It Happens in the Hamptons

by Holly Peterson

  “Yeah, I can park the car. All good,” Katie said, smiling and happy to be useful. She found this Julia amusing in her honesty.

  Five minutes later, as Katie entered the studio where Julia had saved her a mat, she wondered what in hell they would do in this class. Several different sizes of weights, cloth bands, and P.E.-style red balls lay in piles in a large room surrounded by mirrors and ballet barres. She felt intimidated, but also willing to give her sporty physique a test. She placed her chic but simple white leather purse she’d found for forty-seven dollars at Filene’s Basement in the corner next to a pile of twenty-five different bags costing around four thousand dollars each from Celine, Gucci, Alaïa, Chloé, Stella McCartney, Prada, and Givenchy. The three in precious ostrich hides had price tags north of eight thousand.

  Better that Katie didn’t know the total cost of the strewn bags was well over a hundred thousand dollars. And that wasn’t counting the twenty-five wallets inside costing another two thousand dollars a pop, nor wads of hundred dollar bills in the wallets the women had their husbands’ offices send out. Call it an even two hundred and fifty thousand dollars littered in a big messy clump in an exercise class that absolutely no one was sweating over.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Time for Romance

  That night Katie watched as George Porter walked up the slanted steps of his great grandmother’s cottage and knocked on the rickety side panel of the screen porch. The door was so old and in need of repair that knuckles rapping on it made it bounce open and shut. Katie thought he’d said seven o’clock and this was ten full minutes early. She rushed to her room, threw the apron on her bed, flung her hair upside down and spritzed perfume while she let it hang below her head. Reaching inside her blouse, she hurriedly took off her bra because he preferred her without one, jammed her feet into sandals and walked to the door, straightening out her shorts on the way.

  “Hey, you don’t need to bring stuff for me every time you come here. It’s your house,” she told George. He stood straight up six feet two inches tall on the other side of the screen door with a huge bouquet of colorful zinnias that smelled like he’d just clipped them.

  He smiled and swung open the door his family owned. “It’s your house this summer, not mine. We were pretty clear on that.

  “And besides, these are flowers I love. They’re from Halsey Farm, their corn in August is unbeatable, their field is just better than the others.”

  “You can taste different corn at different stands? Come into the kitchen.”

  “I don’t know what it is, but maybe it’s like vineyards next to each other out in Napa with different-tasting wines. Maybe their soil is different? Their August tomatoes, with just a little sea salt, you bite into like a peach.”

  “Thank you, it’s like these flowers are announcing summer,” she said. As he kissed her forehead, her shoulders bunched up. Katie took the bouquet, wondering what her August days here with those ripe tomatoes and crunchy corn would look like. “Huck’s just in his bedroom working on some Legos; he’ll be out soon.”

  “Well, leave him be. Happy you like the flowers.” George smiled. “They’re from a charming local family. They grow all organic. They rely entirely on their land. I like to support them. They’ve been there since I was a kid, and I’m sure way before that. Amazing cider in the fall, they make the most delicious cinnamon donuts to go with it.” George hugged her hard, and then kissed her neck with a hint of tongue. She let her shoulders relax back to normal position.

  George walked into the kitchen area through a little hallway like he owned the joint (which he, in fact, did). He yanked his too-long bangs back with his fingers and stared at her like he would fall hard forever. “Katie. I’m not sure I’ve smelled good food here in two decades,” he said, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand, and then tugging on her ear gently. “You didn’t have to make me dinner again, but I do love it. And I suppose it’s easier just to let Huck play or sleep while we are together rather than use the sitter.”

  “I like to cook. It’s always simple, but it tastes better at home.”

  “Something I never knew. My mother can’t cook; she just makes canned tuna with way too much Hellmann’s on Triscuits, uses bottle dressing on iceberg, and calls it dinner. I cook a mean grilled cheese, but that’s it. So, what are you making tonight?”

  “Tuna steaks with capers and lemons, new potatoes with farm butter and dill, mozzarella and tomato salad. Can’t get enough basil in me. Do you like pesto? I might add some to the fish.”

