An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach)

by Mariah Stewart

  “I thought maybe since you worked closely with the first-year kids, you might know of a scholarship or work-study program or something we could recommend her for.”

  “Not off the top of my head, but let me give it some thought.”

  Several students made their way into the room, chatting and swinging their backpacks onto the floor in front of their chosen seats with little more than a glance at their instructor. It was the last day of the semester, and they were all antsy to leave for the holiday break.

  “By the way, there’s a jazz group playing at the Hungry Bee tomorrow night. I was wondering if you’d like to go.” He paused, somewhat awkwardly, which Natalie thought was adorable. “With me. After Yvonne’s Christmas party.”

  “I’d like that. If I can find someone to watch Daisy.” She flashed him her best smile. Their colleague from the history department, Yvonne Connor, had a holiday party every year for the faculty. Natalie had gone in years past but hadn’t decided on whether to go this year. “Can I get back to you? Let me see if I can arrange something?”

  “Sure. Just text me. Or call. Whichever.” More students were walking past, so he backed out of the room. “I should let you go . . .”

  She smiled again, then set her bag on her desk. Glenn was the nicest guy, hands down the most eligible bachelor on the faculty. He was tall and good looking and personable and smart and cared about his students—everything she’d be looking for in a man, if she were looking—and she knew he’d been wanting to ask her out since last year. She liked his easygoing personality and the fact that he didn’t seem to think his good looks entitled him to be a jackass. He always treated the women on the faculty with respect, even that odious Belinda West, who hadn’t said a pleasant word to anyone for as long as Natalie had known her. Still, while Glenn was interesting and nice, there was no spark there as far as she was concerned, and she hated to agree to go out with him and have him think there might be. She’d dated only two men since Jonathan had split, and while they were both nice enough, she hadn’t wanted a third date with either of them. Actually, she hadn’t wanted to date anyone but resisted becoming a once-bitten, twice-shy cliché, so she dated just enough to prove to herself that she could. She understood there were good—great—men in the world. She simply wasn’t looking for one just yet.

  At the close of her last class, she checked her mail in the main building before walking to the parking lot, hunching against the fierce wind that had blown in while she’d been inside. There was a chance of snow, which Daisy was very much looking forward to. Natalie, not so much.

  She got into her car and turned the ignition before calling up the heat along with the heated seat and steering wheel. She remembered learning to drive in an old Jeep that her father had, which suffered from a faulty heating system. As one who hated being cold, the advances in seat and steering wheel winter comfort were greatly appreciated. While she waited for the heater to do its job, she thought about Ava. The young woman would be anyone’s prize student. Natalie hated the thought that she’d have to suspend her education, but a third job wouldn’t give her any time to study. The steering wheel was slowly beginning to warm as she tapped her fingers on it. There’d been a thought nagging at the back of her mind since Glenn had given her the news that morning. She reached for her phone and speed-dialed her mother’s number.

  Maggie answered the phone with a cheerful, “Hi, Nat. I was just thinking about you.”

  “And here I am. What’s up?”

  “No, you called me. You first.” In the background, classical music was playing. Natalie pictured her mother in the sunroom, a cup of coffee in one hand, the book she’d been reading facedown on her lap.

  “Do you remember Dad talking about setting aside some money to establish a few scholarships at local colleges?”

  “Of course. You were in on those discussions. You know he very much believed in paying it forward. He’d gotten his entire education through scholarships.” Maggie paused. “What’s the real question?”

  “Did he ever actually do it? Set money aside for needy students?” Natalie stared out the windshield as light flakes began to sail by on the wind that continued to pick up.

  Her mother was slow to answer. Finally, she said, “I’m not sure.”

  Natalie laughed out loud. “Mom, how can you not be sure? You know where every penny of Dad’s estate went.”

  “I know what your father’s intent was. I just don’t know . . . Let me talk to Alvin and get back to you.” Alvin had handled the firm’s finances for the past twenty-five years. “Or did you need an answer right now?”

