Summer Beach Reads

by Thayer, Nancy

  They sat at a table in the corner at 56 Union, enjoying their wine and kicking back after a long day of work. It always took Carley a few minutes to get over Lexi’s presence. The blond woman was exquisite. On the other hand, while Carley could never be as tall as Lexi, widowhood had quickly made her just as slender.

  “Let’s not talk about work anymore,” Carley begged. “And not about Gus, either.” She leaned her chin in her hand. “Tell me about your love life.”

  Lexi laughed and tossed her silver-blond hair. “The truth? It’s amazing. Have you met Tris Chandler? He runs a boatyard out in Madaket.”

  “I don’t know him. But obviously, you do.”

  Lexi’s eyes twinkled. “You might have read about him a couple of years ago. He went missing. His boat was wrecked up near Nova Scotia, on Sable Island, which is uninhabited, but did have old fishing shacks for shelter. Some Newfoundland fisherman found him, saved him—it was all very dramatic.”

  “I did read about that, in the paper.”

  “Chronicle did a segment on it, too, on their evening program. But the amazing thing is, the whole time Tris was missing his daughter, Jewel—I think Jewel is just Cisco’s age. I’ll bet they run into each other in school. Jewel Chandler?”

  “I don’t recognize the name. But Cisco’s been a ballet fanatic until recently.”

  “Well, anyway, Jewel used to hang out on the pier near my shop. She was waiting for her father to return. He was gone three months and she never gave up hope. I used to go sit with her. She’s mature, complex, fathoms deep. I adore her. I think she’s pretty fond of me, too.”

  “What about her mother?”

  “Tris and Bonnie are divorced. Bonnie left Tris for a wealthy man, Ken Frost. They have a toddler. Jewel lives with her mother during the week and with Tris during the weekends. We’re planning to get married, Tris and I, but we’re not in any rush. We’ve both been married before, and we have Jewel’s feelings to consider, but we’ve been together for almost two years. We don’t live together actually, although I often spend the night at Tris’s house or he comes to my apartment.”

  “And Jewel?”

  “She seems happy that we’re together. She often sleeps over at my apartment when Tris is there, or at Tris’s when I’m there. Of course there’s no hanky-panky the nights Jewel’s around, but that’s all right. I love Jewel. She’s a very cool kid.”

  Carley ran her fingertip over the stem of her glass as she listened to Lexi talk. Her shoulders relaxed, her breath slowed, her heart warmed. It was therapeutic to hear about others’ joys and troubles, old loves and new.

  Lexi’s face brightened. “My oldest best friend, Clare Hart, is married to my brother, Adam. They have the sweetest little baby boy, Alexander. Alex.” She struck a pose. “Named after me, his auntie and his godmother! They let me babysit a lot, thank heavens, but as much as I love Jewel—and I do, we have a very special bond—I’m still longing for a baby of my own.” She waved her hands. “Listen to me, Ms. Self-Absorbed, going on and on.”

  “Oh, but I’m fascinated! And you have no idea how sick I am of myself!”

  Later, after the steamed mussels and the spicy Javanese rice with shrimp and chicken, they decided to split a crème brûlée.

  “I can’t believe how much I’ve eaten.” Carley put her hand on her belly. “My stomach actually hurts.”

  “You could use a few pounds.”

  “You should talk.” Carley leaned back in her chair. “I’m glad we’re tucked in a corner. I’d hate for anyone to see me having such a good time.”

  “Just because you’re widowed doesn’t mean you’re never allowed to smile again.”

  “It seems that way, though. When I’m in the grocery store and an acquaintance sees me, their faces drop and they kindly ask how I am. What if I said, ‘Actually, today I’m having an okay day’? What if I smiled? It would be all over town in a flash. Carley’s happy her husband’s dead. She didn’t love her husband.”

  “Did you love him?”

  “How can you ask that? Yes, of course I loved him! He was the father of my children. He was my husband.”

  Lexi scooped the last of the silky cream from the little pot. She took her time tasting it, leaning back in her chair, savoring it. Tilting her head, she looked at Carley. “Anything you tell me is in confidence. I know what it’s like to marry a man you think you love, only to discover you don’t really love him at all.”