  “I like anything you make and everything you do to me,” George whispered into her ear. “And if Huck is staying in there, can we . . . just I need to feel you against me again. Last time was too good. Excuse my hands all over you.” He cleared his throat. “What do you want me to do? You’re stunning now, in this light. Let me take a photo.”

  “Stop!” Katie posed with her hands on her hips for him. She didn’t want to spoil the mood, but she thought his lack of contact wasn’t nice, or even normal. She’d explain later in bed, once they felt closer and more connected. George grabbed her back hip and tried to pull her into him.

  Katie twisted around and snatched the flowers, acting all shy and coy for no particular reason except that she felt he should work a little if he was going to be so distant when they parted.

  “Can I get you wine? I bought a few bottles,” Katie answered. He stopped her constant movement and held her tight, while he let his fingers glide down the inside back of her pants. It felt good to be held, she thought about his expert soft and silky touch. She considered calling the sitter and just going to a local hotel and forgetting the damn tuna steaks. Both of them had their minds now on what would happen afterwards.

  Huck yelled from the other room, “Mom, I lost a piece again!”

  She pushed George away, and started to prepare the meal. They had to wait, but she felt a strong tingling between her legs that made her want to yank him into the bedroom and just get on with it. The sun hadn’t even set, Huck was wide awake, and she was hungry. Katie took a bite of small toasts from a box. “The crackers get so soggy here. The salt air is something I’m not used to. I bought some cheeses that I think are homemade by the farm stand on the corner. They are so creamy and delicious; you were right about the food out here.”

  “I don’t need much,” George grabbed her hip bone and let his fingers trail up her shirt a few inches. “I’m only thinking about that Huck going to sleep. Is it just horrible to ask if we can give him some wine to pass out now?”

  She laughed. “Yes, that is horrible. Let me go deal with his Lego crisis. I’ll be back in two.”

  Her body remained on edge and wanting even though George’s hand had moved away minutes before.

  When she returned, he asked, “You cook well. You like it, really?”

  “I love cooking, I do. I love sharing food.” Katie knew the small talk sounded formal. She threw the kitchen towel on the counter and turned to him.

  “What?’ asked George. He looked alluring and refined tonight, a bright yellow cashmere cable-knit on his shoulders. No one would say they didn’t make a good match, even though they were fifteen years apart. Maybe it was all okay.

  “Nothing, I’m just trying to read you,” she answered.

  “Well, I hope you’re seeing that I’m so happy you’re here. Where’s the wine?” George chuckled. “I’m pouring you a glass, and serving it to you outside. Just, go out on the porch, now. I’ll put the flowers in a vase and see you there in a minute. I said it was your house, but I grew up here, for Christ’s sake. Let me welcome you properly, and get some things in order for you. I’ve been so busy in the city these past weeks. It’s a gorgeous night, go sit in the porch swing, let’s watch the sun set and just have a glass of wine, c’mon . . .” He shooed her away as he scoured the cabinets for a usable vase. “Jesus, I don’t think this place has seen a new dish since 1972. Seriously, go out there on the porch. Sit. Let me . . .” George slammed the 1950s-
style linoleum cabinets opened and shut as Katie walked outside. She plunked herself on the swing, trying not to take his taking over as a declaration of his ownership.

  “Huck, I’m out here,” Katie yelled into the little bedroom window on the side of the house, where he sat obsessively working on a space shuttle launcher.

  “Come say hi to George when you can, honey. When you’re done with the booster rocket part. No rush, though; we’re here.” Katie had placed a small platter on the outdoor table filled with soft goat cheeses and a ball of mozzarella so fresh and runny, she’d had to put it in a small ramekin. In a circle, she’d neatly laid out various crackers from the Carr’s assortment box she’d bought. All were softened by the humid sea air, but she slathered the goat cheese on a cracked pepper water cracker anyway. It tasted perfect. It would go down well with the crisp, cold wine the guy at the little vineyard off the highway had suggested.

