Evvie at Sixteen (10 page)

“The hell you don't,” Sam said.

“Evvie,” Schyler said, walking toward them. “I got my jacket.”

“Great,” Evvie said. “Schyler, I'd like you to meet Sam Steinmetz. His grandparents own this bookstore. Sam, this is Schyler Hughes. He's staying with Clark Bradford this summer.”

“Nice to meet you,” Schyler said, extending his hand. Sam shook it. “Do you live here year-round?” Schyler asked.

“My grandparents do,” Sam replied. “I'm a summer guest, also.”

“Eastgate is swimming with them it seems,” Schyler said. “Well, Evvie, we should find a restaurant. Your aunt expects you back by eight.”

“Eight,” Sam said. “It isn't even six yet. You have plenty of time.”

“I thought Evvie and I might take a walk on the beach after dinner,” Schyler said. “It's a beautiful night for a walk.”

“I'll take your word for it,” Sam said. “I have to work until closing.”

“I'm sure I'll be shopping in your store sometime soon,” Schyler said. “Do you carry chess books?”

“We have a fair selection,” Sam said. “Do you play chess?”

“I'm captain of our team at Mayfield,” Schyler replied. “And you?”

“Co-captain of our team,” Sam said.

“We'll have to play a match sometime,” Schyler said. “Good meeting you, Sam.”

“Likewise,” Sam said. “Have a good dinner. And watch out on the beach. There are some treacherous crabs out there.”

“We'll be careful,” Schyler said. “Come, Evvie.”

Evvie walked with Schyler, trying not to savor the moment too much.

“Sam seems nice enough,” Schyler said. “Do you know him well?”

“We had lunch together on Monday,” Evvie said. “He lives on Long Island during the school year.”

“There are some guys at Mayfield from Long Island,” Schyler said. “But I doubt Sam would know them.”

“Probably not,” Evvie said. “Are we finished talking about Sam?”

“I certainly am,” Schyler said. “Let's talk about you instead. Tell me some more about your family.”

So over dinner, Evvie did. She chose her anecdotes carefully, but that was nothing new. Schyler in turn told her about his parents and Scotty and what life at an all-boys prep school was like. Before Evvie knew it, it was almost seven-thirty and dinner was over and paid for.

“We have time for a short walk,” Schyler told her as they walked toward the car. “I certainly don't want to bring you home late. Not on our first date.”

“Short's better than nothing,” Evvie said. “I've hardly spent any time on the beach since I got here.”

Schyler drove them to a stretch of beach close to Aunt Grace's house. He parked his car, then he and Evvie took their shoes off, and walked slowly in the sand.

“That girl last summer didn't mean anything to me,” Schyler said out of nowhere. “And I certainly didn't get her into trouble. Scotty likes to exaggerate.”

“There's trouble and there's trouble,” Evvie replied. “Not all trouble ends in motherhood.”

“I'll never get you into any sort of trouble,” Schyler said. “I mean that, Evvie.”

“I wasn't worried about it,” Evvie told him.

“For example, I very much want to kiss you,” Schyler said. “Right here, right now, with the ocean as our witness. But I'm not going to.”

Part of Evvie wanted to tell Schyler to go ahead, but another part was just as happy he was being gentlemanly.

“I'll kiss you soon, though,” Schyler said. “If you want to, of course. The ocean will be here all summer.”

“It'll be here even after that,” Evvie said. “I think we're more likely to move than it is.”

Schyler laughed. Evvie ran her toes through the sand.

“Can I ask you something?” he said. “Something serious.”

“I think so,” Evvie said.

“Do you like me?” he asked. “The way I like you?”

“I like you,” Evvie replied. “But I don't know yet just how you like me.”

“Oh the hell with it,” Schyler said, and bending over, kissed her. “Evvie, I'm sorry,” he said when the kiss was over. “I just said I wasn't going to, and I did, and I don't want you to think I was taking advantage of you, but you're the best thing that's happened to me in months.”

“It must be hard going to an all-boys school,” Evvie said, trying to catch her breath. Schyler was a first-rate kisser.

“It's no worse than prison,” he said. “Evvie, have you ever been in love?”

“No,” Evvie said, but suddenly she found herself thinking of Sam. “I don't know.”