  “Tomorrow’s soon enough.”

  Maggie sighed. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on? Why the sudden interest?”

  “There’s a student here—a terrific student, a great girl with tons of potential. One of those kids who had a rough start in life but is working her ass off to make it. I just heard she’s dropping out of school because she’s out of money. Mom, she already has two jobs. I thought if Dad had followed through . . .” It was Natalie’s turn to sigh. “I know we’d talked about it several times, but I couldn’t remember if he’d actually done it.”

  “So we’re talking about one student? For the rest of the year?” Natalie could almost hear the wheels turning in her mother’s head. “But then what happens after next year? Won’t she be transferring to a four-year college once she graduates from community?”

  “That would be the hope.”

  “Let me look into a few things. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Okay, thanks, Mom. And . . . well, thanks.”

  “You’re most welcome. This is exactly the sort of thing your father wanted to do—the sort of kid he’d wanted to help.” Maggie hung up, and Natalie was certain she’d heard a tear in her mother’s voice.

  It wasn’t until she’d picked up Daisy from day care that she realized she’d forgotten to ask her mother if she’d be available tomorrow night to babysit. She still hadn’t decided if she’d wanted to go on that date, though she did need to make a decision.

  The storm that kicked up later that evening made Natalie’s decision for her. By morning, there was over a foot of snow outside the first-floor window of her apartment, and according to the forecast, more snow was on the way. She sent Glenn a text declining his invitation—Roads impassable here. Thank you—maybe another time—and settled in for the first snow day of the winter. With Daisy happily playing day care with her stuffed animals, Natalie snuggled into a deep armchair, her laptop in hand. With a click of the remote, the gas fireplace came to life. Whoever had invented such a thing—fire at the touch of a button!—should be in the inventors’ Hall of Fame, if there was such a thing. Warm and comfortable, her daughter chatting merrily with her friends, Natalie turned on the laptop. After reading and responding to several emails related to work, she switched to the genealogy site where she’d sent her DNA several months earlier.

  The stories her father had told about his great-aunt Lola Barnes had run the gamut. After she’d run away from home at fifteen—this much they knew to be true—the stories became muddled. Depending on who in Art’s family was telling the story, Lola’d gone to Chicago and become a stage actress. She’d moved out west and run a brothel. She’d been one of the first women to play professional baseball. Maybe all of the above. Maybe none of the above. Natalie was no closer now to finding the truth than she’d been when she’d first started, but she was finding the search to be fascinating.

  The first thing Natalie noticed when she signed on was that a message had been left on her account page. She clicked on the mail symbol, hoping for news about one of the relatives she was researching. She skimmed the text once before reading it through from the start, then twice more. Someone had obviously gotten a bogus DNA result. That, she thought, or someone was trying to run some sort of scam. She read the message once more before deleting it.

  Hi—

  I’ve been trying for weeks now to find a clever
way to write this—but it seems I’m just not as clever as I thought, so I’ll just put it out there. My name is Joe Miller and I think I’m your half brother. Actually, according to the DNA results, I’m pretty positive I am. Unless someone has told you more than anyone’s ever told me—except that I’m adopted, which I always knew—this could be a shock to you, and while I’m sorry to be the bearer, as the only child of parents who are now deceased, finding someone who shares my history in any form would be amazing. Hearing from you would mean the world to me. I always wanted a sister.

  It has to be a hoax, Natalie told herself. Most definitely. Like I’d write back to some random person pretending to be related to me? A half brother, no less? Like I’d fall for that long-lost relative thing?

  She snorted. “Yes, because I was born yesterday.”

  Daisy looked up from the book she was reading to her favorite stuffie, Elle E. Fant. “Mommy, you were born in the summer. Nana said so.”

