All Our Summers

by Holly Chamberlin

  Bonnie watched as Carol made her way through the crowd of guests. Some of them were obviously in awe of her. Others were merely friendly in their greetings. No one ignored Carol or was in the least bit rude. That was Yorktide, Bonnie thought proudly. Sure, there were a few nasty gossips and troublemakers around town, but only a few, and they were not and never had been friends with the Ascher or Elgort families.

  A guest waved and began to make her way toward Bonnie. Eleanor Keats was a tall, slim, attractive woman of about fifty. She was the author of a popular series of vampire mysteries. She had never married, though Bonnie remembered hearing through the grapevine that there had once been a man in Eleanor’s life. A married man, when Eleanor was in graduate school in Boston. But then Eleanor had come back to Yorktide alone and had continued alone for the past twenty years.

  “This must be a bit trying for you,” Eleanor said. “The first party without Ken.”

  “Yes,” Bonnie admitted. “It is.”

  “I think he’d say it was a success. Except, maybe, for the easels . . .”

  Bonnie smiled. “Yes, well, my sister is used to a very different sort of party I guess.”

  “Good for her for trying to introduce something new, though. It doesn’t hurt to shake things up once in a while.” Eleanor smiled. “You must be thrilled she’s here in Yorktide for the summer.”

  “Yes,” Bonnie said flatly. “It’s very nice.”

  “I suppose once she’s gone back to New York you’ll miss her. And with Nicola going off to a far corner of the world things will be pretty quiet around here, won’t they?”

  “Nicola hasn’t actually committed to the Peace Corps yet,” Bonnie blurted, wondering if she was telling tales. She didn’t mean to be; she just wanted Eleanor to stop talking. “Will you excuse me?” she asked. “I need to check on the food.”

  So, word of Carol Ascher’s plans to inhabit Ferndean House hadn’t gotten around town. That was a bit of a miracle. Maybe, Bonnie thought suddenly, she should find her sister and talk to her. And say what? Lie about the success of her fancy drinks? Ask if she was enjoying the party when it was pretty likely she was not?

  Really, Carol offering to pay for the food and beverages as if her sister was a pauper, as if Carol’s money came anywhere near equaling the hard, physical work Bonnie and Ken had done for all those years! They were the ones who knew about dedication. They were the ones who knew about devotion.

  Bonnie took a steadying breath and turning away from the crowd, she headed for the house. She needed to be alone before the tears started to flow.

  Chapter 74

  There were excited shouts from the horseshoe pitch. There was laughter from the corner of the yard where a few of the guests were playing badminton. There were hoots and hollers from a group of men playing a game of bocce ball.

  There was silence from the semicircle of easels. Carol thought they looked downright pitiful, standing there on their slender legs, all on their own and neglected.

  Judith was making her way toward Carol, a jaunty, wide-brimmed straw hat perched on her head.

  “The easels aren’t a big draw, are they?” she said as she approached. “Pardon the pun.”

  “Someone tried her hand,” Carol pointed out. “Look. There’s a rendering of something or other on the easel on the end. It’s not very good. In fact, it’s awful, but at least someone had the right spirit.”

  “That was me,” Judith said. “It’s supposed to be a lighthouse.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  “No worries. Maybe I should have doodled something on every canvas. Where did you get this stuff, anyway?”

  “I rented it from an art supply place in Portland.”

  “Must have cost a pretty penny.”

  Carol didn’t reply.

  “Why don’t you paint something?” Judith suggested. “You know, a city slicker being drawn and quartered.”

  “I’m not in the mood,” Carol said sharply. “Have you seen Nicola?”

  “The last time I did she was carrying a case of soda. By the way, I had one of those gin cocktails. Wow. Packed quite a punch. I’m on water for the rest of the afternoon. Look, there’s what’s-her-name. I told you about her, the girl who used to terrorize me in high school. I think I’ll go and say howdy.”

