All Our Summers

by Holly Chamberlin

  Her cell phone rang. As if in response to her impatience, it was Terry Brown. He had found something. Could he come to Ferndean right away? Carol said that he could.

  Fifteen minutes later, Terry was handing Carol a large, dusty, and slightly crumbling brown envelope.

  “I didn’t go through it all,” he told her. “Just took enough of a peek to be sure this is what you’re looking for.”

  “I’d like to pay you for your pains,” Carol said, gently setting the old envelope on a side table.

  “Oh, no,” he replied hastily. “This rightly belongs to you and your sister.”

  Carol didn’t press the point. “Why do you think there are no surviving photos of the part of whatever it is that got made?” she asked as she walked him to the door.

  Terry shrugged. “Probably lost along the way, as such things often are. People cleaning out after someone dies don’t always look through the person’s memorabilia, do they? Too much effort. Just chuck it all in the bin.”

  When Terry had gone, Carol went back to look at the envelope he had delivered. Just chuck it all in the bin. Earlier that summer Bonnie had accused her of treating the past with a cavalier attitude.

  That wasn’t quite right. Or maybe it had been, but it wasn’t any longer.

  * * *

  That evening, Carol settled in the den with her ancestor’s papers spread out on the coffee table. Pretty quickly she realized it was a good thing she knew about the Victorian passion for cryptic messages. She herself owned a poesy ring from about 1870, a band set with stones the first letter of which spelled out REGARD. She also knew of what was sometimes called floriography, the practice of assigning to flowers a meaning that would be known to the giver and recognized by the receiver. Countless books had been published detailing such meanings. Even the manner and style of giving a bouquet to someone could hold a message. Given with the right hand. Received with the left. Tied with a pink ribbon or a white. Romance or friendship. Apology or question.

  This knowledge was going to stand her in good stead. Marcus’s papers were not only crammed with not very good sketches, they seemed totally disorganized. Add to that the fact that his handwriting was difficult to read, spidery and badly slanted, and Carol was going to need all of her knowledge and then some.

  After almost an hour of hard work, Carol had been able to identify the following symbols from her ancestor’s notes: a daisy for innocence and purity; a violet for faithfulness; a peony for romance or possibly for prosperity; an orchid for admiration; and a rose for passionate love.

  There was more on another page. A sprig of rosemary, which Carol assumed represented remembrance, as well as being a direct reference to the woman for whom this entire project might have been conceived. An anchor, probably for steadfastness, security, or reliability. A bird—Carol guessed it was meant to be a dove—for peace? A sheep? Carol squinted. No, maybe a lamb, representing purity?

  Carol worked on. An oak tree. That was meant to represent strength. A snake with its tail in its mouth. That was easy enough. The uroboros represented eternity. Queen Victoria and her beloved husband had been drawn to the symbolism of the snake. An arrow meant . . . time? Clasped hands had to mean marriage or friendship.

  There were literally pages of symbols that Marcus supposedly wanted incorporated in his massive project. Though there seemed to be no master plan or final written description of this project, there were notes suggesting the inclusion of an obelisk, a fountain, and a wishing well.

  No doubt about it, Carol thought. What her great-grandfather Marcus Ascher had designed was a folly, a fundamentally useless structure—or, in Marcus’s case, a series of structures—existing primarily for decoration, usually extravagant, and often looking purposely out of place. The term folly held connotations both of madness and of delight.

  Very little of Marcus Ascher’s exuberant vision had seen the light of day, and Carol could hazard a few guesses why. Still, she was greatly touched by what she had found. At the start of the summer she wouldn’t have thought the discovery of her great-grandfather’s project would have meant much of anything to her. But things were different now. She hadn’t intended them to be different, but they were. She had thought she would change Yorktide, or at least her corner of it. But Yorktide had begun to change her.

  Carol realized she was tired. Carefully, she gathered the papers in a large, clean cardboard box and went up to her bedroom. On the way, she decided that she would keep the discovery of Marcus Ascher’s plans a secret, and only reveal them to her sister and the rest of the family once restoration work had begun.

