Summer Hours

by Amy Mason Doan

  She’d make sure he got that message.

  Serra’s been so good to me. She didn’t judge me for being with Cal. It was my lies that changed things between us. And the lies had been for nothing; she told me she and Maggie had known all along that I was secretly seeing someone.

  “It was a beautiful wedding, Serr.”

  “It was pretty nice, wasn’t it? The only bummer was that Yvonne couldn’t make it. She has a big case in DC this week.”

  Yvonne is not an attorney, but she has three of them working at her nonprofit, trying sex discrimination cases. It was a comfort after Francine died, knowing that Yvonne’s group would put her millions to good work.

  Serra stretches, surveys her gifts. “Some haul, huh? Holy shit, what’s that giant thing on the floor?”

  “Where?”

  “In the back corner. Wrapped in the funnies.” She walks over.

  “I’ll bet it’s one of those flat packs from Ikea. You should probably keep it wrapped so it’ll be easier...”

  She’s already tearing at the paper before I can stop her. When she realizes, she sits on the floor and leans her forehead against it. “How...?”

  “It wasn’t that hard.”

  “Turn that light on?”

  She crawls down the piece’s length, brushing her hand against the outside, the gleaming silver-blue hinges, lost inside the world she created more than ten years ago. “Who had it?”

  “A very attached collector. It took some persuading.”

  She looks at me over her shoulder, smiling. “Right. You probably had to hunt in every junk shop in Berkeley.”

  “No.”

  After a long silence, she says, “I haven’t spent as much time on anything since. Or maybe I’ve put in the hours but... I haven’t lost myself in them, not like back then. I’m not saying it’s the best thing in the world. But...I lived in it. You know?”

  “I do.”

  “I know right where it’s going. In my studio, under the window. I have a studio now, did I tell you? We converted the garage.”

  “That’s great, Serr.”

  “Becc. This is... I don’t know how to...”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She stands and hugs me.

  Then Glenn comes for Serra; she’s needed for goodbyes.

  “Will you come up again soon? So I can show you how it looks in the studio?”

  “I’d love that.”

  60

  Working Vacation

  The next evening, 8:00 p.m.

  I’m staying a few extra days. I bought more clothes at the thrift store. Soft jeans and two T-shirts, a warm white sweater and a periwinkle scarf for walking on the beach at night. At the drugstore I bought books and magazines, a hairbrush, a toothbrush that’s gentler than the one in my Kourtesy Kit.

  I bought a stack of wire-bound notebooks and a pack of pens.

  I’m going to take my time driving back. There’s no rush.

  I’ve accrued twenty-nine vacation days. Unclaimed days, HR calls them. I haven’t taken time off in years, and the decision alone feels good. I’m going to claim those summer hours just for me.

  Serra is off on her honeymoon. Maggie has flown home; she called to say her soap opera audition went well. She killed as Daphne, and Eliot misses me.

  Eric must be home in New York by now.

  He’s having a late dinner in his high-rise apartment. Or sleeping. Probably sleeping. And that’s okay.

  I slept well last night.

  I’ve worked feverishly all day. My hotel desk is buried in notes and outlines from Francine’s journal. I took only one break around two, to devour a room-service club sandwich.

  A little while ago I glanced up from my desk and saw kids down the beach to my right, running around, gathering wood. I’ve been aware of them all evening, vaguely monitoring their progress.

  I set my pen down, rub my eyes.

  I loop my scarf around my neck and head for the elevator.

  And I realize that this whole day, productive and absorbing as it’s been, has tilted toward this task.

  I take the elevator downstairs to the lobby, follow the long, narrow wooden walkway to the beach. I unbuckle my sandals and hide them in the dunes, under a tuft of sea grass. I roll up my secondhand jeans.

  The sand is still warm from the day, shifting and hard to walk on, but as I near the water, it’s cool and packed.

  There’s a glow in the distance. A bonfire. Kids are pumping a pony keg, blasting the radio. It’s a song I don’t know, a techno beat, the woman’s voice faultless but sterile from Auto-Tune.

  I approach as close as I can without catching the kids’ attention and sit on a washed-up tree trunk twenty feet back.

  He left without saying goodbye, but I’m not angry. I’m only a little sad.

  I know how hard it is sometimes to find the right words.

  * * *

  It’s dark now, and getting chilly.

  I’m ready to head back to my room. Maybe I’ll order a pot of room-service coffee and stay up late working; Francine’s notebook is calling.

  The gray rubber knob of a crutch appears in front of me. I hold still as it digs a large circle in the sand. No, not a complete circle. The right side of a circle.

  Then the tip of the crutch drags, slowly, straight down.

  Lifts up.

  Carves a dot below the vertical line.

  He’s scratched a message into the sand for me—

  ?

  It could mean anything or nothing. It’s not as easy to figure out his intended question as it would be in a movie.

  But I pick the easiest one to answer, the one I want to answer—“Why am I still here?”

  “Yeah,” he says and steps closer.

  I look up. “I’m staying here a few extra days. I’m using up my vacation time.”

  He nods. Shuffles around the log and settles next to me, stretches his booted leg.

