Evvie at Sixteen (11 page)

“Nicky votes for whatever candidate's going to help him out,” Evvie said. “Megs votes on instinct. At least they vote.”

“Do me a favor and if my grandparents ask, lie,” Sam said. “Let me rephrase that. When my grandparents ask, and they will, just say you're not allowed to discuss politics with strangers. I like that. It has an air of mystery.”

“It has an air of truth, too,” Evvie said. “We're not the kind of family that talks about politics with strangers.”

“My grandparents would never understand that,” Sam declared. “Oh, well. Maybe they'll be so taken aback by your Protestant good looks, they won't even think to bring up politics.”

“Sam, you've terrified me,” Evvie said, but Sam didn't seem to care. He parked the van in its customary spot, and waited as Evvie climbed out.

“We'll use the back door,” he said. “Surprise attack.” He and Evvie walked hand in hand around to the back of the building.

“You gave me a start,” an old woman said when they entered. “Sam, is this any way to bring your friends over?”

“I don't know,” Sam said. “Evvie is the first friend I've ever brought over. What's the etiquette?”

“You start with an introduction,” the woman said.

“Right,” Sam said. “Belle, this is Evvie Sebastian. Evvie, this is Belle Steinmetz. My grandmother.”

“Hello,” Belle said, and she extended her hand. Evvie shook it. “So you're the girl Sam's been moping over all week.”

“Moping?” Evvie said.

“Moping, rejoicing, same thing,” Belle said. “Love. It's a summertime affliction.”

“I see,” Evvie said. “Does Sam suffer from it every summer?”

Belle looked at her grandson and smiled. “The girls fall in love with him,” she said. “You'd be surprised how it helps our summer sales.”

“You're embarrassing me,” Sam said.

“Good,” Belle said. “Serves you right for startling me. Sam tells me you're Miss Winslow's grandniece.”

“That's right,” Evvie said.

“And how's her foot?”

“Improving,” Evvie said.

“She took the kitten,” Sam said. “I think she was pleased to have it.”

“Fine,” Belle said. “Better her than me. Evvie, I'm sorry I don't have any lunch to offer you, but we're behind right now.”

“That's all right,” Evvie said. “Sam said he'd take me out for pizza.”

“Pizza!” his grandmother said. “A girl like this, you don't woo with pizza. You expect better, don't you, Evvie? You were brought up with better.”

“I was brought up not to expect anything,” Evvie said. “And to be pleased with whatever came my way.”

Belle ignored her. “Lou is in front,” she said to Sam. “Go out there and say hello. And don't slip up on him like you did me. His heart can't take it.”

“Fair enough,” Sam said. “Come on, Evvie. Let's make lots of noise.”

“I'm not sure I know how,” Evvie replied, but she stomped down as loudly as she could in sneakers as she and Sam walked to the front of the shop.

“Lou, this is Evvie,” Sam said to the frail-looking man behind the counter. “Evvie, my grandfather, Lou.”

“Hello, Mr. Steinmetz,” Evvie said.

“Evvie what?” Lou asked.

“Sebastian,” Sam said.

“Sebastian,” Lou said. “What kind of name is that? Spanish?”

“I don't know,” Evvie said. “My father doesn't talk much about his family.”

“Why not?” Lou asked. “What's he ashamed of?”

“Nothing that I know of,” Evvie replied. “Maybe he's too ashamed to tell me.”

“Evvie's mother is Grace Winslow's niece,” Sam said. “Presumably that's what she's ashamed of.”

“Grace Winslow is one of our best customers,” Lou said. “You wanna talk nasty, talk nasty about someone who doesn't pay his bills.”

“Right,” Sam said. “Evvie and I are on our way out for lunch, but I wanted her to meet you and Belle. And now she has. So good-bye.”

“Wait a second,” Lou said, grabbing hold of Sam's arm. “This is not a meeting. This is a passing through a building. A meeting you sit down, you schmooze a little, you find out about the other person. What do I know about this girl, this Evvie? How old is she?”

“Sixteen,” Evvie said. Lou looked fragile, but he obviously had a healthy grip on his grandson.

“And does she go to school?”

