Girls of Summer

by Nancy Thayer

  Thank heavens, Lisa thought. A summer person. She wouldn’t know about Lisa and Mack, and if she did, she wouldn’t care.

  eleven

  Theo had just flown all the way from California, and he was beat. He really wanted to go home, but getting to Nantucket was never easy or cheap, and at the moment, he was tired of traveling. His arm was healing nicely, the doctor had said, but he still wore his sling, and took Tylenol for the pain. He had some oxy left but he didn’t want to take it. He didn’t want to get addicted, plus it made him think of Atticus and then he got sad.

  When he got his aching bones off the plane at Logan, he took a moment to contemplate making the bus ride to Hyannis and the slow ferry to Nantucket, but he was just too tired, and his head hurt. So he thought of calling Juliet to ask her if he could spend the night at her place. True, they didn’t keep in touch regularly, but still, he was her brother. He was her younger brother, so shouldn’t she be willing to take care of him? After all, Juliet had been the responsible good kid, getting all A’s, helping in the kitchen, never doing anything wrong, and somehow not being a nerd. When they were little, Juliet had adored him, playing with him as if he were a pet or a doll, but as they grew older, she had seemed to resent him, probably because their mother had put the burden of cooking the evening meals on her. They all knew Theo couldn’t be relied on for dinner—he was always at basketball practice or surfing.

  Now Juliet would probably hate having him around being injured and pathetic and pretty much penniless, but he was too tired to think of an alternate plan, and he knew Cambridge from going there with friends on high school holidays. He had her address so he caught a bus into South Station and then the T to Harvard Square. He walked to her apartment, hoping she’d be home. If not, he’d lie down right outside her door and fall asleep.

  He climbed the stairs to her apartment. He knocked, politely, on the door. He heard footsteps padding toward him.

  Juliet opened the door.

  “Theo!”

  Theo grinned his trademark little boy grin. For a few moments, he was golden.

  She hugged him, pulled him into her apartment, and slammed the door. “What are you doing here?”

  “I broke my arm.”

  “Oh, Theo!”

  “It’s not that bad.” Theo dropped his duffel bag on the floor and loped over to the sofa. “Only a pain in the ass. I mean the arm. I got slammed by a wave and my humerus was fractured so I have to wear this sling. Do you have any beer? Or vodka?”

  “I’ve got wine.”

  “Wine. Really.”

  Juliet went into her galley kitchen and stuck her head in the refrigerator. “Found a couple!” She brought back two bottles of golden liquid.

  “Hey, let me have the beers. You go get yourself your precious wine.”

  Juliet paused. “It’s seven o’clock here. What time is it in California?”

  “It’s beer time,” Theo told her. “Who cares? I’ve been flying for hours and I haven’t had anything to eat or drink except a small pack of nuts and a Coke.”

  She rolled her eyes, handed him the beers, got herself the wine, and sank on the chair across from him. “So tell me. What are you doing here?” She squinted at him. “Want pizza?”

  “Oh, man, I’d love pizza. But no pineapple!”

  “Broccoli? Red pepper? Any kind of vegetable? A salad on the side?”

  “Do I look like I need vegetables?” Theo asked.

  Juliet made a face at him. “You are still so vain.”

  “Five cheese,” Theo told her.

  She phoned in two large five-cheese pizzas.

  “So how are you?” Theo asked, tossing back a beer.

  “I’m good. I’m fine.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  Juliet sagged against the sofa. “Don’t ask.”

  “So, basically, no boyfriend.”

  “You say that with such relish.”

  Theo held back a grin. He’d bet that all brothers could irritate their sisters and feel sympathy for them at the same time. “Sorry, Juliet, really. Want to tell me what happened?”

  Juliet shook her head. “No. It’s over. He’s moved to New York.” She took a sip of wine. “What about you?”

  “No one serious. Lots of surfer babes, but no one’s looking for anything long-term.” He drained his bottle of beer. “So how’s Mom?”