  “I’m glad,” he says. “You deserve time off after this weekend.”

  “Correction,” I say. “I should’ve said I’m taking time off to work.”

  “Interesting.”

  “It is to me. I have a lead on a story.”

  “Something juicy?”

  “Francine thought it could be. And I think so, too, now. Why are you still here?”

  “I got all the way to the airport. I was through security. The crutch was a nightmare, by the way. So I’m sitting in my airport chair waiting to board and I thought, I never said goodbye to Becc.”

  The kids at the bonfire are dancing, laughing, whacking the woodpile with sticks so sparks fly up in a glinting, whirling column.

  “You came back to say goodbye?”

  “No,” he says.

  He takes my hand and doesn’t let go.

  Film Page

  February 18, 2012

  Briefly Noted section

  A film about the life of Francine Haggermaker, wife of studio chief Lou Haggermaker, has been greenlit and is in preproduction at Everest/Northpoint.

  The untitled production is based on the 2011 biography by Rebecca Reardon, The Prop Girl.

  Reardon’s research, along with that of her collaborator and film archivist, her fiancé, Eric Logan, uncovered how for a period of four years in the early 1950s, while a junior props assistant at Pacific Studios, Mrs. Haggermaker coordinated payment from her future husband to blacklisted screenwriters and devised a private scheme to mark their uncredited films with a blue forget-me-not ribbon in pivotal scenes.

  The production is slated for an early 2015 release.

  * * *

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my wonderful agent, Stefanie Lieberman, for loving this story back when it was a messy draft without an ending. I’m so grat
eful that you believed in it, and in me.

  My enormously talented, energetic, and sharp-eyed editor, Melanie Fried, never wavered in her support and made me a better writer. Thank you.

  Thank you, Susan Swinwood, Lisa Wray, Pamela Osti, Gigi Lau, and everyone at Graydon House. I’m ridiculously lucky to be part of your imprint.

  Kathleen Carter worked nonstop to get the word out, and Sarah Brody designed a cover so true to the novel that I can almost see Becc and her passenger in that tiny car. Molly Steinblatt has read multiple drafts of all of my manuscripts and her insight always strengthens the work.

  Much love and appreciation to Carrie and Erin Higgins, all the Doans, and the Toronto Masons.

  I scribbled early chapters of Summer Hours inside Powell’s City of Books, surrounded by a fortress of pages. Thank you to Powell’s, you miracle on Burnside, and to all my other beloved indies, including—Broadway Books, Rakestraw Books, E. Shaver Booksellers, Lido Village Books, Cloud & Leaf, Books Inc., Compass Books, The Elliott Bay Book Company, Pegasus Books, and Roundabout Books.

  I’d never have survived my debut year without Authors18, #Binders, and Novel Network. Huge thanks to the book bloggers, Facebook reading groups, and bookstagrammers who spread their love of reading every day.

  Respect and gratitude to the gutsy journalists I’ve had the privilege of working with and those I know only from your bylines: the reporters and editors at the Oregonian, the San Francisco Chronicle, the Orange County Register, the New York Times, the Capital Gazette, the Des Moines Register, the Washington Post, and so many others. We need you. You do your jobs at great personal risk in the face of cowardly attacks from those who fear the truth.

  Mimms—you’re my most enthusiastic and cheerful reader, you’re hilarious, and your heart is bigger than any.

  Finally, and always, to Mike and Miranda: I love you. You matter the most. Let’s go to the beach.

  SUMMER HOURS

  AMY MASON DOAN

  Reader’s Guide

  Questions for Discussion

  The title Summer Hours has multiple meanings in the novel: in the 1990s thread, it’s the name of Cal’s boat and refers to the hours Becc and Eric play hooky from their jobs. In the 2008 thread, the title captures the carefree hours of youth. What does the phrase mean to you?

  In the novel, characters like Becc and Eric are worried they might be “selling out.” How does this notion of selling out shape their actions and decisions in positive or negative ways? What does the phrase selling out mean to you? Is it just an idealistic term, or do you think there is a way to balance dreams and professional realities in life?

  Discuss Cal as a character. Did you understand why Becc was drawn to him?

  Contrast Becc’s relationships with Cal and Eric. How was Becc a different person in each relationship? Who did you feel was better for her?

  Does Becc face more lingering consequences from the affair than Cal? Why do you think that is? Do you think she should have regretted their relationship more, or did she ultimately gain something from it?

  Like the book/movie The Graduate, Summer Hours features a love triangle, but in this case, a woman is at the point. How does the author subvert gender tropes in both the 1990s and 2008 threads?

  Why do you think Becc feels the need to lie or bend the truth in her letters to Francine Haggermaker? Does Francine give Becc any reason to fear her disapproval? Were you surprised by the revelation that Francine was also secretly subversive—much like the Feline Collective—in her youth?

  Discuss the Feline Collective and its mission to expose sexual harassment on campus. Despite the ’90s setting, did that element of the story resonate with you as a reader today? What has changed in society’s approach to sexual harassment?

