Summer Beach Reads

by Thayer, Nancy

  “I stayed a couple of nights a long time ago. My little sister does have style. I’d get awfully lonely out here, though.”

  “But there are people all around.”

  “Eleanor doesn’t own a dog,” Marlene pointed out. “Although,” she continued with a twinkle in her eye, “people can be nice, too.”

  “Mother.” Natalie almost dropped the suitcase on her foot. “Don’t tell me you have a boyfriend.”

  Marlene looked coy. “Hardly a boy.”

  “Well, Mother.” Natalie was astonished. This was an entirely new Marlene. “Come to the kitchen. I have lunch waiting. Tell me everything.”

  Natalie had placed a posy of dahlias in a small white pitcher at the center of the table. That was her only “fancy” touch. She hadn’t seen her mother for over a year, and the Marlene Natalie had known would have scorned “fancy.”

  “I made ham and cheese sandwiches. What would you like to drink? I have fresh iced tea.”

  Marlene was turned toward the large glass door and the lake. “That all sounds perfect. Have you enjoyed yourself here?”

  “You have no idea. I have a lot to tell you.” She set the plates on the table. “We’ll eat outside this evening when the sun isn’t so direct. It’s hot out there.”

  Marlene settled in a chair, took a sip of iced tea, planted her elbows on the table, and scrutinized Natalie. “You’re happy.”

  In the face of her mother’s warm attention, Natalie let it all spill out. “Oh, Mom, I’m in love with the most wonderful man. His name is Ben. You’ll meet him tonight. He’s a good man, Mom. We’re going to get married.” She held out her hand to show off her engagement ring.

  “My,” Marlene said, holding her daughter’s hand, turning it this way and that. “That’s a whopper.”

  “I know. It was his grandmother’s.”

  “What does he do?”

  “He’s a scientist at U. Mass. A chemical engineer. I’m not sure what that means, but I’m learning.”

  “Attractive?”

  “Dreamy.”

  “Does he treat you well?” The question had years of weight behind it. The question had the ache of the husband and father who had been there, then left and never returned.

  Natalie kept hold of her mother’s hand. “Yes. Very much so. I can trust him, Mom.”

  “That’s good.” Marlene patted Natalie’s hand, an unusually affectionate touch. Marlene had usually been more physically comfortable with bulldogs.

  Natalie cocked her head. “You look happy, too. You look—different. What’s up?”

  “We’re talking about you.” Marlene blushed and took a dainty bite from her sandwich. “Mmm. Delicious. Honey mustard.”

  “Don’t try and change the subject. Tell me about this—‘hardly a boy’ friend.”

  Marlene’s cheeks grew rosy. She looked down at her lap, playing with her napkin, folding it into careful little squares. “His name is Joe. He’s retired from a hardware store. Widowed. Not bad looking, although he’s thin as a beanpole.”

  Natalie had never seen her mother so girlish, so coy. “Does he live near you?”

  “Across the street, down the road a bit. That’s how we met. He raises the best sweet corn in all Maine. I told him I’d trade some of my pickled beets. He guesses that I use something more than dill and onions in my beets, but I won’t tell him my secret.” After a moment, Marlene looked smug. “Yet.”

  “Does he have a dog?”

  “He raises long-haired dachshunds.”

  “Get out!” Natalie burst out laughing. Her mother had always scorned any of the smaller breeds of dogs, considering them puny, yappy, and fussy.

  Marlene laughed, too, shaking her head at her own opinions. “Well, they were his wife’s dogs. They’re getting old. He’s learning about my bullies.” Her head raised, her back straightened, her chin lifted in pride. “It might please you to know that I’ve been accredited by the American Kennel Club. I’ve been showing two of my bullies at the New England Dog Shows. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be able to enter Westminster next year.”

  Another surprise. Another tilt of the world, toward the sun. “I didn’t realize you were interested in showing.”

  “I wasn’t, at first. I wanted a protective animal who would be gentle with my children, and bulldogs are great for that. They look more frightening than they are. Once I had Winston and Jennie, I fell in love with the breed.”

  “I remember,” Natalie said softly.

