecting Evan today?’
‘Around noon. He plans on staying until Sunday afternoon or evening.’
‘What does he say about the Wealthy Poor House, B&B?’ The place had gotten its name from a Mr Poor marrying a Miss Wealthy at the tail-end of the nineteenth century.
‘Can’t say enough about the comfort and welcome from the owners. They serve such a bountiful breakfast he ends up having two. One there and one here, though mostly mine doesn’t stretch to more than muffins, fruit and coffee. Oliver and I are boggled that he stays so trim. Being tall has to help, but even so he should by rights have gained ten pounds in the last month.’
‘Is it still on for you to bring him and Oliver to Potluck?’ It was the Jennson’s turn this month to host, and Libby had already told Sarah that they would be providing a main dish of spiral ham and au gratin potatoes.
‘They’re both really looking forward to it. We’re all set to make fudge-topped brownies this afternoon. The super-good news is that Oliver gets to sleep over both nights. I did tell you I got a double bed – a queen would have been too big for the spare room.’
‘Yes. Do you need a loan of sheets and pillows?
‘All set, thanks. Evan asked if it would be all right to bring his aunt this weekend, the one he took out to dinner on her birthday, and we were really looking forward to meeting her, but she’d forgotten she had to be at a wedding.’
‘Well, I can’t wait to meet him.’ Several people came striding along the water’s edge. Libby unwrapped her knees to stretch both arms above her head, in demonstration, perhaps, should they glance sideways, that those who sit aren’t necessarily incapable of getting a workout. As it happened Libby was anything but an exercise sluggard. She did badminton once a week and aerobics twice, and never missed taking Sheridan on a good walk. For all his mini-size he was no slouch either. What she didn’t do was run, which Sarah loved to do, especially on the days she had Jumbo alongside. ‘What about Evan’s parents? Any mention of a get-together with them? Don’t they live in Boston?’
‘They did, but both are gone now. His mother died four years ago and his father a few months later.’
‘You said he’s forty, so that probably put them in their late fifties at the time. That’s horribly young these days. Sid’s already had his sixtieth.’ Libby turned her head to look up at her house. ‘I hope Sid’s not stuffing his face right this minute with a full English breakfast, including the fried bread. The only thing that might put him off what he calls good old-fashioned grub is if enough people told him it’s now called health food. Perhaps tomorrow evening at the potluck you could casually mention that fresh fruit and green veggies are now considered the forbidden foods. And toss in yogurt and cottage cheese while you’re at it.’
‘And have him decide I’m not the sort of woman he wants living next door? I don’t think so! Anyway, no need to panic. Evan’s father was in his eighties and mother her late seventies when they died. They’d been married for over twenty years before he showed up.’
Libby visibly relaxed. ‘Any brothers or sisters?’
‘No. He was the late-life surprise. And he said he couldn’t have asked for more wonderful parents. Now he only has his aunt – his mother’s younger sister – as a close relative. But fortunately they’re very close. She sounds delightfully eccentric and I would like to meet her.’
‘I hear a “but” coming.’
‘There isn’t one.’ Sarah hesitated and the words wandered out, ‘Except that I wouldn’t want her to get up any false hopes about Evan and me if she’s hoping he’ll
marry again. Because, even if our friendship did deepen into something more, I don’t see it working out long term. We’ve talked briefly about our divorces. I told him that in the end there wasn’t enough left between us to stop Harris from falling in love with someone else and he said he and his wife had come to realize they wanted different things out of life. He wanted a family – at least one child – and she didn’t.’
‘Hadn’t they discussed that along the way?’
‘People change their minds and she had. It was the same with Harris. He was for, then against, then for again with Lisa. Evan’s wife said they’d reached an impasse. So what’s the point of dragging on a marriage with him unhappy and her feeling guilty? As in my situation, there wasn’t enough love remaining to keep the marriage intact.’
‘Did you tell him that it was the reverse in your situation? That you continued wanting a child when Harris didn’t?’
‘Why get into that? I couldn’t produce a baby in the three years we tried. None of the fertility treatments worked.’ Sarah got up off the steps. ‘The last resort would have been in vitro and by then Harris had gone off the idea.’
Libby also stood up. Uncertainty as to what to say showed in her eyes. ‘But it’s still out there as an option.’
‘Doesn’t always work.’
‘OK. Let’s say your friendship shifts into higher gear – what about adoption?’
‘I’ve thought about looking into that on my own. Lots of single women who want children are doing it. But Evan may be someone who’s set on his own flesh and blood. I know Sid looks on Phoebe every bit as much his daughter as yours, but not every man can make that leap.’
‘But look how he’s taken to Oliver. You’ve told me those two have so much in common they might be twin souls. It could be the same with a child he brought up.’
‘Being a father involves more than being a friend. Besides, Oliver’s one of a kind. He’s already stolen our hearts and he’s not available.’ Sarah looked at her watch. ‘The aunt and uncle will be taking him back with them to Manhattan for the start of the school year. That thought is enough to deal with on its own without throwing in unlikely complications.’
Sea Glass Summer Page 22