  “But I did love Gus,” Carley insisted. “We had great times together. Perhaps we were more a family than a couple, maybe we never had that truly, madly, deeply kind of love going for us, but we did love each other. We never would have divorced.”

  “Because of the children.”

  “Right! And his parents. I mean, we had a life.”

  “And you’re only thirty-two. Someday you’ll be able to fall in love again,” Lexi told her. “Perhaps you’ll meet the love of your life. I did.”

  No one had ever suggested this to her before. Carley picked up her glass of water and downed the whole thing, fighting to get in control. “I’m such a wuss.”

  “Honey,” Lexi said, “you’re allowed.”

  23

  • • • • •

  Toward the end of July, the heat intensified so fiercely it became the main subject of conversation around Carley’s breakfast table. Men kept tapping their BlackBerrys and iPhones, checking the Weather Channel, as if that would give them a better report. The entire Northeast coast was sweltering under a heavy layer of heat that would not move. Because Nantucket was thirty miles out at sea, it was a few degrees cooler, but the humidity was brutal. Most huge old houses on the island didn’t have central air-conditioning. A hundred fifty years ago, when they were built, the weather was cooler in the summers. Installing central air was a major expense, involving lots of architectural renovations. Carley had had room air conditioners installed in the guest bedrooms, but nowhere else. Usually a cool sea breeze sufficed to keep things comfortable. But this was not usual weather.

  Sunday morning, Carley had just put in a new load of wash when she heard voices, and then Wyatt and Cisco walked in to the laundry room. Wyatt wore a bathing suit, a ripped polo shirt, a scalloper’s cap with a long bill for sun protection, and Docksiders. His arms and long muscular legs swirled with thick brown hair and when he moved, she could see a strip of white skin under the short sleeve of his shirt, shocking against the dark tan of the rest of his limbs. The healthy scent of fresh air and salt water accompanying him stirred Carley deeply, in a primitive, sexual way that made her turn away, embarrassed.

  “Wyatt’s taking us sailing!” Cisco announced happily.

  “Oh, how nice.” Carley shut the lid of the washing machine. “I’ll get Margaret ready.”

  “Get yourself ready, too,” Wyatt told her.

  “Oh, Wyatt, I’d love to go, but I’ve got—”

  “Just a few hours,” Wyatt insisted. “It will be good for you. You’re turning into a drudge.”

  “I am not!” Carley objected.

  Cisco giggled, glancing at Wyatt with a conspiratorial smile. “Actually, Mom, you are.”

  Cisco was smiling. Cisco was teasing Carley. Cisco wanted Carley to join them sailing. How could Carley resist? Wyatt was working some kind of magic.

  She flashed him a smile. “I’ll get ready.”

  As they rode out to Madaket in Wyatt’s convertible, the sun flashing down on them, the breeze fluttering their hair, Carley laid her head back against the seat and allowed the warmth and fresh air to ease into her bones. Wyatt had a Beach Boys CD playing, and for the first time this season, Carley was really there in the magic of summer. At Wyatt’s house, everyone, even little Margaret, helped carry things out to the rowboat and lift them onto Wyatt’s twenty-two-foot day sailer. Carley helped Wyatt rig the boat. She double-checked the life vests on her daughters, zipped one on her own body, then settled down to watch Wyatt steer them out of the harbor.

  The wind was fresh a
nd fickle, not too strong or steady. Wyatt’s attentions stayed with the boat. Occasionally he gave an order to Cisco or Margaret, who scurried to obey.

  “Open the cooler, Carley,” Wyatt called when they were out in the open water. “I’ve got beer for me and Cava for you.”

  “What do you have for us?” Margaret asked.

  Wyatt grinned. “Check it out.”

  Margaret lifted the lid and squealed. “Popsicles!”

  In a terribly responsible voice, Wyatt said, “Made of fruit juice, Carley.”

  At that moment, Carley didn’t think she would have cared if they were made of pure sugar. She poured the sparkling wine into a plastic cup and sipped it. Bliss. The hot July sun shone down and the playful breeze swept the boat along. The water leapt and hissed and sparkled all around them. She stripped off the life jacket and shirt she’d pulled on over her bikini and let the heat melt her. She closed her eyes.