  “Actually, I’m concerned about her. I was down there yesterday. She’s having an affair with a guy ten years younger than she is.”

  “Go, Mom!” Theo toasted her with another gulp of beer.

  “It’s not funny. She’s got that big house, and she’s divorced and emotionally vulnerable, and I just know he’s going to find a way to get at her money, at least he’ll charge her double what he should for the work he’s doing on the house.”

  “Okay. Slow down. Who’s the guy?”

  “Mack Whitney.”

  “Jeez, Juliet, Beth Whitney’s dad? When I was in high school, I was over at his house a lot. He’s a good guy. I’ve never heard anything bad about him. What makes you think they’re having an affair?”

  “His crew is doing work on the house—”

  “About time. What’s Mom having done?”

  “Oh, the dining room ceiling and the living room walls and her bathroom, it doesn’t matter. He’s there all the time working, but after work he’s still there.”

  “Sleeping over?”

  Juliet shrugged. “I don’t know. I went down on the spur of the moment, got in on the late boat, walked to the house. I phoned Mom just before I got there. I thought she’d be thrilled. But it was ten-thirty at night and she and Mack were sitting on the sofa, and Mom’s clothes were rumpled! Plus, I saw the way Mom looked at him. The last night I was there, I asked her what was going on, and she said she was ‘seeing’ Mack and she liked him a lot and he was terrifically smart, smart I don’t think being the important quality.”

  “So you think he’s hot.” Theo grinned wickedly.

  “What? You are so gross. I don’t think he’s hot, but I think he’s good-looking, and he is a lot younger than Mom!”

  “Well.” Theo hesitated, not sure what to say because he wasn’t sure how he felt. “Mom’s good-looking.”

  “I know that. She’s beautiful. But she’s fifty-six years old! Mack Whitney should date someone his age, hell, he could date someone thirty-six years old.”

  “How old is Mack?”

  “Forty-six. I looked it up in the town register.”

  Theo laughed so hard he choked on his beer. “Nancy Drew.”

  “You are so immature.”

  “Come on, Jules, why are you so worked up about this? Mom deserves to have a little fun.”

  “I’m worked up about this, Theo, because I’m afraid that people will laugh at her, an older woman with her boy toy, and second, and most of all, I’m afraid she’ll get a broken heart when he dumps her for someone else. Also I just know he’s trying to get his hands on her money.”

  “Mom doesn’t have that much money. If Mack Whitney was trolling for some big bucks, he could find dozens of women on the island who are way richer than Mom.” Theo gave Juliet a look. “You’re thinking that money is going to be our money someday and Mack might get it.”

  Juliet crossed her arms defensively. “For one thing, yeah. But honestly, Theo, I’m more concerned about her…her sense of self-worth. Our father left her cold when we were kids. She hasn’t had a serious relationship in years. How is she going to feel when Mack Whitney drops her for the first cute waitress off the boat this summer?”

  Theo nodded. He liked the idea of traveling to his mom’s to help her instead of dragging his sorry ass home to Mommy. “Okay. Let’s go see her. And let’s make it a surprise.”

  * * *

  —

  Juliet
woke early—she always did. Her left arm was crushed up against her head. It took her a moment to remember that she’d let Theo have her nice comfy double bed. He’d played the sympathy card—his arm, and he hadn’t slept in a comfortable bed for five years. And whose fault is that? Juliet had wanted to say, but she was so glad he was here, she said she’d sleep on the sofa. It also allowed her a chance to catch him if he sneaked out to get into her stash of hard liquor, which was nothing much really, only some vodka and rum. In high school, Theo had partied plenty, but sports during school and surfing all summer had kept him clean.

  She heard thunderous snoring from her bedroom. When had she last had a man in her bed? Oh, right. Hugh. Hugh who now lived in New York. Who hadn’t bothered to say goodbye. Her girlfriends said guys like him liked to “seduce and abandon.” Why were men like this? Why had Juliet been so naïve?