“High school,” Evvie said, hoping Lou wouldn't ask which one. She no longer remembered the name she'd made up. “Going into my junior year.”

“Both parents alive? Still married?”

“Yes to both,” Evvie said.

“All her own teeth?” Lou asked.

“Lou!” Sam said sharply and broke away.

“Teeth are important,” Lou said. “Young people always underestimate the value of teeth. Gums, too.”

“I've had checkups twice a year all my life,” Evvie said. “And I've never needed braces.”

“Hear that, Lou,” Sam said. “Even I had braces. Now can we go?”

“Sure,” Lou said. “I feel like I know this girl now. She has nice manners, good teeth. Too young to vote, I suppose.”

“Much too young,” Sam said. “Come on, Evvie.”

“It's been a pleasure hearing about teeth,” Evvie said to Lou.

“It's been a pleasure talking about them,” he replied. “Come back sometime, Evvie, and we'll talk sinuses.”

“I look forward to it,” Evvie said, laughing as Sam pushed her out of the shop.

“We're in no hurry,” Sam said, once they were outside. “Let's walk to the pizza place.”

“Okay,” Evvie said. “I'm not sure, but I think I might like your grandparents someday.”

“You saw them at their best,” Sam informed her. “Belle was positively vivacious.”

“Are your other grandparents like that?” Evvie asked.

Sam shook his head. “They're more like normal people,” he replied. “Or at least as normal as they can be under the circumstances.”

“And you've really never brought a friend over?” Evvie asked.

“I don't have friends at Eastgate,” Sam said. “The summer people figure I'm a year-rounder, so they leave me alone. And the year-rounders know I'm not one of them or a summer person, either. They really avoid me. I get a lot of reading done in the summer.”

“What about all the girls who fall in love with you?” Evvie asked.

“A figment of Belle's imagination,” Sam said.

“I'll bet,” Evvie said.

“Last summer a couple of girls had crushes on me,” Sam admitted. “Thirteen-year-olds. I was a man of mystery to them. They followed me around and left me anonymous notes. Whenever I walked within a hundred feet of them, they giggled and blushed and whispered frantic secrets to each other. Neither one of them bought a single book all summer long.”

“Where are they this summer?” Evvie asked.

“In love with fourteen-year-old boys,” Sam said. “Which leaves me free for you.”

“What about wintertime romances?” Evvie asked. “How're things on Long Island?”

“Different,” Sam said. “I date there. No one girl, though. How about you? Are you in love with some hometown hero?”

“I don't have a hometown,” Evvie said. “We just moved.”

“Did you leave someone behind, then?” Sam asked.

Evvie shook her head. “Nobody I couldn't forget,” she said.

“Are you going to forget me?” Sam asked. “When the hot summer nights are over?”

“Ask me next winter,” Evvie said. “Oh, Sam, let's go into that antique store.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Because it has great stuff in the window,” Evvie replied. “Look at that beautiful fan.”

“You're the one who doesn't want to spend your money,” Sam said.

“I'm not going to buy anything,” Evvie said, and dragged Sam through the door. The antique store was wonderful, full of musty smells and promise. “My mother would love this shop,” she said.

“She probably does,” Sam said. “This store's been here forever. Your mother probably shopped here when she spent her summers in Eastgate.”

“Look at this doll,” Evvie said. “Isn't it beautiful? It looks just like a doll my sister Claire used to have.”

“I hope Claire's doll had eyes,” Sam said.

“And this piece of lace,” Evvie said. “If Megs had a piece of lace like that, she'd know just what to do with it.”

“I have a few suggestions myself,” Sam said.

“May I help you?” the storeowner asked. “Oh, hi, Sam. How's your grandfather?”

“Doing better, Marge,” Sam said. “He's behind the counter today.”

“That's good,” Marge said. “Can I help your friend?”

“I don't think so,” Evvie answered. “I was just looking. You have some great things here.”

“I think so,” Marge said.

“This is Evvie Sebastian,” Sam said. “Grace Winslow's grandniece.”

“Sebastian?” Marge said. “Margaret Winslow's daughter?”

Evvie nodded.

“I knew your mother years ago,” Marge declared. “We didn't socialize, of course. But my parents owned the shop when Margaret summered here, and she would come in sometimes. I always envied her, she was so pretty.”