  “So I was. Thank you for reminding me.” Natalie went back to scrolling the list of DNA matches, identifying her cousins Lainey and Alex, several second cousins, and a bunch of third, fourth, and fifth cousins. Dismissing the message from her “half brother Joe Miller,” she resumed her search into the family trees of the more distant matches, hoping for clues to her search for the elusive Lola Barnes.

  The snow stopped for a brief time, during which Natalie bundled up herself and Daisy and went outside to build a snowman. They’d managed to get all three round sections rolled and stacked before the storm resumed with a vengeance.

  “He has no face, Mama,” Daisy protested when Natalie said they’d have to go back inside for a while. “And he needs buttons. See?” She’d pointed to the middle snowball that made up the snowman’s abdomen.

  “We’ll give him a face later when the snow stops falling for good and the wind has died down.” Natalie ushered her daughter to the door and, once inside, stripped them both of wet boots, mittens, hats, and hooded winter jackets. She made hot chocolate, and they drank it in front of the fireplace, where the heat chased the cold and damp from their feet and faces. Lulled by the warmth, Natalie snuggled Daisy’s small body next to her own and watched her daughter unsuccessfully fight sleep. Almost against her will, the note from the man calling himself Joe Miller popped back into her head. She’d been quick to assume the message a hoax, but it occurred to her that he’d have had to be on the website legitimately to even have access to her. But a half brother? Nah. Whoever read the test results hadn’t done a very good job. He might be a second cousin, but not a brother, half or otherwise.

  Still, she couldn’t help but wonder. The possibilities were, well, not possible in her world. She wondered how old Joe Miller was. Was he older, maybe the result of a relationship her father had had before he’d met her mother? But no, there was no way in hell Art Flynn would have not been in the life of any child he’d fathered, which meant he wouldn’t have known about his son.

  The thought that either of her parents could have had an affair while they were married to each other simply wasn’t an option. Could Joe Miller be the child of a long-ago liaison between her father and his mother?

  She soon dismissed even that possibility as not plausible. Later she’d try to recover the message she’d deleted, and she’d respond to Mr. Miller and suggest he contact the research site to report they’d made a mistake. She wasn’t his half sister, but she’d wish him luck in his search.

  Chapter Nine

  MAGGIE

  On the first Monday in January, Maggie dressed appropriately for a Center City Philadelphia law office—a well-tailored suit, heels, and a silk blouse—and headed for the train at the Bryn Mawr station for her monthly visit to Flynn Law. She boarded, then took her seat and opened the newspaper she’d grabbed on the way out her front door, crossed her legs, and settled in behind the arts section. A moment later she lowered the paper, pushed back her left sleeve, and turned her forearm to admire the tattoo she, Liddy, and Emma had agreed on after much discussion.

  That Saturday in Charlotte, they’d filed into the small but neat shop promptly at noon. The artist had been waiting for them, though it appeared to Maggie she was still somewhat skeptical that one of the well-dressed middle-aged ladies standing before her could possibly be the woman who’d given birth to the infinitely cool Chris Dean and therefore given the world DEAN.

  “Which one of you is Emma?” The tattooist sat in a small leather chair at a desk that was way too large for her tiny frame.

  She was a walking advertisement for her art. Vines entwined her thin arms all the way to her neck, which they wrapped around. Roses bloomed on her arms alongside angel wings. A larger pair of wings embracing a flowery heart covered what they could see of her chest.

  Emma, whose stare was fixed on the vines, raised her hand. “Emma here.”

  “I’m Nicole. Your son called and said he’s running late. I hope you guys aren’t playing me, because I’m going to be pissed if someone walks in here and says he’s a roadie for DEAN and Chris got tied up and he’s not coming, and I’ve closed my shop and canceled my other appointments. I hate to be scammed.”

  “If Chris said he’ll be here, he’ll be here.” Emma leveled the not-so-young woman with her laser gaze.

  “You ladies know what you want?”

  “Not really.” Maggie looked from Emma to Liddy and back again. “We thought you might have some ideas we could look at.”