  Sex would reassure her. Tonight, they’d have to be quiet in bed like they had last week with Huck in the next room, a flimsy wall separating them. George would have to cool on the experimental, bold stuff. He meant it as festive and energetic; she was game to be manhandled with his immense strength, game to be wanted in the most elemental way. But, when not in a Hilton hotel room, she now had to cajole him to move slower, softer.

  His puttering in the kitchen now unsettled her. She was cooking, and he took over. But did it matter who poured the wine? She felt like someone at the precipice of a mountain cliff, helmet and harness on, not sure why they signed up to bungee jump off.

  Across the short lawn, on the other side of the overgrown hedges, the setting sun danced through the rustling branches in the slight wind. She wished her mother was alive to see this little cottage, this new land. Like most good daughters who loved their mothers fiercely, she rarely had taken her advice, or at least rarely admitted to doing so. Tonight, Katie wanted to ask her mother one simple question: Was this George Porter from the far end of the East Coast a good person to be with?

  “Hello? What are you thinking about?” George asked, swinging the screen door open, a plastic Tupperware lemonade pitcher filled with blooming flowers in one hand, and the wine bottle, a wine opener, and two mismatched wineglasses in the other.

  “Nothing really. Just enjoying the outside air.”

  George grabbed her hand. “It’s so nice to have you in Southampton.” He smiled warmly and put the wine bottle on the table. George placed the flowers in the Tupperware pitcher on a side table, saying, “Sorry, told you it wasn’t fancy here. No one needed a vase in the house this century, I guess.”

  Katie took the wine bottle and opener and started opening the foil as George sat back in the white wicker chair in front of her swing. He leaned back, elbows in the air, right foot placed on his left knee, all confident and masculine, as if he controlled the ways of the planet. He stared at her beauty, how her green eyes became clear in the waning sunlight. Then he uncrossed his legs, poured the wine and then handed her a cold glass.

  “Take a sip. It’s like heaven, that first sip. I see you found that local purveyor, Duck Walk Vineyard, off the highway. Who needs Napa Valley, we have our own?”

  She took a slow sip. He was right. The Chardonnay was sweet and buttery. George grabbed Katie’s cheeks. “You look gorgeous and tanned in the sunlight.”

  “Thanks, I’m just, I don’t know, a little melancholy tonight.”

  “You look like you are trying to figure me out and if I fit into some plan to . . .”

  “I wasn’t, I’m not expecting much of anything except adventure.”

  “You were staring at me like you were calculating something. Your shoulders were so tense when I walked in.”

  Katie smiled and took a gulp. “Maybe I was. I just like things settled, orderly. I’ve had to as a single mom, and it’s hard to feel unsure about what I’m doing, especially with Huck. I’m used to being all set, I guess.” She smiled, relieved he understood and she couldn’t hide from him.

  “You have a cottage as long as you need. You’re doing gangbusters already with the tutor hours. You son is happy. So don’t forget the key pieces are in place. I’m just here because I like you. You’re a lovely woman. And I like what you do to me in bed. Whether I get lucky and that happens all fall, time will tell.” George raised his eyebrows at Katie. “Okay? I’m going to kiss you now. Only because I think you’re beautiful.”

  Katie felt better. She kissed him back, his lips tasting like sweet honey. George sucked on her bottom lip very softly. “Let me make you feel better later.”

  “Are you her boyfriend now?” Huck surprised them through the living room screen, his elbows on the windowsill. His clear blue eyes went back and forth at each of them.

  They laughed. “I just kissed your mother because I think she’s a pretty and kind woman. She’ll answer that question about ‘boyfriend’ in a while, maybe at the end of the summer.” He mock-whispered to Huck, so Katie could hear. “I’m working on that, though. It’s a guy thing that you’ll understand when you get older. We all hope they like us as much as we like them. In the meantime, I got something for you in the car.” George stood, saying, “Come here, it’s a Lego set I bet you never saw.”

  “Oh, my God, another Lego set, George you are fully responsible for the pieces in this one.” Katie laughed, shaking her head. She grabbed another cracker, scooped up some chèvre that had the consistency of ice cream, and smeared it on top. Food could heal almost anything.

