"I’d like to welcome the last of our group to our little gathering," David began. "It’s been quite some time since Jamie has joined us, and I hope this is the first of many trips she and Catherine will make together." His small face broke into a playful grin as he teased, "Of course, I assume one of these years she’ll bring a handsome young man to join us also."
She blushed at this prediction, shaking her head a little, while not commenting on the accuracy of it. I promised Mother. "Thank you, Uncle David. It’s wonderful to see you all again, and I certainly hope to be able to attend in future years."
"Hear, hear," David agreed, lifting his Bloody Mary in a toast. Glasses clinked and everyone joined in, tilting their glasses in celebration. Please, don’t let us do this for everyone. They’ll have to carry me out of here!
Luckily, no more celebratory toasts were offered, and the meal continued to the accompaniment of polite conversation. Jamie was seated near a coterie of David Dunlops--her great-uncle, his son David Junior, known as Skip, and Skip’s son, David III, called Trey.
Her great-uncle David’s only other child, John Orville Dunlop, and his son J.C. were also seated near them, and Jamie spent a moment considering her two male cousins.
Trey was just two months, and J.C. three years, older than Jamie. At 24, J.C. was still trying to finish college. He had been thrown out of the best prep schools in the country, and finding a college to admit him had been a chore. But enough donated money can make even the poorest student shine in the eyes of the administration of an under-endowed university, and the Dunlop money had gained him admittance to a small private college in New Hampshire. As it turned out, one too many calls to the local police station had made even the Dunlop money an inadequate inducement, and several small-and medium-sized colleges later, he was crawling towards a degree in American Studies at a degree-mill in New York. With any luck, and an inattentive police force, he would graduate when Jamie did.
Trey had already successfully graduated--from the Betty Ford Clinic. He had been struggling with substance abuse since he was in high school, but he had ostensibly been clean for over a year now. Jamie wasn’t sure what type of treatment program he was participating in, but she had never heard of one that allowed Bloody Marys for breakfast.
Even with their checkered backgrounds, Jamie had always been fond of her wild cousins. She had enjoyed the summers spent in Newport when she was small, since it was the only time of the year that she really got to act like a kid. Trey and J.C. were raised by nannies also, but they went through them quickly. When the families were in Newport, the nannies were left behind, and since the adults had neither the time nor the interest to supervise the children much, they were allowed to run a little wild. Even though Jamie had loved her nanny, Elizabeth, she enjoyed being allowed to play with the boys in unaccustomed freedom.
She had never thought about it in this way before, but she wondered if the burgeoning delinquency of the two boys played a role in her mother’s quick agreement to allow her to stop coming to Newport twelve years earlier. By the time Jamie was ten, J.C. had already been expelled from two schools, and there were more to follow. He would regale her and Trey with tales of his pranks and his nearly chronic class cutting. She always found his stories funny, but even then she thought that he seemed to be crying out for attention from his parents.
"Going sailing later, Jamie. Would you like to go with us?" Trey asked.
"If mother hasn’t planned anything else, I’d love to," she agreed. "I haven’t been out all summer." She fondly remembered the last time she and Ryan had been on the boat, just before the AIDS Ride. The thought of lying in the hammock on the gently swaying boat brought a wistful smile to her face, and she had to blink repeatedly to dispel the images of her love and bring herself back to the present.
"Do you still play golf?" J.C. asked, remembering her beginning attempts during her last visit.
"Yeah, I do. I’ve been playing a lot recently. Would you like to go out?"
"Yeah, Grandfather belongs to two clubs in the area. I’m sure we could play either one of them. How about Wednesday morning? Maybe eight or nine?"
Hmmm…eight a.m.? Maybe he is reforming a little bit. That’s pretty early to go out if you’ve got a hangover. "Fine with me. I’m used to getting up early, so any time is fine."
"Okay, I’ll be in charge of getting us a time," J.C. offered.
Looking around the table, Jamie felt a twinge of sadness to be in this home, filled with so many family memories, so few of which she shared. Over the mantle above the massive log-burning fireplace was a huge oil painting of three generations of Dunlops. It showed Orville's three children--David, Jamie’s grandmother Phoebe, and Louise Dunlop--seated on chairs from this very dining room; younger versions of Catherine, Skip and John stood behind their parents. None of the children of her own generation had been born yet, and she was struck by the obvious affection that Catherine exhibited for her own mother as she gazed down at the seated woman. I really wish that I had been able to know my grandmother, she thought with a tinge of regret. Phoebe Dunlop Smith had died when Catherine was pregnant with Jamie, and even though her mother did not speak of her own mother often, Jamie knew that she still carried grief over her loss. I hope that our kids can spend time with Mother and really forge a relationship with her. She certainly wasn’t able to be very connected to me when I was little, but there’s a part of me that thinks being a grandmother might be easier for her.
Looking across the table, Jamie shared a smile with her Aunt Louise. Louise, born in 1927, was two years younger than Phoebe. She and her husband, Oliver Whitmore, lived in Sarasota, Florida much of the year, but they usually stayed in Rhode Island most of the summer to avoid the heat and humidity of their southern home. Their son Adam and his wife Carolyn were flanked by their daughters, Julia, 14, and Stephanie, 16.