  Enough. Tossing back the blanket she’d been wrapped in, she stood and stretched and did a few yoga morning exercises. From the window, the blue sky promised a sunny day. She slipped into the bathroom, took a quick shower, and wrapped herself in her toweling robe. Padding into the kitchen, she started coffee brewing. The aroma was bound to wake Theo. If he didn’t get up by her second cup, she’d wake him herself.

  She opened her computer on her kitchen table and worked for a while. When it was nine, in Juliet’s mind, nearly lunchtime, she called, “Theo! Time to wake up!”

  No answer. No sounds of movement.

  She knocked on the bedroom door, pushed it open, and called, “Theo! Get up!”

  No reply but the snarl of snoring. She always had been the bossy older sister, so it was a natural act to open the door and enter the room. Besides, it was her apartment.

  Theo lay on her bed like an angel dropped flat on his back. Juliet was grateful a sheet covered his torso. She went forward, intending to shake him, but stopped when she saw the Tylenol on the bedside table. And the beer. Obviously he’d found another beer at the back of her fridge and washed the pills down with the beer.

  When did Theo say he fractured his arm? Tylenol and beer, not so good together.

  “Theo.” She leaned over the bed and shook him. “Theo. Wake up.”

  “Uh?” Theo blearily opened his eyes. “Go away.”

  “Theo, it’s morning. We’re going to see Mom.”

  “For God’s sake, let me sleep. I flew across the continent yesterday, my arm’s screwed up, I’m supposed to rest. The doctor told me I have to rest.”

  Theo turned onto his good side, his back to Juliet.

  “Two more hours, and then we’re going.” Juliet shut the door, her thoughts all over the place. Her mother with a boyfriend, her careless brother back on the East Coast. She was sitting down at her laptop when she realized she’d forgotten she had dinner with Ryder tonight.

  She would have to cancel it. Maybe that would be the wise thing to do, anyway.

  She texted Ryder: Sorry, Ryder, I can’t do dinner tonight. My brother just arrived with a broken arm and we’ve got to go to Nantucket to see Mom. Some other time, I hope. After agonizing over the words, she ended the text with a friendly but neutral OXJ.

  twelve

  Lisa woke feeling like a schoolgirl on the first day of vacation. Which she certainly was not. She had to shower, dress, make some sort of breakfast, and open her shop. But she allowed herself another few moments to lie in bed remembering the phone conversation she’d had with Mack the night before.

  She’d left her bedroom windows open slightly. She could hear the birds chirping on the magnolia tree and far away, high in the sky, the hum of an airplane coming to the island. More and more planes would be coming as they brought back the summer people.

  And her shop would be more and more busy.

  She’d talked on the phone with Mack about this last night, one business owner to another. Mack was a restoration carpenter, specializing in old houses, but the big money was made by construction companies tossing up brand-new McMansions. Millionaires eager to live for a couple of summer months in a home with a hot tub, a home movie theater, and a swimming pool often approached him, offering him enormous sums of money if he could build their house, right now. When Beth was in high school, with college tuition on the horizon, Mack had accepted some of the offers. He’d built spacious houses on beautiful lots, but the work didn’t seem true to who he was and why he was living on the island. Now Mack wanted to do the work he loved, restoring old venerable houses instead of building vanity castles.

  “I understand,” Lisa had said. She was curled up on her sofa in her comfy robe, leaning on pillows. She’d turned off most of the lights, because she liked the sense of intimacy she felt while they were talking. “When I first worked for Vesta, before you were born—”

  “Stop that,” Mack interrupted.

  Lisa was determined to keep them both aware of the difference in their ages before they got too close. Before she got hurt.

  “Okay,” Lisa said. “Anyway, Vestments sold clothing for the young and chic and sexy. Very short skirts. Plunging necklines. Skintight and revealing.”

  “I’d like to see you in something tight and revealing,” Mack said.

  She ignored him. “I suggested we sell more traditional apparel. Blazers, silk shirts, long-sleeved dresses. More women came in, and younger women also bought some of the more tasteful clothing. Hermès scarves. That sort of thing.”