  While the boys laid out the new Legos in the living room, Katie put dinner on the table. George asked if Huck could sit with them and, though he’d been fed some noodles and chicken much earlier, the child liked being asked. She studied how her son watched George. She couldn’t tell if Huck was wary or in awe of his gentlemanly way, his perfect manners.

  George stood to pull out her chair every time she got up. He grabbed the wine bottle from her and poured it every time she wanted a little more. She appreciated how he asked Huck for his every opinion, even on things he had no business talking about.

  “What does this little man think, that’s what I want to know,” George asked Huck when they were talking about Katie tutoring kids, and if she should seek out only kids with learning disabilities. “To get as many little clients as possible, should your mom say she’s really good with kids who don’t read as well and as fast as you do? Or should she say she’s just a tutor of English and reading in general?”

  Huck looked up at George, with a look that said this guy’s weird. “I don’t know. How am I supposed to know what parents want?”

  George laughed. “Okay, well, you’re a smart kid. Do you think it helps that your mom is good at helping kids who can’t read that well?”

  Huck scrunched up his mouth into a little ball to one side of his face. “I think, yes, that makes her a nice person.”

  George and Katie laughed again. “Well, that she is.”

  After dinner, while George and Katie polished off the bottle of wine and half of another, Huck passed out on his floor, the Legos he was lying on stamping little circled prints onto his face. Like a paternal knight, George gently lifted him and carried him to his bed.

  Being the owner of the house, he then decided to take Katie into the bedroom.

  She sat on the edge and unbuttoned her blouse first, and then he walked in front of her and pushed her back farther on the king-size bed so she lay comfortably. She lit a candle to set the mood, a little slower perhaps, a little less calisthenics with her child in the next room.

  Apparently George got the message and was more adaptive than she may have given him credit for. “Tonight, no mauling, I’m going to take it so slow, you’re going to be in agony you want it so bad.”

  He kissed her neck, then her breasts, so slowly she could count the seconds ticking. She actually wanted him to move on. She tried to get on top of him, but he held her arms down hard above her head. Now, she could hardly stand waiting. She arched her back and circled her shoulders a few tim
es to ease her body into this newer slow motion tactic. His shoulders and chest were more substantial than she remembered, his body heavier, clearly hard and ready. He played with her nipples with his tongue until finally he slipped both hands down her pants—one in front, one in back—his fingers meeting in between. He then kissed her stomach, slowly opening the buttons of her jeans.

  As Katie guided George’s entire head with both hands, biting lightly, licking like the master he was, she thought, this is all going to be just fine.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ridiculously Extravagant and Incredibly Cheap

  Tuesday, June 27

  On the way up to the Chase oceanfront estate for lunch, automatic sprinklers watered the expansive landscaping. Kona and Luke used them to rinse the sand off their feet before ringing the doorbell. After four years of taking care of their younger kids, this was the first summer they had ever been invited in the home as guests. Twice.

  Only this day was not social in their minds: they were on a mission that could be career ending or career saving: to get Jake on their side to help them fight the town trustees. They’d received three more summonses, one over a boat registration issue, overcapacity at camp, and an overdue docking fee—all things they’d never before been busted on. Mrs. Saltzman having made payment on a town beach illegally and Jake illegally driving into camp headquarters wasn’t helping. Over the weekend they received a menacing call from the town treasurer for a meeting to clarify “legal issues and matters.”

  Sixty consistent families, dozens and dozens of other random kids who’d come for a day or two, countless adults who’d learned to love the ocean, all screwed because of a group of overreaching people wanted a small area on a beach clear of messy boards.

  “We’re going to stick with the strategy, right? You lay out the big picture, and I explain the details.” Luke knew he’d have to cancel his cable TV and eat ramen noodles all year if they couldn’t get Jake on board to help their case. Camp pretty much doubled his teaching income, and the potential loss had kept him up all night. That was before the bay constable had even slapped them with today’s summons over the docking fee.