Evvie smiled. “She still is,” she said.

“You look a lot like her,” Marge said. “My name is Marge Dunlap. Your mother isn't likely to remember me, but she might remember the shop.”

“Did you know my father?” Evvie asked.

“Nick Sebastian?” Marge said. “You don't forget someone like Nick. That summer, when he first came to Eastgate, there wasn't a girl in town who didn't fall head over heels. I remember writing my name next to his. Marge Sebastian. How is he? Still great-looking, I imagine.”

“I have a picture,” Evvie said. “If you'd care to see.”

“I'd love to,” Marge said, so Evvie took out the snapshot she'd shown her aunt earlier.

“My mother's squinting,” Evvie said. “But there we all are. The other girls are my sisters.”

“I'd heard Margaret had a big family,” Marge said. “Four daughters. You're all lovely.”

“Thank you,” Evvie said, glad Sybil wasn't being compared to a potato.

“The day I heard your parents had eloped, well, I up and cheered,” Marge declared. “Of course, I was already engaged to Bill by then, no more Marge Sebastians scribbled on napkins. But I was so happy for your mother. It was an act of real courage for her, defying her aunt that way. But we could all tell she was crazy wild in love with Nick, and he with her, and they belonged together. Sort of like Heathcliff and Catherine.”

“They're still like that,” Evvie said. “Even with four daughters.”

“That's wonderful,” Marge said. “I'll have to tell Helen. That's my best friend. We always wondered what became of them. Miss Winslow isn't one for family gossip.”

“Marge Dunlap,” Evvie said. “I'll be sure to give your regards to my parents.”

“You do that,” Marge said. “And if they come to town this summer, tell them to look in.”

“I will,” Evvie said. She smiled good-bye and followed Sam out of the shop.

“Heathcliff and Catherine?” he said as soon as they had walked a few feet from the store.

“You have to know them,” Evvie said. “They're very cinematic.”

“Your whole family is,” Sam said. “Although I don't think Grace Winslow would make it as Auntie Em.”

Evvie grinned. “More like the Wicked Witch of the West,” she said.

“How about we make a little cinematic history of our own on the beach?” Sam asked. “Without benefit of a camera.”

“Forget it,” Evvie said. “Let's forget cinematic history and family history just for the afternoon. Let's eat pizza and build some low-cost sand castles instead.”

C
HAPTER
N
INE

Evvie peeked in on Aunt Grace late that Sunday morning. Grace was sitting in her wheelchair, her cast propped up on a footstool. Trouble was arduously attempting to climb the cast. He'd get his top claws in, slip, pull himself together, and try again. Aunt Grace was conspicuously pretending to ignore him.

“I'm on my way to Clark's,” Evvie said. “For brunch.”

“Brunches didn't exist when I was a girl,” Aunt Grace replied. “We went to church and had Sunday dinners.”

“Times change,” Evvie declared, figuring that was the most diplomatic way she could phrase it. “I'll be back by two. That's when my family's supposed to call.”

“So you've mentioned,” Grace said. “Very well. Enjoy this brunch business.”

“I'll try,” Evvie said, and scurried out. Trouble tried to follow her, but he tripped getting off the cast, landed on his belly, and became distracted by his tail. Evvie left him chasing after it with ever increasing speed, while Aunt Grace sat in her chair, looking out the window.

It was another perfect summer day, and Evvie decided that after her phone call she'd see if she could go out for a swim. She'd hardly had any chance to swim since arriving in Eastgate. What free time she'd had mostly had been spent with either Sam or Schyler. Not that she was complaining.

“Evvie, come on in,” Clark said, opening the door wide. “Boys, Evvie's here.”

“Hi, Evvie,” Schyler said. Scotty waved hello from the front parlor.

“Brunch with bachelors is an informal affair,” Clark declared. “Mrs. O'Hara has Sundays off in the summer, so we three boys have been doing the cooking ourselves.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Evvie said.

“Now don't tease,” Clark said. “I've been taking cooking courses, you know. Not perhaps in brunches, but I can now do some extraordinary things with a wok. And my puff pastry is the envy of all who know me.”