  A token of peace.

  Chapter 87

  It was a humid evening following an even more humid day, but Judith explained that it was even worse inside the house. “Plus,” she said, “there’s a breeze coming up. I’m sure of it. We’re better out here.”

  Nicola, seated at the table with Bonnie and Sophie, always appreciated an invitation to a meal, bad or good weather.

  “Where is Julie tonight?” she asked

  “Mom said she didn’t feel well.” Sophie frowned as she said this.

  “Maybe what she needs is a quiet night at home,” Bonnie suggested.

  “And why isn’t Scott here?” Nicola asked.

  “He told Julie he was working overtime,” Bonnie said.

  Sophie smirked. “Maybe he’s seeing his girlfriend.”

  “She’s not his girlfriend,” her grandmother replied sternly, “and never was. Besides, he promised your mother that the—affair—was over.”

  Before Sophie could reply, Judith came in sight bearing a platter on which sat several cooked lobsters. “Well, look who’s joined the party,” she said as she laid the platter on the table.

  “Dad?” Sophie whirled around in her chair. “Oh. Aunt Carol.”

  “I thought you had other plans,” Bonnie said.

  Carol shrugged and set a bottle of sparkling wine on the table. Nicola thought her mother looked a bit tired. Maybe it was the heat.

  “It was just a movie,” Carol said. “I thought it would be nicer to have dinner with my family.”

  Nicola smiled at her mother. “You can have my seat,” she said. “I’ll grab another one.” She rose and hurried off to the garage, where Judith kept a few folding chairs.

  “The dogs are out and about.” Judith nodded in the direction of the two canines. They were stretched out under a large maple tree. “When they get the scent of the food . . .”

  “That’s okay,” Carol assured her. “I’ll be fine. It’s not as if I’m allergic.”

  “When you told me that you weren’t coming, I only bought four lobsters.”

  Carol waved her hand dismissively. “No worries. I should have called ahead of time.”

  Nicola smiled at her mother. “One of your bad habits. Like just showing up.”

  Carol laughed.

  “You can share my lobster,” Sophie offered.

  “That’s very generous of you, but no. You enjoy it. I will, however, have some of that coleslaw.”

  Judith grinned. “It’s spicy,” she warned.

  Carol put a spoonful on her plate and then a forkful into her mouth. No sooner had she chewed and swallowed did she begin to cough.

  Nicola and the others laughed, but not meanly.

  “I think I’ll stick to the corn on the cob,” Carol said, her voice raspy. “My teeth are still strong. I think. And I’ll have a glass of that wine if you’re pouring.”

  Suddenly, Cocoa and Puff rose from their prone positions and came loping toward the table, where they stopped and sat quietly.

  “They’re well behaved,” Carol noted. “I thought they’d be jumping all over us.”

  “A dog needs a loving but firm parent,” Judith explained.

  So, Nicola thought, did a human child. And in effect, she had had three loving but firm parents. Her mother, her aunt, and her uncle. That wasn’t such a bad thing.

  “Are you enjoying work this summer?”
Carol asked Sophie.

  Sophie suddenly became animated. “Yeah, there’s this one senior counselor, he’s so funny. He plays these awesome pranks on some of the junior counselors. Mostly the guys. One guy even quit after he was pranked, but nobody really liked him, anyway. He was a total nerd.”

  Nicola glanced around the table. Was she the only one who thought the antics of the senior counselor problematic?

  “I hope the administration doesn’t tolerate bullying,” she said.

  “Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Sophie said with a laugh.

  “Do you remember your first summer job here in Yorktide?” Bonnie asked Nicola.

  Nicola smiled. “How could I forget?” She turned to her mother. “I was a server at a clam shack. It was hot and smelly and paid terribly, but I loved every minute of it.”

  “I didn’t know that you worked summers while you were in high school,” her mother said. “I gave you an allowance.”

  Nicola shrugged. “Everyone I knew was getting a job for summer. Why wouldn’t I want to as well?” She turned to Sophie. “I’d never had a job before coming here.”