  When they neared Great Point, Wyatt dropped the sail. “Lunchtime, ladies. Carley, don’t move. We’ll bring you everything you need.”

  “I can deal with that,” she murmured.

  Wyatt had picked up several varieties of sandwiches and chips at Something Natural. Margaret handed them around. The girls sat on the bow, legs folded, to eat their lunch. Carley lounged, sipping her wine, enjoying her food, deeply content to see both her daughters eating hungrily, chatting together about the trucks on the beach, the other boats in the water, squealing when they saw someone catch a large bluefish.

  “This is a sensational idea, Wyatt,” Carley said gratefully.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  She studied Wyatt. He was deeply tanned, and more specks of silver glittered in his brown hair. He’d always been lean, but he’d lost some weight during the past year. They all had.

  She lowered her voice. “How’s it going, Wyatt?”

  He thought for a moment. “To be honest, I’m a little concerned about Russell. He works constantly, more than he ever did.”

  “I can understand that,” Carley said. “I’m finding it really helpful to have to hustle at the B&B. It keeps me from brooding. It gives me a purpose. And I suppose it gives me a sense of control. I don’t feel quite so helpless.”

  Wyatt nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. I see that. At the office, we’ve got piles of Gus’s work to take care of. Still … last summer Russell played a lot of golf. Went sailing. Played some tennis. But this summer, he isn’t doing anything to relax. It’s as if he thinks he doesn’t deserve to enjoy life.”

  “I feel that way sometimes. When I catch myself feeling happy, suddenly I’ll be overwhelmed with a sense of guilt. How can I be happy when Gus is dead?”

  “Gus would want you to be happy. He’d want his girls to be happy, all his girls.” Wyatt reached over and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her next to him. He smiled down at her, and his eyes were warm.

  “And you,” Carley reminded him. “Gus would want you to be happy, too.”

  She knew Wyatt meant to console her, so she was startled by her body’s reaction to the touch of his skin on hers. Signals zipped through her body that had nothing to do with grief or sorrow and everything to do with the appetites of the flesh.

  Carley was intensely aware of her near-nakedness, here in the sun in her bikini. She could see beads of sweat glisten on the brown hair on Wyatt’s legs and arms and on his flat torso.

  “Mom?” The girls were scrambling down from the bow. “We’re getting hot.”

  Carley laughed in response to the inadvertent pun of their words. She flushed with embarrassment, and rose, stumbling as the wake of another boat rocked the sailboat.

  “Right,” she called. “We’ll get the captain to give us some breeze.”

  She helped Wyatt with the sheet as he raised the sail, and in moments the boat was skipping over the water. The girls leaned out, hoping to glimpse something in the water—a whale, a fish, a mermaid.

  Wyatt sailed them leisurely back to Madaket, taking time to show them where the ocean had shifted the shoals, creating sandbars in unexpected places. He demonstrated his GPS system and explained how he turned it off when he fished because he thought the fish finder option took the challenge from fishing. Margaret sat on his lap while he talked and Cisco leaned over his shoulder. The girls laughed, and for a moment, they looked like a family.

  Immediately Carley shook herself. What the hell was she doing? How could she even think about Gus’s best friend this way?

  Cisco had her hand on Wyatt’s bare shoulder to steady herself as she peered over to study the GPS. The line of Wyatt’s neck and wide, strong back compelled Carley. She wanted to put her hand there, too.

  She wanted to put her mouth there.

  She wanted to lick the spot on his neck where sweat sparkled, just where his wavy brown hair ended.

  Cisco turned. “Mom, you should come look at this!”

  Carley flinched at her daughter’s sudden gaze, as if Cisco could see her thoughts.

  “Oh, okay,” Carley answered, hoping her voice sounded normal. The boat wasn’t moving, but she trembled as she stood up.

  She crossed the few steps and, taking care not to touch Wyatt, leaned over to see the GPS. “Cool,” she said, although her heart was fluttering in her chest and she could hardly see.

  A fog drifted toward them from over the water as it often did at the end of the day.

  “We’d better go on in,” Wyatt told them.

  Carley quickly resumed her seat.