“I think I'm going to be in love with you quite soon,” Schyler declared. “By dinnertime tomorrow, maybe, or by breakfast on Sunday. By the end of next week. Certainly by the end of this summer. Is that all right with you, Evvie?”

“Can I give you an answer later?” Evvie asked. She was surprised at how vividly she could picture Sam. “I think now we'd better get me home.”

“Of course,” Schyler said. “I don't mean to rush you, Evvie. I know you hardly know me.”

“It seems to be that sort of summer,” Evvie said. “Come on, Schyler. Let's get our shoes and get me back before curfew.”

They walked hand in hand back to Aunt Grace's house. Evvie liked the way her hand felt in Schyler's. She just wished she could get Sam's face out of her mind.

“I won't try to kiss you good night,” Schyler said. “But I would like to see you tomorrow.”

“Call first,” Evvie said.

“All right,” Schyler said. “Good night, Evvie.”

“Good night,” she said and walked into the house. Everything was quiet, which was exactly how she wanted it. Except that at 8:01 on the dot, the phone rang.

“I'll get it,” Evvie said loudly, and picked up the phone on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Thank God it's you,” Sam said. “I'm not up to Lithuanian right now.”

“Hi, Sam,” Evvie said, kicking her shoes off, and trying to wriggle the sand out from between her toes. “What can I do for you?”

“For starters, you can tell me if I stand a chance,” Sam said. “I don't mind a little competition, but did you have to pit me against Mr. Perfect? Jeez, Evvie. The guy's a cross between Warren Beatty and God.”

“Schyler is good-looking,” Evvie said, looking down at her feet. She decided to paint her toenails bright red.

“I'm good-looking,” Sam said. “Or at least I'm not bad-looking. There are girls who happen to find me very desirable.”

“I don't doubt it,” Evvie said.

“Are you one of them?” Sam asked.

“Desirable, maybe,” Evvie said. “Not very, though.”

“Great,” Sam said. “Does this mean the engagement is off?”

Evvie laughed. “I don't know yet,” she declared.

“Then there is hope,” Sam said. “Great. Tomorrow I'm going to storm the Bastille. I'll meet you at Aunt Grace's at twelve. All right?”

“Yes.” Evvie felt herself smiling as she said, “That sounds just fine to me.”

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

“Good afternoon, Miss Winslow,” Sam said, promptly at noon the next day. “How are you today?”

“How should I be?” Aunt Grace grumbled.

“Bored,” Sam replied. “Impatient. Eager to be up and around.”

“Then that's how I am,” Grace said. “I'd hate to disappoint you.”

“Good,” Sam said. “That's why I brought you a couple of things.” He held up the grocery bag he was carrying. “We got in a new analysis of Marxist economic theory, and I bought it for you myself. I figured it would make the endless hours move just a little faster.”

“Is it any good?” Aunt Grace asked with what appeared to Evvie to be genuine greedy interest.

“I only skimmed it, but he seems to make some valid points,” Sam said. “Not that we would necessarily agree about what a valid point is.”

“Let me see,” Aunt Grace said, and her fingers started inching their way to the bag.

“Not so fast,” Sam said. “This is a barter. I'll give you the book, if you let me take Evvie out for the afternoon.”

“My niece is not up for barter,” Aunt Grace declared.

“Of course she is,” Sam said, flashing a smile. “Everyone is. That's one of the valid points. Either I get to take Evvie out, or I take the book back with me. A fair exchange, I think.”

“Wait a minute,” Evvie said. “I'm worth more than a book on economic thought.” Sam and Grace ignored her.

“Very well,” Grace said. “You have me at an unfair advantage, Sam. I'll remember that the next time we're forced to negotiate.”

“Fine,” Sam said.

“Give me the book,” Aunt Grace demanded.

Sam began to, when the bag containing the book meowed.

“Noisy analysis, isn't it,” Aunt Grace said.

“There is something else, Miss Winslow. I also brought you a kitten,” Sam said. “I was going to leave it here whether you agreed about Evvie or not.”

“A kitten?” Evvie said. “Take it out. I want to see.”