The younger girls were too far away for Jamie to converse with, and she decided to go out of her way to spend some time with them, knowing that it would not be easy for teenagers to be stuck in Rhode Island away from their friends for an entire month.
Catherine’s generation was involved in a passionate discussion about the proposed abolition of the federal estate tax, a subject near and dear to the hearts of those family members who still had living parents. Catherine looked a little disinterested, but she was well trained to be able to appear fascinated by the most boring discussion.
Hearing these ridiculously wealthy people talk about the estate tax like it was going to reduce them to pauper status made Jamie laugh to herself. To the best of Jamie’s knowledge, none of the members of her grandmother’s generation had ever had a paying job. For that matter, no one in her mother’s generation had ever had what anyone would consider a "real job." Adam had previously raced, and now sponsored, Formula One race cars, a pursuit that had never made him any money but allowed him to travel all over the world in pursuit of his hobby. Skip was part of the syndicate that had bankrolled the last America’s Cup yacht--regrettably, a failing effort. John played at being a stockbroker, but his own portfolio made up most of his client list, and his opulent office on Wall Street was usually occupied only by a secretary.
Jamie had often marveled at how much money was still in the family when she considered how little anyone had produced. The saving grace was that Wilbur had only one child who had procreated, and Orville had produced only three, so the fortune had been split only three ways in Jamie’s grandmother’s generation. Since both Catherine and Jamie were only children, Jamie was the eventual heir to a full one-third of the original fortune. Her four cousins would eventually split the other two-thirds. If there’s any left, she thought with a shudder.
Her father had often said that her Uncle David could take an unlimited budget and overspend it. When she observed how he lived, she thought that her father had been too kind in his assessment. David lived in a style that could only be described as baronial. Besides the two young men who had managed their luggage and called them
to brunch, two middle-aged women served the meal, and there was obviously a cook or two in the kitchen. A full-time chauffeur drove David and Patsy in the smallish limo that David preferred and spent the rest of his time washing the fleet of cars that were seldom used or watching television in the small apartment over the garage. Three gardeners made up the full-time staff, and additional workers appeared on a regular basis to do large jobs. The house had both indoor and outdoor pools and a championship-caliber tennis court, but Jamie wasn’t sure who was in charge of maintaining those toys. While you visited the cottage, if your glass was empty, someone unobtrusively filled it; if the sun was in your eyes, an umbrella appeared; if more than three hours had passed, someone was at your elbow offering food. None of the staff looked very old, and Jamie assumed that David either did not pay them well enough to keep them for long or he worked them to death at a young age. He also didn’t seem to know any of their names. He would start to point and his wife, Patsy, would gently ask, "What would you like, David?" After he stated his immediate need, she would call the proper staff member and quickly resolve the emergency.
Thank you, Jesus, for giving me a partner who helps keep me grounded, she thought to herself. There is zero chance of me ever living like this with my baby around. As Jamie toyed with the remnants of her breakfast with the tines of her fork, her mind inevitably strayed to her beloved partner. I wonder what she’s doing right now, she thought longingly. It’s just nine o’clock there. I bet she’s already packed up and waiting for Jordan to arrive. I bet she looks cute…probably has on her favorite sweatpants and one of her roomy Tshirts…Jeez, Jamie, don’t sit here speculating what she’s wearing! That’s just pathetic! A gentle smile came over her face as she spared one last thought. I bet she smells good, whatever she’s wearing. I love the way she smells in the morning right after her shower. Of course, I love how she smells when she hasn’t showered, too…stop it! You’ll never get through this week!
Rather glumly, she forced herself to pay attention to the conversation around her, finally smiling at her mother when the older woman made eye contact and said, "Thank you for coming with me, Jamie. It means a lot to me."
After brunch, Uncle David and Aunt Patsy took Catherine and Jamie on an extended tour of the house. Although she had been at the cottage at least nine times, Jamie’s memory of it was very vague. She had much clearer memories of the boat they used to sail on, and the extensive gardens where she played with Trey and J.C.
The house was a bit different from most of the mansions in Newport. For one thing, it was shingle style, rather than finished with the normal stone or stucco exteriors. And while it was terribly large, it didn’t appear opulent from the outside. Wilbur and Maxine had wanted the home to look like it belonged in New England, unlike the English or French manor houses that most of the industrialists were building. Because of their desire to blend in, the house could have fit in very well on the coast of Maine or Massachusetts.
It was designed by a prominent architect of the late 19th century, but it had never garnered much acclaim due to its understated style. The home was only two stories, but it was designed with a long U shaped footprint. From the front it looked almost like a regular shingle style colonial, but when viewed from the side, it was clear just how massive the place was. There were 15 bedrooms, 22 baths, and two dining rooms--one formal, one informal. There were parlors for daytime and evening entertaining, and a very large unstructured room that could be used for dancing or set up for very large dinner parties. There was a great walnut paneled library on the first floor and a smaller, but much warmer and brighter one on the second. A good-sized balcony opened off of the library and afforded a view of the ocean, one of Jamie’s favorite places to hide out with a book when she was small. The indoor pool was located next to a massive game room, the only place inside the cottage that Jamie had a clear memory of.