  They finished the sail, Wyatt concentrating on navigating through the sandbars and eelgrass into the harbor.

  “Mom, look!” Cisco said, sitting next to Carley and pointing upward.

  Carley looked. Long feathery cirrus clouds floated in the blue sky, their tips tinged pale pink by the sun.

  “It looks like heaven up there, doesn’t it?” Cisco asked.

  Margaret scrambled onto Carley’s lap. “Is Daddy up there, maybe?”

  Carley nestled her chin into her daughter’s hair. Margaret smelled like sunblock, sunshine, and sugar. “I think he is, sweetheart.”

  Carley set her girls about various tasks, picking up any papers, handing the coolers and beach bags down to the rowboat, unzipping the life jackets and stowing them in the cabin. She was uncomfortably aware of Wyatt’s every move. She pulled on her shirt and felt less vulnerable to her raging thoughts. As they lugged their gear to his convertible and dropped their beach bags into the trunk, Carley’s arm brushed Wyatt’s. Once again she experienced a flash of lust so powerful it took her breath away. She couldn’t help it. She looked at Wyatt to see if he felt it, too.

  Wyatt’s sunglasses and cap shaded his face, but his jaw was clenched and he averted his face quickly, pretending to search the ground around them.

  “Anything else for the trunk?” he asked. His voice was hoarse.

  He feels it, too, Carley thought. At the same time, she thought, Oh, stop this, you nutcase.

  They drove home along Madaket Road, with music soaring over them, making conversation impossible. At the house, she forced herself to look at Wyatt, because she would naturally look at him.

  “Wyatt, thank you for this fabulous day.”

  Wyatt was already out of the car. He reached in and lifted Margaret out.

  “Yay, Wyatt, thank you!” Margaret said, hugging him. Cisco climbed out. “Thank you, Wyatt.”

  They gathered around the trunk once more to collect their beach bags.

  “Wyatt,” Carley heard herself say, as if she were a puppet being operated by a maniac, “would you like to come in? Stay for dinner?”

  Wyatt didn’t look at her. “Thanks, Carley. Another time. I’ve got plans for tonight.”

  Carley felt herself flush all over with humiliation. Of course he had plans for tonight! He was dating Angie Matthews! A little sun and fresh air had transformed Carley into a pathetic old widowed slut! Here he had been innocently trying to give his best friend’s daughters a pleasant day and Carley had turned
it into some sick sex fantasy.

  “Oh, right, well, have fun tonight, and tell Angie hello for me, and thanks again, Wyatt!” she babbled. “Come on, girls, into the shower first of all.” She ushered her girls up the walk toward the house. She didn’t look back. She heard Wyatt start the car and drive away.

  24

  • • • • •

  Rain streamed down steadily for the second day in a row. The sky, the air, everything was gray, wet, and steaming in the early August heat. Making beds and laying out fresh towels in the guest rooms gave Carley a few moments’ comfort in the air-conditioned rooms, though at the same time she fretted at the thought of her electric bill. She considered turning the air conditioners off—all the guests had left for the day—but decided against it. When they returned to their rooms, they would want instant relief from the humidity in the cool, dry air. And they were paying for it.

  She lugged a basket of towels to the laundry room. She transferred a pile of soggy clothing to the dryer and filled the washing machine. She folded the dry clothes, sorting as she went through them. Tomorrow the girls were leaving for a week with their grandparents in New York. They were flying by themselves from Nantucket to New York, where Marilyn and Keith would meet them, and Carley was tied in knots of anxiety about the trip. Of course the girls would be okay. The flight was nonstop. In July, Cisco had had a birthday, and now she was thirteen, and she had vowed to be sweet as pie to her little sister. She would be, too, Carley was sure of that. They would be in the air less than an hour. Cisco had a cell phone. Marilyn and Keith had cell phones. The girls would be fine.

  “Here you are!” a woman said.

  Carley jumped. “Maud! You surprised me.”

  “I called your name. Where are the girls?”

  “With Annabel and Russell. They spent the night over there because tomorrow they’re going to fly down to visit their other grandparents.”

  “Good. I haven’t had a good long chat with you in forever! Carley, how are you?”