  Judith traipsed off. Carol wished that she could disappear, get in her car and drive and drive, and only return when this annoying afternoon was over. Before she could give this idea any serious consideration (who would miss her?) she was being accosted by one of the guests.

  Carol remembered him. How could she not when his name was Edgar Poe? He was badly bent and a little unsteady on his feet, but his voice was booming and his eyes bright. He wore a threadbare white shirt (well, it had once been white) partly tucked into a pair of very faded blue pants that were held up by red suspenders.

  “It’s not the same without Ken manning the grill. And what an arm for bocce he had.” Edgar eyed Carol keenly. “Weren’t the two of you courting once upon a time?”

  Carol nodded tersely. The memory of a small town was a formidable thing.

  Edgar chuckled. “Well, that was a mismatch if ever there was one! Now the moment Ken turned his attentions to your sister, we all knew that was a pair made in heaven. It’s just too bad he’s no longer with us. We weren’t finished with Ken Elgort here in Yorktide, not by far.”

  Edgar nodded and made his way across the grass to the food table. Somehow, Carol wasn’t surprised when she saw him take a huge bite out of a hot dog. The man had to be near ninety, but she suspected he would be at next year’s party, and the one after that.

  A burst of shrill female laughter caught her attention. It had come from one of three young women sitting at one of the heavy plastic tables Bonnie and Nicola had found in the depths of Ferndean’s garage. People were really enjoying themselves. Carol hadn’t been to a party like this in years—casual, raucous, with absolutely no sense of an interest in impressing one’s fellow guests.

  She felt out of place.

  She was out of place.

  Unlike Bonnie. Carol had spoken to her briefly as the first of the guests were arriving. After that, her sister had darted off. Three hours later and Bonnie was still buzzing around like a bee, clearly enjoying being the Hostess with a capital H. If Ken’s absence was bothering her she wasn’t letting on to her guests. Carol admired that kind of fortitude.

  Carol glanced again at the forlorn easels. It was rare she judged so badly. Judith had tried to warn her, but Carol’s hubris had gotten in the way of common sense. Hubris and a genuine desire to help her sister in her hosting duties.

  The desire truly had been genuine.

  Chapter 75

  Nicola wasn’t really one for parties, but her aunt and uncle’s Fourth of July celebration had always been an exception. There were several reasons for this, the main one being that because the Elgorts were so well loved by everyone in Yorktide, the mood of their guests was invariably happy and thankful. And the fact that Bonnie always made massive amounts of her famous clam chowder also made the party one Nicola had no trouble enjoying.

  But this year, so much was different.

  What had happened to her family? Nicola frowned as she caught sight of Sophie sitting by herself at a small table. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest and there was a frown on her face. Earlier, Nicola had tried to engage Sophie in conversation, but Sophie had just grunted and shrugged. So, Nicola had moved on to chat with other guests, many of whom wanted to offer yet again a word of condolence on the loss of her uncle. Even after almost a year it was still difficult to speak about Ken in the past tense; often, Nicola simply gave up trying and spoke of her uncle as if he were still there with his family. And he was. Just not in the flesh.

  Nicola scanned the yard until she found her cousin; like her daughter, Julie was on her own and looking miserable. There were times when her cousin’s depressed state annoyed Nicola. She knew that Julie had not asked to be cheated on
or to fall prey to this state of sadness and self-loathing, but all the same, it could be trying to be around her.

  Where was Scott? She had lost track of him for a moment. So far, he had been spreading his attention among the guests, not lingering too long with any of the women, laughing with some of the men. The affair had happened months ago and while no one could have forgotten, no one at the party seemed eager to remind him of what had gone on with Laci Fox. Scott Miller was a local boy; he had always been well-liked; clearly, he had been forgiven his utterly commonplace dalliance.

  Still, Nicola thought, Scott should be at his wife’s side.

  A loud giggle, followed by a low rumble of male laughter, caused Nicola to turn to her left, where she saw a teenaged girl and a guy in his twenties standing by one of the easels her mother had provided. Nicola squinted and the cause of the couple’s amusement became clear. The guy—it had to have been him—had scribbled a rude image on the paper. Nicola sighed, knowing she had to remove the offending image, but before she could take a step the young man yanked the paper off the easel, grabbed the girl’s hand, and led her away.