  “You were so jealous of those dogs.” Marlene laughed and lay back in her chair, remembering. “But I was concerned about Slade—you, too, of course. I was afraid he’d stay at home, feeling obligated to take care of me, be the man around the house, that sort of thing, and he’s as stubborn as you. I needed to show him, and you, too, I could be fine on my own, so you could both have your own lives.”

  Natalie’s mouth dropped. “You kept getting more dogs just so we could leave?”

  “Not just so you could leave. No. I loved those dogs. I love the ones I have now. I love breeding them. I finally saved enough money to build the kind of kennel I want for them, with a special whelping room. Lots of bulldogs have trouble whelping.”

  Natalie remembered the dogs running all over the house, jumping up on the sofa, drooling on the rugs.

  Marlene rose from the table. “I want to get my purse. I have some pictures to show you.”

  As Marlene went into the hall, Natalie settled her chin in her hand and allowed herself a moment of silent awe and gratitude that felt almost like a prayer. Her mother looked so different. She was happy. She wasn’t weary, ragged, round shouldered with exhaustion as she had been when Natalie and Slade were children. But wasn’t that part of it—the children had grown up and Marlene now had the time and money to care for herself?

  Marlene came back into the room with a photo album in her hand. “Here’s my new sweetie pie.”

  She passed the album to Natalie, who expected to see a photo of Joe, Marlene’s beau. Instead, a bulldog stood there, posing for the camera.

  “Cara Mia,” Marlene said. “She’s my brood bitch. Two years old and in fine health.”

  Natalie only half listened as Marlene extolled the virtues and characteristics of her prize animal. What fascinated her was Marlene’s enthusiasm, her dedication, in spite of the various difficulties and challenges. Marlene had raised bulldogs for twenty years, and it still lit her up inside as she talked about them. What had Louise said when Natalie was drawing her? How clever of your mother to turn a passion into a way of making a living. Something like that. Watching her, Natalie understood for the first time that she might have gotten some of her good looks from her father, but she’d received her love for her work straight from her mother’s genes. Slade had, too; his love for antique furniture was an obsession. Perhaps there was a gene for professional intensity; perhaps someday scientists would discover it. Bella’s languorous sister, Beatrice, didn’t have it; Ben did, a deep vein running straight through him, like Natalie’s love of painting.

  “Don’t you have any photos of Joe?” she asked her mother.

  Marlene laughed. “You know, I don’t. Which is a shame, because he is a fine-looking man. He’s bald, but his head is a lovely shape.”

  A lovely shape? Natalie’s heart lifted. For so many years, her mother had been entrenched in a deep, dismal rut of loneliness and sorrow because her husband had left her. Was it possible this Joe might become permanent in Marlene’s life? Was it possible her mother might have pleasure, and trust, and companionship? The thought pierced Natalie with a hopefulness that was almost painful.

  After lunch, Marlene went upstairs to take a nap. Natalie began preparing for the evening. She’d invited the O’Keefes, the Barnabys, and Aaron to dinner. Ben had agreed to grill salmon on the deck for her. She marinated it in soy sauce, brown sugar, lemon, and garlic and put it in the refrigerator. She’d made a cold rice salad that morning while waiting for her mother to arrive. She stirred up
biscuits for a berry shortcake and stuck them in the oven. She prepared the spring leaf lettuces in a bowl, ready for dressing at the table. She wouldn’t paint today. Later, though, she would show her mother her work.

  At five-thirty, she woke her mother. They both took showers and dressed. Natalie wore her blue sundress and sandals; she’d told her guests the dinner was casual. She hoped it would be cool enough to eat on the deck.

  Marlene wore a loose lavender sundress and long, dangling silver earrings. Earrings! When had her mother ever worn jewelry?

  “Mother,” Natalie said. “You look fabulous.”

  “Joe gave me these earrings,” Marlene confessed. She tipped her head forward so Natalie could inspect them. They were long, slender twists. “I just phoned him. He’s taking care of the dogs. They’re doing just fine without me. That’s the nice thing about bulldogs. They can be a very quiet, contented animal, and, of course, they adore Joe. I have them in the house now because it’s air-conditioned. They’re in the kitchen. Joe will probably let them in the living room this evening when he watches the Red Sox.”

  “Ben’s parents have a yellow Lab,” she told her mother.