  “What do you sell now?”

  “The same stuff, really. Classy clothing. Elegance never goes out of style.”

  “Does Juliet wear what you sell?”

  “Heavens, no. She’s very NYC urban. Lots of black, knee-high boots.”

  “I’ll bet Beth would buy your clothes more often if she could afford them. She’s always liked the clothing you carry.” Mack laughed. “Listen to me, as if I know anything about fashion.”

  “But that’s interesting,” Lisa told him, and it was. Speaking about clothing led them to talking about their children, what they’d been like as children, what their goals were now.

  As they talked, Lisa settled more deeply into the sofa cushions. Somehow this conversation made her feel more comfortable with Mack. Neither one of them went to bars, and Mack never really had, since he became a father at twenty-one. They had the work ethic ingrained in them, and that didn’t bother them one single bit. They both loved their work, the routine, their everyday life.

  “Oh, Lord,” Lisa said after they’d talked for over an hour, “I’m afraid you’re as much of a stick-in-the-mud as I am.”

  “Yes, I think we’re very much alike,” Mack agreed.

  Lisa paused, wondering about the consequences of this conversation. Before she could speak, Mack said, “So the age thing shouldn’t bother us, right?” Again, before Lisa could speak, he said in a joking tone, “I can put up with you being more sophisticated and better traveled than I am, and you can put up with me being callow and inexperienced.”

  Lisa’s heart went into overdrive. I’m frightened! she wanted to say. But Mack was…endearing. She wanted to spend more time with him. She wanted to do more with him. “Yes, I think we can put up with each other, at least for a while.”

  “Great. Okay, let’s go to the movie tomorrow night.”

  “I’d like that,” Lisa said.

  “Then it’s a date. I’ll get tickets in advance and pick you up at six-thirty.”

  “Lovely. Thank you, Mack. See you then.”

  “I might see you before then.”

  “Really?” Lisa’s heart raced.

  “I’m working on your house with my crew, you know.” Mack laughed as he spoke.

  “Oh, right. This conversation took me to another sphere of reality.”

  “And I haven’t even gotten started,” Mack told her with a smile in his voice.

  * * *

  —

 
The movie playing at Dreamland, the only theater on the island, was a biographical drama about a famous singer whose star had faded. It was oddly exciting to sit in the dark room with Mack’s shoulder touching hers, and when Mack reached for Lisa’s hand, and held it until the movie ended, Lisa was almost too overwhelmed to pay attention to the screen.

  But when the movie drew to its conclusion, Lisa wanted to sink in her seat and disappear before the lights came on and the audience saw her with Mack.

  To her surprise, as the lights exposed the room, Mack leaned over and whispered, “Did your high school boyfriend ever kiss you in the movie theater?”

  “Not with the lights on,” she whispered back, her mouth only inches from his ear.

  “Let’s go to your house,” he said.

  The theater was only half full. No teens. As they filed out into the foyer, some people said hello to Mack, some to Lisa, and Lisa’s friends grinned and did a thumbs-up which Lisa hoped Mack didn’t see. Women who were Mack’s age spoke to him before giving Lisa a brief up-and-down glance.

  And Mack put his hand on Lisa’s waist, gently guiding her to the door.

  They walked instead of driving to Lisa’s house. It was a beautiful night, calm, windless, with the moon riding high in the sky. Main Street was bright with businesses staying open late now that summer was here. They held hands and window-shopped as they walked. Art galleries, real estate companies, clothing shops, the bookstore, the pharmacy. Brick sidewalks and a cobblestone street. No stoplights, no neon, only old-fashioned streetlights and tall trees full and heavy with summer leaves.

  “When I walk here, I sometimes think of all the people in past generations who have walked just like this,” Mack said.

  “Yes. I do that, too,” Lisa replied. “I’ve read that you’re either a future person or a past person.”

  “I guess I’m both,” Mack said. “I revere the past, which is why I try to restore old houses, so they’ll be lived in in the future.”