  What had her mother been thinking? Bonnie and Ken’s crowd wasn’t an arty one, not that some of the men and women weren’t proficient carpenters, quilters, seamstresses, and custom boat builders. They might have creative talents, but they weren’t the sort of people to turn their backs on a rousing game of horseshoes to pick up a paintbrush and attempt to capture the beauty and intricacies of nature.

  Nicola realized that she was hungry. A bowl of her aunt’s clam chowder would really hit the spot. But then, her mother was coming her way, her stride purposeful. Unsurprisingly, Carol Ascher was the best-dressed woman at the party, though she was exposing less skin than the majority of women who were in tank tops, T-shirts, shorts, or low-cut sundresses. Now that Nicola thought of it, she couldn’t recall her mother ever wearing revealing clothing. There was a restraint and discipline about her that held through every aspect of her life.

  “Are you having a good time?” her mother asked when she had joined Nicola.

  “The party is a success,” Nicola said carefully. “But this is difficult for Aunt Bonnie. The first annual Fourth of July party without Uncle Ken as her cohost.”

  “I know. Several people have pointed that out to me. She seems to be holding up well enough.”

  “Aunt Bonnie wouldn’t allow herself to fall apart in public. Besides, these are people she’s known all of her life. She feels comfortable with them. They’ve stuck by her and she’s stuck by them.”

  “Unlike me,” her mother said in a weary tone.

  “Sorry,” Nicola mumbled. There really was no need to keep nagging at her mother about the distance she had put between herself and her family all those years ago. It was a fact. They all knew it. And honestly, hadn’t Nicola herself contributed to the dynamic of estrangement?

  “I’m going to get something to eat,” Nicola said. “Can I bring you anything?”

  “No, thank you,” her mother replied.

  Nicola moved off but couldn’t resist one quick glance over her shoulder. What she saw surprised her. Carol Ascher was making her way toward the wooden bench where Julie was sitting on her own. If Carol thought she could get anything more out of her niece than a grunt or grumble, well then good luck to her. Nicola continued on her way to the food tables.

  Chapter 76

  Even though she had known pretty much everyone at the party since she was born, and knew them to be good, solid people who cared about their neighbors, Julie still felt so terribly obvious. How much of that was down to paranoia and how much was just an acceptance of small-town reality, Julie didn’t know.

  Scott had left her almost the moment they had arrived at the party. She had told him to go. He was now talking with three men Julie recognized from town, though she wasn’t sure of their names. She watched as Scott laughed at something the tallest of the men had said. Had he found the man’s words genuinely funny? Or was he just keeping up appearances for the sake of the family?

  Julie scanned the yard for Sophie and spotted her leaning against a porch post; she was stripping a flower of its petals. Sophie looked supremely bored, probably because there were only a few other teens at the party. One couple had brought their fourteen-year-old grandson who was paying them a visit from California. He had been taken up by the horseshoe set and seemed to be having the time of his life. Patricia Doolan was there with her mother, but Sophie had never gotten along with Patricia, who was a dedicated athlete with no time to spare for girls whose idea of exercise was waving their wet fingernails in the air until they were dry. There was one other teenaged girl at the party, someone Julie didn’t recognize, and she was glued to the side of a guy who looked to be in his early twenties. It took her a moment to realize that the young man was one of her former students. Could she, Julie Miller, really be that old?

  Julie frowned and turned away. She wandered over to the food table. No one stopped to speak to her. She had already eaten three hot dogs and wasn’t really hungry, but the iced cupcakes caught her attention. One of the Wolf Lane neighbors had brought them; Tara never skimped on the icing. Julie reached for one and retreated to a rather rickety wooden bench that was in the shade of a large old oak. She took a bite of the cupcake and wondered how soon she could leave without causing her mother concern. Scott and Sophie wouldn’t notice she was gone, but her mother, a good hostess, would be noting the comings and goings of each of her guests.