“It's for your aunt,” Sam said, and handed the bag over to Grace. “Mrs. Harris's cat had kittens six weeks ago. My grandparents agreed to take one, but with my grandfather not feeling well, they couldn't keep it. So I decided to give it to you.”

“That's more than generous,” Aunt Grace said. She opened the bag, and a fluffy black-and-white kitten popped its head out. “No pedigree, I imagine.”

“Common stock,” Sam said. “Best kind. Hearty peasant blood. Guaranteed to give a lifetime of pleasure.”

“It'll outlive me, if that's what you mean,” Aunt Grace said. The kitten climbed out of the bag, and instantly made itself comfortable on her right shoulder. Evvie could hear its purr clear across the room.

“It seemed to me a kitten was just what you needed,” Sam said. “Something to entertain you, between Marxist economic thought and murder mysteries. And I can see you have a natural affinity for cats. I've never seen a kitten warm up to a human so fast in my life.”

“I had bacon for breakfast,” Aunt Grace declared. “That is undoubtedly my attraction for this cat. Evvie, move this beast off me.”

“Certainly, Aunt Grace,” Evvie said. She lifted the kitten off her aunt's shoulder, held it for a moment, then put it back on the bed. The kitten purred maniacally, stretched, and climbed back onto Aunt Grace.

“It's love,” Sam said with obvious satisfaction.

“It's trouble,” Aunt Grace replied. “I suppose that's what I'll call it.”

“Then you're going to keep it?” Evvie asked.

“Cats are useful animals,” Aunt Grace said. “They kill rodents. Like myself, they can smell a rat.” She indicated Sam with a nod of her head.

“It takes one to know one,” Sam said.

“In addition, it gives me something to leave Nick in my will,” Aunt Grace declared. “I know how he yearns to be a beneficiary. Now I can leave him Trouble.”

“You're a saint, Aunt Grace,” Evvie said. She gave the kitten a scratch under its chin and was rewarded with a deafening purr. “I guess Sam and I can go now. I'll see you later this afternoon.”

“Take your time,” Aunt Grace said. “I have an afternoon's worth of entertainment.”

Evvie left the room with Sam before Grace had a chance to change her mind. “How did you know she'd like a kitten?” she asked when they got outside.

“She had a cat until two years ago,” Sam replied. “Duchess. If you think Aunt Grace is an aristocrat, you should have seen Duchess. That cat ate better than half the year-rounders.”

“You know her better than I do,” Evvie said. “Lucky Sam.”

“I know her well enough to guess she'd place your value at roughly a volume of Marxist economic analysis,” Sam said. “I think you're worth at least a complete set of Shakespeare, leather-bound, but a lot of what appeals to me would be of no interest to your aunt.”

“You're worth a used paperback to me,” Evvie said. “What are we doing this afternoon?”

“First of all, I'm taking you back to the store so you can meet my grandparents,” Sam replied. “Come on, hop in the van.”

Evvie did.

“My grandmother regrets that she isn't making us lunch, but she's been working hard at the store,” Sam said. “So I figured we'd eat out. How does pizza sound?”

“Adequate,” Evvie said.

“Watch it,” Sam said. “You're about to lose your leather binding.”

“That sounds perverted,” Evvie said. “After pizza, what comes next?”

“I know a private cove on the beach,” Sam said. “Free from peering eyes where we can spend the afternoon making out like crazy.”

“Crazy's the key word there,” Evvie said. “What's your alternative?”

“We could walk hand in hand on the beach and exchange soulful confessions,” Sam suggested.

“Don't take this personally,” Evvie said. “But I'm not interested.”

“How else can I take it?” Sam asked. “All right. You reject sex and soul. What do you want to do?”

“I want to build a sand castle,” Evvie said.

“Oh, of course,” Sam said. “How could I not have known.”

“Well, it's free,” Evvie said. “I've decided to try to make it through the summer without breaking my hundred dollar bill.”

“My suggestions are low cost, too,” Sam said. “I don't charge for my kisses.”

“That's good to know,” Evvie said. “Are your grandparents going to like me?”

“Probably not,” Sam replied. “I don't suppose you're the granddaughter of Jewish labor organizers?”

“Not on my father's or mother's side,” Evvie said.

“Any family history of radicalism?” he asked. “Religion's negotiable, but left-wing politics are required.”