  “Good dogs.”

  “And a cat named Bossy.”

  “Cats.” Marlene sniffed dismissively.

  The doorbell rang and everyone arrived: Bella and Aaron, Morgan and Josh, Louise and Dennis, and best of all, Ben. They settled on the deck, where Natalie had set up two tables with plates and utensils. Conversation flowed naturally. People leaned against the railing, chatting, complaining about the heat, waving at boaters who sailed past on the lake.

  Eleanor’s tables were round, impossible to push together. Natalie had actually considered putting out place cards at the tables because she wanted her mother to sit near one of the Barnabys, so she could get to know the family. But place cards would just be weird, she decided. When the salmon was ready and people drifted naturally into chairs, she was relieved to see that Ben sat on one side of Marlene, Louise on the other, and Dennis across from Marlene. Natalie sat at a table with Bella, Aaron, Morgan, and Josh.

  At first the conversation centered on the Red Sox, who were doing well this year. Natalie had tried for a while to work up the interest to support the Yankees in their feud against the Red Sox, if only for the sake of a good-natured argument, but in fact she didn’t really care about baseball, and as usual, she found herself talking with Bella about which of the new players had the best body. Of course, no one, new or old, could replace Jacoby Ellsbury for sheer gorgeousness and charisma.

  From time to time, Natalie leaned back in her chair to listen to the other table. How was her mother doing?

  “… bulldogs are always described as ‘walking muscle,’ ” Marlene was saying.

  “Mother,” Natalie called over. “How long have you been talking about your dogs?”

  The rest of the table shushed Natalie.

  “I’m fascinated,” Dennis assured her.

  “Especially since our dog is waddling blubber,” Louise added, laughing.

  So it was good, Natalie thought. They were all getting along. The in-laws.

  Later in the evening, as Natalie went in to prepare the desserts, the others got up and moved around, some bringing in dishes, her mother leaning on the railing, talking with Ben and Morgan.

  Bella and Aaron helped Natalie carry out the shortcakes. Everyone exclaimed in delight except for Morgan and Marlene, who were too engrossed in conversation to notice. They sat together at a table, leaning toward each other as Morgan described, in much the same tones Marlene used to talk about her dogs, an autoclave.

  “Autoclaves are steam sterilizers used for high-level disinfection,” Morgan was saying.

  “Like a pressure cooker?” Marlene asked. “My mother had one of those for canning.”

  “Exactly. We can use them to sterilize lab equipment for reuse and waste materials, anything infectious or with blood—”

  Natalie plunked Morgan’s plate down in front her, saying with sweet sarcasm, “I’ve always thought a dinner party on the lake was the perfect time to discuss lab equipment for waste materials.”

  “Well, darling,” Marlene told her daughter, “I need to learn about autoclaves. I’d love to be able to afford one big enough to do the dogs’ bedding.”

  Natalie laughed. “Well, then, ladies, enjoy your conversation.”

  In spite of Natalie’s citronella candles, by the time they finished dessert, the bugs were beginning to appear, so the group carried plates into the kitchen and settled in the living room for coffee. This time, Ben sat on the sofa, and after Natalie had finished setting out the sugar bowl and milk pitcher on the coffee table, he patted the spot next to him. She snuggled up to him happily.

  Bella was on the opposite sofa, snuggled up to Aaron. She looked older somehow. Perhaps it was the new hairdo, pulled back in a knot.

  “While we’re all here,” Bella said, “we’ve got an announcement to make.” She paused for effect, then, with a smug look, turned to Aaron. “I’m moving to San Francisco with Aaron. I’m going to enroll in art and furniture history courses this fall.”

  “Bella!” Morgan looked stricken. “You’re moving away? I thought you loved it here.”

  “I do. We’ll come back often to see everyone. Besides, Morgan, you told us you and Josh have to sell your house and get something smaller, not on the lake.”

  “True,” Josh said. He and Morgan had settled on cushions on the floor, leaning against the wall. “Besides, Morgan will be working all the time.”

  “And so will you.” Morgan nudged her husband playfully.

  A noise sounded in the driveway. A vehicle arriving. Not a motorcycle, but perhaps a van. A moment later, a knock sounded on the door, and before Natalie could rise, Slade walked in.