  “Fortunately for you, I do.” Nicole opened a drawer and took out several catalogs, which she tossed on the desktop. “No ideas? Theme? Anything you like, don’t like. Help me out here.”

  “Something with a three theme,” Liddy said as she reached for one of the catalogs.

  “You mean, three of something?” Without waiting for a response, Nicole flipped one of the catalogs open, thumbed through for a second, and turned the book around to show her customers. “Three hearts. A shamrock. Three stars.” She turned the page before any of the three women could get a close look. “Three monkeys—you know, see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.”

  “I’m not sure that applies,” Emma murmured just as Liddy said, “A distinct possibility.”

  “Then you have your Celtic cross. Celtic knot. A Celtic spiral.” She glanced up at them. “Represents the three stages of a woman’s life. Maid, mother, crone.”

  “You lost me at crone.” Maggie frowned and gestured for her to go on to something else.

  “So call her the matriarch. It’s a beautiful tattoo, very popular. It’s a symbol of female power.” Nicole straightened up as the shop door opened. Seconds later her eyes widened.

  “You probably should have led with matriarch.” Emma leaned over the desk for a better look.

  “Tell me you’re still deciding,” Chris said as he walked toward the desk, an envelope in his hand.

  “Oh. Hi.” Emma barely looked up from the catalog. “No, we haven’t decided yet. Nicole—this is Nicole. Chris, she’s going to do our tattoos.”

  He reached beyond his mother to shake Nicole’s hand.

  “Oh my God, you really are Chris Dean.” Nicole sounded as if she was going to need oxygen sometime soon.

  He nodded. “And this really is my mom and her friends. I’m hoping you can help them out a little here.”

  “I’m trying.” Nicole was clearly starstruck.

  “Herding cats?” He raised an eyebrow and smiled.

  “Not yet, but close.” Nicole smiled back and seemed to relax.

  “So let’s see what we’ve got here.” Chris looked over his mother’s shoulder, then flipped a few pages. “Mrs. Flynn, anything jump out at you?”

  “You mean, have I found something I want on my body from this day until the day I die?” Maggie shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “Mrs. Bryant?” He turned to Liddy.

  “I liked the ‘see no evil, hear no evil’ monkey thing, but your mother nixed it,” Liddy told him.

  She pointed to the tattoo of the three
monkeys, and he laughed. “You would each get one, though, right? You wouldn’t have all three monkeys on your . . . where are you getting this tattoo, anyway?”

  “Inside left ankle,” Emma spoke up. “How about a feather? As in birds of a feather.” She held up the catalog.

  “It looks more like a phallic symbol,” Maggie noted.

  Emma held the book out at arm’s length. “Maybe. It’s been a while, though, so I’m not sure how accurate my memory is.”

  Chris coughed. “Mom. Move on.”

  They pored over several more pages before Maggie said, “Wait. Go back to the last page. I saw something . . .”

  Emma flipped the page, turned it around. They all leaned closer.

  Chris tapped on one image. “This one.”

  “That’s the one I wanted to look at.” Maggie studied the image. There were three curlicues, their curves representing ocean waves. “I like it. Three waves, sailing on the sea of life together. The sea is eternal—there’s some quote about that, but I don’t remember what it is.”

  “Good call, Mrs. Flynn. You grew up in a bay town together, and you’ve weathered life’s storms together.” Chris looked from his mother to each of her friends.

  “I like it. It’s small enough to be discreet, and it’s pretty, and it has significance. But not on my ankle.” Maggie pointed to her inner left wrist. “Here. I want to see it whenever I want without pulling up my pant leg, rolling down my sock, or taking off my boot every time. Easier to pull up a sleeve.”

  Liddy nodded. “I agree.” She held up the catalog. “This is what we’re celebrating with our tattoos, right? The fact that all our lives we’ve gone through all manner of shit together and yet we’re still rolling on together?”

  “Mrs. Bryant,” Chris said, obviously amused, “one thing I always liked about you, you always put it right out there.”