  “Lucky you,” Sophie mumbled.

  “You were just a child,” Carol pointed out. “And I wanted you to use your vacations to continue your studies in a hands-on way.” Carol looked to Sophie. “That’s why we traveled a lot and why Nicola went to specialty camps, like the Shakespeare drama camp in the Catskills and the camp in the Everglades that focused on wildlife conservation.”

  Sophie frowned dramatically. “All I ever get to do is hang around boring old Yorktide.”

  “With your boring old relatives?” Judith asked, eyebrow raised.

  Sophie colored. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “Just teasing,” Judith assured her.

  Nicola managed to catch her cousin’s eye and gave her a brief but reassuring smile.

  “I remember my first job,” Judith announced. “I was fifteen and it was making deliveries on my bike for the old pharmacy in town. Remember Norton’s All and Sundries?”

  Carol nodded. “I bought my first lipstick there. I think it cost fifty cents, which for an eleven-year-old was a hefty sum.”

  “I remember the penny candy counter,” Bonnie added. “Root beer barrels, peppermint swirls, those chewy mint leaves. No wonder I had so many cavities as a kid.”

  “Didn’t your parents tell you not to eat candy?” Sophie queried.

  “They didn’t know what I was up to,” Bonnie explained. “Parents in those days didn’t watch their children’s every movement the way they do now.”

  “Anyway,” Judith went on, “everything was going fine. I loved being out on my bike for hours every day, all on my own, riding down beautiful country lanes and singing at the top of my lungs.”

  “And then?” Sophie asked. “It sounds like there’s something bad coming.”

  “And then, one super-hot and sticky day, I had to deliver a prescription to someone on the far east side of town and another prescription to someone on the far west side of town. I was soaked with sweat and could feel my neck burning. All I wanted was to deliver the stupid packages and go home.”

  “And?” Nicola prompted.

  “And I got the packages mixed up and took off before anyone realized the mistake I’d made. I got all the way back to Norton’s, ready to pass out, dying for a soda, only to find Mr. Norton in a rage. Both patients had called to complain they’d got the wrong prescription, so I had to go back out in the stifling weather and make it right.”

  “It could have been worse,” Carol noted. “One or both of the patients might not have noticed the mistake and taken the wrong medicine and something dreadful might have happened.”

  “Don’t I know it! One of the scrips was for a heart condition and the other was for a bowel disorder.”

  “Were you fired?” Sophie asked.

  “No,” Judith said. “But I got an earful from Mr. Norton and I deserved it. I never made a delivery mistake again.”

  “What was your first job, Aunt Bonnie?” Nicola asked.

  “Let me see, was it babysitting for one of the neighbors or was it doing light housekeeping for one of Mom’s older friends from church? I think they might have overlapped the summer I was fourteen.”

  “Housekeeping?” Sophie shuddered. “Ugh.”

  “I remember dying to get a job long before I was old enough to be of real use to anyone,” Carol said.

  “Why did you want to work when you could hang out?” Sophie said with a laugh. “I’d never work if I didn’t have to.”

  “I wanted money,” Carol said. “And I was a restless kid. So, when I was twelve, I took it upon myself to go around to the shopkeepers in town and ask if they had any jobs I could do. One let me sweep the sidewalk for a quarter. Most of them just smiled and sent me on my way. It was only when I was fifteen that I was able to get steady work after school and in the summers.”

  “You used to give me money.”

  Nicola turned to her aunt in surprise.

  “What do you mean?” Carol asked.

  “When you got paid,” Bonnie said, “you would always give me a bit of money to do with whatever I wanted. I never told Mom or Dad. I thought they might make you stop. You were so nice to me.” Bonnie laughed a bit. “I can’t believe I just said all that out loud. It must be the wine.”

  Judith picked up the wine bottle and held it out to Bonnie. “Then have more.”

  “That’s what big sisters are for, I guess,” Carol said with what seemed to Nicola an elaborate attempt at a casual tone. Her mother was embarrassed by Bonnie’s having shared the memory. Why?

