Nell (34 page)

“Oh, Elizabeth,” Nell said. “What a gross, depressing, nasty thing to say.”

“Oh, Nell,” Elizabeth said, staring Nell in the eye. “How is it you can do such a marvelous job of running the boutique and such a ridiculous job of running your life?”

“You can’t help who you fall in love with,” Nell said.

“No, that’s true,” Elizabeth replied. “But you can help who hurts you. You can keep away from fire because your mother told you it’s hot, and you can keep away from Andy Martindale because I’m telling you he’s poison.”

Nell looked at her boss, defeated. She just sat at the table and stared down at the remains of the luncheon, at the white linen, the shining silverware, the rosy daiquiri, still half-full. Nell could not think of any reason that Elizabeth would have to hate her, to want her miserable. But she would rather have it be that her boss despised her enough to tell malicious lies than that she was telling the truth. Nell picked up her daiquiri and downed the rest in one long drink, but even though she was unaccustomed to drinking alcohol at lunch, the cool liquid did absolutely nothing to anesthetize her. It seemed to her that there was no way for her to get up from this moment, from this table, and go forward with her life.

But of course she did get up and move on. She went back to the boutique and worked with Elizabeth for the rest of the afternoon. She drove Elizabeth to the airport at six so that she could catch a plane back to New York.

“Don’t look so glum,” Elizabeth said. “There are plenty of fish in the sea. Go out to more parties, meet more men! And don’t look at me that way. Hating the bearer of bad tidings went out with Cleopatra. You’ll thank me someday for saving you a lot of time and emotional agony.”

“I suppose,” Nell said, though she doubted it.

“Well, dear,” Elizabeth went on, kissing the air near Nell’s cheek. “It was wonderful seeing you again, and you’re doing a fabulous job with the boutique. You are amazing, Nell. Now take care of yourself. Don’t work too hard. Remember, we’re relying on you.” She turned and walked the short distance from the gate to the small waiting plane.

Nell called Andy from the airport to tell him that because of Elizabeth’s visit, she was too exhausted to see him that evening. That was fine, Andy said; there was a two-hour documentary on Charles Lindbergh that he wanted to watch on public television. Goddamn you, Elizabeth was right, Nell wanted to shout, but of course she didn’t. But his satisfied self-sufficiency only seemed to prove Elizabeth’s point. Nell drove home, crying all the way. She managed to be moderately civil to her children, at least to keep from crying in front of them, and they were tired from camp and oblivious of her feelings. After she got them into bed, she took a long hot bath and began crying there.

She had forgotten her theory, it seemed, that some women were naturally lucky in love and some women weren’t. She had forgotten it, or thought somehow she had escaped from the wrong side and managed to sneak on over to the side of those lucky lovable ones. But now she felt she had been exposed for a fool, scrambling around thinking she was safe when all the time she was just still on her own home ground, where she would always remain. Alone.

She waited awhile in the living room, hoping Clary would come home so they could talk, but after a while, she realized that if Clary was coming home it wouldn’t be early. She went to bed.

The next day did not improve matters. Nell went off to work, trying to be optimistic, trying at least not to be suicidal. She looked up in the middle of the day to see Ilona walk in the door. She had a marvelously handsome man at her side.

“Nell!” Ilona cried. “Surprise! Isn’t this fun? Frank and I have come over to spend a few days in the sun, and I said we just had to surprise you. Can we take you out to dinner tonight?”

Ilona had never looked so tall, slim, rich, and stunning in her life. Frank, who was quickly gaining the name “the hunk” in Nell’s private thoughts, gazed at Ilona with adoration in his eyes and couldn’t keep his hands off her sumptuously clad body. After just a few moments in their presence, Nell felt as if she were literally growing shorter, older, dowdier, and lonelier. But she had agreed to join them for dinner; she could tell how Ilona wanted Nell around to be witness to her new happiness.

Nell settled her children in front of the TV that night with a pizza and fruit and milk and changed into a fresh dress and diligently put on her makeup. She had called
Andy to ask if he could join them, and Andy had accepted. This could be a lovely evening, Nell told herself, but she knew it would not be lovely. She felt strange now, because of Elizabeth’s warning. She couldn’t decide whether to mention Elizabeth’s friend Rachel to Andy or not. She felt miserable and awkward, childish. And she was afraid that if she told Andy all that Elizabeth had said, she would be appearing to ask for some kind of commitment from Andy. It would seem that she was trying to cajole or force something from him that he had not yet been ready to give willingly. She did not want to do that. She had known him for only three months, after all. He had told her he loved her. It should not matter to her that he had once loved a woman named Rachel; it should not matter that he was a fucking
island
. But of course it did matter, so much so that when she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw her face set with lines of worry and sadness. Great, Nell, she thought; he’ll really fall in love with you now. You look like some old shrew. She tried to relax the muscles of her face, to smile.