  Discuss the older generation of women in the novel: Becc’s mom, Eric’s mom (Donna), Francine (scholarship granter), and Yvonne (Serra’s art mentor and the force behind the Feline Collective). How did your view of these women evolve over the course of the story? How did these characters affect the younger generation of women in the novel?

  Journalism, movies, and art play a big role in this novel. How do the changes we see in these fields in the 1990s narrative reflect the characters’ own coming-of-age journeys?

  Summer Hours explores the journalism industry both in the ’90s, which was the beginning of the internet revolution, and in 2008. Compare the journalism context we see through Becc’s professional path to the ways people get news today. Do you think the changes have been positive, negative, or both?

  Were you happy Becc and Eric ended up together, at least for the near future? Or do you think it’s best to leave the past in the past?

  Author Q&A

  What inspired you to write Summer Hours?

  My first job out of college was writing dry newsletters for a commercial real estate firm. I was so miserable that I used to sneak off to matinees in the middle of the day to meet a friend who was also in despair over his career. We knew we were lucky to have any paycheck, and we knew it was bratty and wrong to ditch work, but we got addicted to those covert movie outings. We even developed a complex secret email code like the one Becc and Eric use to plan their meet ups.

  I still remember the movies we saw, the scorched-butter smell of the theaters, the nubby upholstery of the seats. And I remember how our subterfuge, childish as it felt, gave us hope and a sense of control when we desperately needed it. These memories were the seeds of the story.

  Why did you choose the title Summer Hours?

  Cal’s boat was called the Summer Hours for a long time before I settled on the title. He thinks of himself as a rebel and that appeals to Becc. Summer Hours also fits the story perfectly because it all takes place in summer, and every chapter in the novel includes people playing hooky or, to put it charitably, setting their own highly flexible work hours.

  Summer Hours ultimately means something bigger to Becc. She realizes near the end that it was in her secret moments, the times she slipped away from where she was supposed to be, that she was most free to define who she was. As an adult in 2008, she recaptures some of that exhilaration and is ultimately able to reconnect with her younger self.

  In what ways did your own experiences as a newbie journalist in the ’90s inform the novel?

  I graduated from journalism school and started writing for print newspapers and magazines right when the internet started transforming the industry. It’s hard to believe now, but back then web editors used to prowl the cubicles begging reporters to “file something for online” once they’d met their print deadlines. The internet was considered an extra and wasn’t taken all that seriously. Then corporate takeovers and competition from free online media outlets made us wonder if print newspapers had any future at all.

  Like Becc, I was extremely idealistic. I’d grown up in a household that subscribed to two daily papers, and I worshipped reporters like Nellie Bly and Edward R. Murrow, so it was hard for me to see veteran reporters getting laid off, to watch some sites blurring the line between news and advertising, and to hear that journalism was no longer a profession that required skills or standards—that anyone with a keyboard and an internet connection could do it.

  Journalists aren’t perfect, but when I see people today wearing T-shirts that say Rope. Tree. Journalist. Some Assembly Required, I want to ask them, Without reporters, would you know that smoking causes cancer? Would you know about Watergate? If your city council member was taking kickbacks? Certain politicians have vilified the media and weaponized the public’s desire for simple, entertaining stories because, without the media to check them, they can lie with impunity.

  But I remain an idealist. I see journalists doing extraordinary work—risking their lives and fighting to get the truth out there because it matters. And I think that Summer Hours is ultimately a hopeful novel, because Becc devotes her life to di
gging up facts that would otherwise remain hidden. She’s still got that respect for the truth inside her.

  Why did you include so many movie references in the novel?

  They’re Eric’s verbal tic and I’m as obsessed with movies as he is! The ’90s movies give some texture to the story because they bring us back to that era.

  But on a deeper level, movies give us a taste of other lives, so Becc and Eric escape into films when reality disappoints them.

  Were Francine’s “activities” during the 1950s based on true events in any way?

  The 1950s Communist blacklist is obviously real, and blacklisted screenwriters like Dalton Trumbo and Norma Barzman continued secretly working in the film industry via pseudonyms, fronts, or sympathetic producers. But the idea of someone systematically inserting secret messages into blacklisted writers’ films via telltale props is fictional—at least as far as I know. I’d love to find out otherwise.

  Francine is such a steely, wise character. She’d be part of the resistance no matter her age.

  To me, her youthful actions are a form of graffiti that resembled the Feline Collective’s. They both protest injustice and try to get the truth out via unconventional means.

  Why did you choose to include a plot that touches on sexism and sexual harassment?

  I wrote much of the book during the genesis of the #MeToo movement, but the Feline Collective was part of the plot for years before that. When I was in college we all read feminist zines, so it felt natural for Serra to be part of an underground feminist network. Feminism certainly became a bigger part of my characters’ world as #MeToo took off and I grappled with the chauvinism and harassment I’d experienced throughout my life—like so many women are doing right now.

  While Cal seems like a good guy and he and Becc are both adults when they get together, Becc ultimately learns he’s not an ally. He laughs off Derrek Schwinn’s behavior. That “boys’ club” behavior, subtle and unconscious as it may be, is insidious. And I thought it was realistic that Cal would “sail away” while Becc would have to deal with the consequences of their affair for decades.