  He wore khakis and a white button-down shirt, and he was not alone. A woman was with him, a rather stern-looking young woman wearing a business suit.

  “Slade!” Marlene cried.

  “Hey, Mom.” Sauntering over, he leaned down to kiss his mother and give her a quick hug. Straightening, he looked around the room. “Hey, everyone.” He returned to the woman and put his arm around her shoulder. “I’d like you to meet Dina Hannoush.”

  Dina nodded politely. She could be pretty if she didn’t look quite so judgmental. Glasses hid her green eyes.

  “Dina’s father sells Turkish rugs,” Slade informed them. “That’s how I got to know her. We recently connected and decided to start our own shop together.” His smile at Dina indicated something more than professional interest.

  Slade went around the room, introducing everyone, keeping a possessive hand on her arm.

  Natalie said, “Slade, Dina, would you like some coffee? Or anything to eat?”

  “Coffee would be lovely,” Dina said. When she spoke, she became softer. Her voice was deep and melodious, hinting at a gentler self within her severe shell. “Can I help you?”

  Natalie rose from the sofa. “No, it will just take me a moment.” She went into the kitchen.

  Slade said, “I’ll grab a couple of chairs from the dining room.”

  Natalie found two more cups and saucers, poured the coffee, and carried them back toward the living room. Slade had a dining room chair in his hand and waited for her to go first. As Natalie passed her brother, she arched an eyebrow. Slade answered her with a nod that, surprisingly, held no mischief. Why, Slade looked happy.

  Slade set the chairs in the group, and Dina sat down. Slade sat next to her. Natalie handed them each a cup of coffee.

  “Nat told me Mom was coming for a visit, so I thought I’d better get out here and see her,” Slade told them. “And I wanted you all to meet Dina.”

  “Slade,” Marlene said, “I’m so glad you came. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see both my children in the same room again.”

  Natalie looked at her mother while she was answering a question of Slade’s about, of course, her bulldogs. Marlene glowed as she t
alked, and Natalie realized with a leap of her heart that the next charcoal she would draw would be of her mother.

  FOR JOSH THAYER AND DAVID GILLUM

  My knights in shining armor

  Acknowledgments

  On my desk I keep a note I scribbled while talking to my son, Josh. It says: “Quantum theory means that nothing exists by itself.”

  That’s certainly true of a writer working on a novel. Many people inspired and helped me from the first glimmer of an idea to the last punctuation mark of Summer Breeze. I’m at a loss for words to express my gratitude to them all.

  My brilliant son-in-law David Gillum, associate director of Biosafety and Biosecurity at Arizona State University, is kind enough to talk with me about his significant scientific work as if I could understand what he’s saying. Our talks kick-started this book.

  His partner, my son, Josh (also brilliant, and that’s not just my opinion), continually takes the time to discuss things as grand as quantum physics and as small as whether I’ve been hitting the right key on my computer keyboard when the damned thing won’t work.

  Susan McGinniss, Laura Gallagher Byrne, Donald Dallaire, Pamela Pindell, and Deborah Beale keep breaking my heart open with their transcendent artistic talents. Their gifts fuel my writing and my life.

  Samantha Wilde (the novelist and, by the way, my daughter) is always on-target when we discuss plots and punctuation while at the same time she and her husband, Neil Forbes, are tending Ellias and Adeline and Emmett, my grandchildren (who are, by the way, her children).

  Charlotte Kastner, Jill Hunter Burrill, Martha Foshee, and Laura Simon make even my grayest days sparkle.

  Jude Deveraux, you are an angel sent from heaven. Please never go away.

  Meg Ruley, thank you for being a magnificent agent as well as my friend. Thanks also to Peggy Gordijn and the crew at the Jane Rotrosen Agency.

  Behind the scenes are the magicians at Ballantine who made this book happen: Libby McGuire, Gina Centrello, Kate Collins, Gina Wachtel, Melissa Possick, Kim Hovey, Quinne Rogers, Alison Masciovecchio, and Penelope Haynes. Junessa Viloria is so efficient and witty, she keeps me almost sane. Sue Cohen is a brilliant copy-editor. Dana Isaacson once again added his wise touches to this book. Thank you all.