  “I’m glad you came tonight, Carol,” Judith said. “The more the merrier.”

  “Yes,” Nicola added. “Thanks for joining us, Mom.” Then, she smiled. “I hope you don’t hold the coleslaw against your host.”

  Judith laughed. “Hey, I gave her fair warning!”

  “If I had known you were coming,” Bonnie said, turning to Carol, “I would have brought some of those shortbread cookies you love so much.”

  Carol raised her glass. “Next time.”

  The evening wound down quickly after that. Carol was the first to leave. Nicola initiated a brief hug. It was the first time she and her mother had touched in years. Nicola was pleased that her mother hadn’t pulled away. Had she really thought that she would?

  Sophie and Bonnie left moments after Carol. Nicola stayed to help clean up. As she carried dirty plates and glasses into the house she realized that the evening had felt—normal. A bunch of women, related by blood and affection, if not always by similar interests or beliefs, sharing a meal and conversation on a summer evening.

  In fact, the evening had been so pleasant Nicola had almost forgotten that her mother was intent on taking full ownership of Ferndean House. Even though it had been some time now since Carol had mentioned her plan to either her daughter or her sister.

  “I think I’ll ask Julie to lunch,” Judith said, turning from the sink, where she was rinsing dishes. “Just the two of us.”

  “That’s a nice idea,” Nicola said. “Well, I’m off. Thanks again for the lobsters.”

  It was only when she was parking outside her building on Gilbert Way that she recalled Sophie’s tale about the troublemaking senior counselor. Should she say something to Julie? But maybe Julie and Scott knew about this person. Besides, Nicola thought as she climbed the stairs to her apartment, she was probably just being overly cautious. A worrywart.

  If Sophie wasn’t troubled by this counselor, why should Nicola be?

  Chapter 88

  Julie had accepted her cousin’s invitation to lunch, though she suspected Judith’s real intention was not to have a casual meal and a friendly chat, but to give her a pep talk and then report back to Bonnie. Just because her mother hadn’t spoken to her in a while about “the situation” didn’t mean that she wasn’t concerned.

  Well, of course Bonnie was concerned. She was Julie’s mother. />
  Carol, too, was concerned. But somehow her concern no longer felt oppressive.

  Julie dashed up to the front door of Judith’s house. Rain was falling heavily and in spite of an umbrella, she was wet by the time Judith let her in.

  “Lovely weather we’re having,” Judith said, leading her guest to the dining nook off her kitchen.

  Judith always set a nice table, with cotton napkins, artfully mismatched plates, cups and saucers, and milk in a whimsical pitcher. Today, the vintage pitcher was in the shape of an elephant. The milk poured out of its trunk. A bundle of wild flowers sprouted from a small glass vase.

  “I’m sorry you weren’t able to join us the other night,” Judith said, gesturing for Julie to take a seat.

  Julie flushed. She had not been sick, just feeling incapable of socializing. With Scott needing to work a special shift, she had the opportunity to stay home on her own. “Yes,” she said. “I heard it was nice.”

  “I remembered you like curried chicken salad,” Judith went on, setting a large bowl in the center of the table. “It’s one of my favorites, too.”

  Julie folded her hands on her lap. “I should only have a little bit. I’ve put on a lot of weight lately.” She was immediately aware that she had stated the obvious and opened the door for a conversation she did not want to have.

  But Judith didn’t comment, only heaped chicken salad on her own plate and reached for a piece of baguette.

  “Did my mother ask you to invite me over?” Julie asked. Judith wouldn’t lie.

  “Absolutely not,” Judith said promptly. “I act only for myself, if sometimes in the interests of others.”

  “Sorry. It’s just that—”

  “No need to apologize,” Judith said, lifting the water pitcher and filling Julie’s glass.

  Julie took a bite of the salad. It was delicious. She should ask Judith for the recipe. For whenever her interest in cooking returned.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness,” she said quietly. “Not everyone thinks it’s such a great idea.”

  “Forgiveness is a choice,” Judith said. “It doesn’t just happen over time, much as we might like it to. You have to want to forgive.”