Jamie had to admit that David and Patsy had done a wonderful job in decorating the house. They had discarded most of the original furnishings and had spent most of their lives searching out authentic pieces from the Arts and Crafts movement to grace their home. They spent a substantial amount of time every year visiting small towns and hamlets in Britain to find hidden treasures and have them shipped back to Rhode Island, and their efforts had clearly been worth it from a stylistic perspective. Jamie presumed that the home could be donated to the historical society as a perfect example of the movement, but she assumed that they would leave the home to their sons. It was anyone’s guess what Skip and John would do with the home, as neither seemed to have much interest in it, other than as a place to vacation.
After the tour they went to the outdoor pool area to while away the afternoon. Stephanie and Julia were lying poolside with their parents, and even from a distance, Jamie could see that the little family didn’t look very happy.
Because they were at opposite ends of the table during brunch, Jamie had not spoken much with any of the Whitmores. They made their home in the Hamptons on Long Island for most of the year, but Adam spent large amounts of time following his investments on the Formula One circuit. He spent a great deal of time in Europe and Carolyn joined him often, but the girls usually stayed at home due to school commitments. Stephanie had been at boarding school for two years now, and Julia was scheduled to join her the following month when the new school year commenced. The school was in rural New Hampshire and was considered to be top notch academically. Jamie assumed that with Julia out of the house, Carolyn would spend even more time abroad with her husband.
Catherine was particularly close to Carolyn and Adam, much closer than to any of the other members of her extended family. Since much of the Formula One season was in Western Europe, they had purchased a spacious apartment in Rome as their base of operations. Catherine had a small but elegant apartment in Milan, and spent a month or two there every year, so they visited back and forth when they were all in Europe, and had actually grown closer in recent years than they had been when they were younger.
Julia, the younger child, was face down on a chaise lounge, the top of her bikini untied in order for her to tan evenly. Stephanie was dressed in baggy khaki shorts and a man’s style blue oxford shirt. Her chaise was also fully reclined, and when Jamie heard nothing from either of them for several minutes she realized they were both asleep. "So, Jamie, we were just trying to remember the last time we saw you," Adam commented as she sat down on one of the lounges.
"I’ve not been here in twelve years," she replied. "But I believe we spent Christmas together in Rome about eight or nine years ago."
"That’s right," Carolyn said proudly. "I told you that Jamie was there that year!"
"Well, it’s been far too long," Adam said. "What’s been keeping you in California all of these years?"
"August is the slow time for my father at work," she explained. "We would go sailing and play golf and just be able to spend time together. It was really the only time of the year that we got to do that." With a flash of pain, Jamie spent a moment wondering if she would ever be able to spend time bonding with her father again. Even though her mother assured her that her father was just in a funk, part of her believed that there was a distance between them now that would never be breached. Her eyes fluttered closed momentarily as she offered up a prayer that they would somehow find a way to reconnect.
"Hear that, girls?" Adam commented to his daughters. "Jamie likes to spend time with her father." He didn’t seem to notice that the girls were asleep, and Jamie wondered if perhaps they were feigning sleep to avoid being part of the conversation. "I can’t get these two to have a civil conversation with me, much less join me to spend a day together," he admitted with a smirk. "But I guess that’s just part of adolescence. I bet you were the same way, weren’t you Jamie?"
"I’m sure I was," she said agreeably, knowing there was not a shred of truth to the statement.
"Your mother told us you called off your engagement, Jamie. Are you doing all right?" Carolyn asked tentatively, no
t wanting to appear impolite.
"I’m fine," she said rather airily. "It was for the best. I see now that I was too young to be tied down." She paused just a moment before adding, "with Jack." Shooting a glance at her mother she saw that she looked to be holding her breath.
"Are you seeing anyone special now?" Carolyn continued.
Jamie gave her a bemused grin and said, "I wouldn’t see anyone who wasn’t special, Carolyn. But I’m certain that I won’t settle down with a man any time in the near future." Another quick glance showed that Catherine was breathing normally again and looked much more relaxed.
"You never know, Jamie. Love can sneak up on you."
"I know that’s true," she agreed with a smile. "Sometimes when you least expect it."
Jordan and Ryan were enjoying lunch at a fish taco stand in Half Moon Bay when the tinny strains of "Ode to Joy" chimed once again. A delighted smile settled onto Ryan’s features as she hurriedly wiped her hands and grabbed for the phone, getting it off her waistband and open before the third measure. "Hi, Love," she said rather dreamily.
"Hi yourself," Jamie said. "Where are you little jocks?"
Glancing at Jordan, Ryan chuckled a bit and said, "Not many people would look at the two of us and use the term little, Hon. You’re talking twelve and a half feet of volleyball power here."
Fidelity - SF6 Page 9