  She had just swallowed the last of the cupcake when she realized that her aunt was coming toward her. The temperature was well into the eighties, but Carol looked as fresh as the proverbial daisy. Julie was very aware that there were probably sweat marks under her own arms.

  Carol smiled when she reached Julie. “You seem to have found a nice, shady spot,” she said.

  Julie wondered if there was criticism in the comment. There was the paranoia again. “It’s so hot in the sun,” she said. What a stupid thing to say. Of course, it was hot in the sun!

  Carol, however, didn’t laugh or roll her eyes. “Thank God for baby powder,” she said. “I use so much of it in the hot weather.”

  There was silence for a moment or two; it was not really an uncomfortable silence.

  “I’m sorry no one seems interested in painting,” Julie said suddenly. She wasn’t sure why she was offering her sympathy to the woman her mother considered an enemy and a usurper. But the words had just come out.

  “Yes, well, their loss,” Carol said lightly.

  “Maybe if there were more children,” Julie went on.

  Carol turned to Julie and smiled. “I’ll try to better gauge the guest list next time.”

  Silence fell again. Julie couldn’t think of anything else to say and was beginning to feel uncomfortable when Carol spoke.

  “I hope you don’t mind my making this offer,” she began, “but my apartment in Manhattan is sitting empty at the moment—I haven’t yet put it on the market—so if you feel the need for a little getaway, I’d be happy for you to stay there. You could bring a friend if you like.”

  Julie was forcibly struck by the kindness of her aunt’s offer. For a moment, she felt it difficult to breathe. “Thanks,” she finally said. It was an inadequate reply but all she could manage.

  “Just let me know,” Carol said. Then she walked off in the direction of the other guests.

  Julie was grateful for her aunt’s having sought her out and if Carol’s offer had been genuine, and Julie felt that it had been, it was evidence that maybe Carol Ascher wasn’t the entirely self-centered person Bonnie Ascher had made her out to be.

  Suddenly, Julie realized that nobody was looking in her direction; at least, she thought the coast was clear, so she got up from the bench and hurried toward the side of the road, where Scott had parked his car. She had a copy of his keys with her. Scott and Sophie could get a ride home from one of the other guests.

  Chapter 77

  Bonnie was bone
tired but sleep just would not come. She had turned the light on. Then she had turned it off again. Then she had propped herself in a sitting position. Then she had stretched out prone again.

  By all accounts the party had been a success, but Bonnie felt dispirited. In spite of her earlier mean and critical thoughts, she took no pleasure in the unpopularity of her sister’s party efforts. But if Carol had been disappointed, she had not let on. Gamely, she had made good on her promise to help clean up after the guests had gone. She had folded chairs and dumped dirty paper plates into garbage bags; she had gathered cans and bottles for the recycling bin and chased stray napkins as they skittered across the grass in a stiff evening breeze. With Judith’s help, she had hauled the easels and other equipment to the back deck from where they would be picked up the following morning. She had paid the bartender and brought endless bottles of locally made gin back into the house to be stored in what had been Ronald Ascher’s rarely used liquor cabinet in the den.

  Bonnie had been surprised at her sister’s industrious behavior but had made no comment. She had offered no thanks. She should have.

  Bonnie turned onto her right side and stared blindly into the dark. She had seen her sister talking to Julie for some time. But before she could ask her daughter what they had spoken about, Julie was gone. Scott had become worried. Bonnie advised that he check to see if their car was still parked where he had left it. It was not. Later, Scott and his daughter got a ride home with a neighbor.

  Sophie had acted poorly from the moment she arrived with her parents. It was no secret that she had wanted to go to a party given by one of the older counselors from camp, but that was no excuse for her to spend the afternoon moping around, rolling her eyes, and merely nodding when a neighbor said hello.

  In fact, from what Bonnie had been able to tell, Judith was the only one of the family who seemed to have truly enjoyed herself.