She must have managed to look normal during the course of the evening, because Ilona never nudged her or indicated any concern. And when Nell
saw
Andy, was seated next to him in the car, at the table … her body just overruled her mind and went all sappy with love and pleasure. They went to the Dockside for dinner and sat at a table laid with fresh flowers and candles. Nell breathed in deep drafts of the civilized evening air. She liked the crystal, the careful attentions of the waiters and water boys, the murmur and laughter of other people in the room, the way the light gleamed and deepened outside the windows as clouds passed through the sky and night gently fell. The food was excellent. The wine was delicious. Ilona’s lover, Frank, was a doctor, and he was an amiable and courteous man. He and Andy got on fine. Everyone seemed so clever.

After dinner, Ilona excused herself to go to the ladies’ room and signaled with her eyes that Nell should join her. As they walked down the stairs, Nell wondered just how much to tell Ilona—should she tell her that she loved Andy? She was afraid that if she told her what Elizabeth had said, she’d start to cry.

But Ilona didn’t give her a chance to talk about Andy. Ilona was too enraptured with her own luck and happiness in meeting Frank. It seemed to her only natural that everyone should just fall easily and marvelously in love, and Nell knew she would be a spoilsport to bring in her own doubts to darken Ilona’s bright joy. Ilona babbled as much
of the short and happy history of her relationship with Frank to Nell as she could while they were in the restroom. She was almost divorced, Ilona said: Phillip was being cooperative—he
would
be—she said, frowning for once; he was too damn recessed to care enough to make any kind of trouble. But Phillip didn’t matter anymore, she had met Frank, and he was the most wonderful man in the world, and he loved her, and finally, finally, she had found true love!

Nell said she was glad for Ilona. When they went back upstairs to their table to join the men for coffee and dessert, they found that the men had gotten into a discussion about the Boston Red Sox. Nell and Ilona listened for a while, then leaned together to chat between themselves. Nell studied Ilona as she talked. Ilona was clearly flourishing. She had pulled her long blond hair straight back from her face in a chignon adorned by a green silk ribbon. She was wearing huge earrings made from what looked like emeralds and diamonds and a jade green silk dress, a deceptively plain dress with a wide boat neckline that was always falling off one shoulder or another, easily, innocently exposing a gleam of bare skin. Ilona’s nails were very long, tapered and painted, and she wore an enormous ring that looked like a flower, with each petal made up of pebble-sized opaque green stones.

“Your ring is fabulous,” Nell said. “I’ve never seen one like it. But I don’t recognize the stones. Are they jade?”

“Oh no,” Ilona said, casually studying her ring. “They’re emeralds.”

“
Emeralds
,” Nell breathed. She stared at the ring, quickly calculating that it was worth an amount equal to the mortgage on her house.

“Oh, they’re not
good
emeralds,” Ilona said. “It’s sort of a tacky ring, really. The emeralds aren’t good at all. But it is pretty.”

“Yes,” Nell agreed. “It is.”

“Phillip gave it to me for some anniversary,” Ilona went on. “I guess that was his way of showing affection. Lord knows he doesn’t do it well any other way.”

Nell turned slightly away from Ilona to mess around with her coffee, putting the sugar and milk in, stirring and tasting it. Now Frank surreptitiously slid his hand under the table to rest on Ilona’s knee, and Nell noticed how Ilona and Frank flashed each other private smiles. She has so much, Nell thought: a husband who loves her with emeralds,
great beauty and wealth, and now this handsome doctor who loves her, who
loves
her. Nell felt desolate and jealous. She felt hateful and envious. She looked at Andy and remembered what Elizabeth had told her about Rachel. If only, Nell thought, if only Andy would reach over and put his hand on hers or touch her arm or her knee or even look at her with love.
Please, Andy
, she willed,
if you love me, give me a sign
. She sat like a child, wishing he would make the smallest gesture of love; if he did, she thought all her envy and misery would evaporate. But he talked on with Frank, oblivious to her need. Nell wanted to cry. Stop it, she said to herself. He was not being unkind or rude or slighting her in any way, he was only talking about baseball. He was only
not
touching her the way Frank was touching Ilona.

I hate you, Andy, Nell thought. She stared at her coffee, thinking: Only three and a half more weeks till Labor Day. Four days after that she could go back to Arlington. Away from Nantucket, away from this man who drove her so crazy. She would start seeing other men. She would do all the brave cheering-up things she had learned over the years to do to keep going on. She would paint Jeremy’s room. She would have a dinner party and invite people she hadn’t seen all summer—and she wouldn’t invite goddamn cheerful Ilona and her love-sick doctor. She would get involved with the community theater workshop. She had been wanting to do that for a long time. The problem, of course, was finding the money to pay a babysitter so she could go out in the evenings to rehearsals. But perhaps, if she fiddled with her budget, and if Elizabeth continued to pay her this salary …

She was so immersed in her thoughts that when Andy reached over and put his hand lightly on the back of her neck she jumped and almost screamed.

“Look at her,” Andy was saying to Ilona and Frank. At the same time he lightly, teasingly tousled her hair. “I’ll bet she’s thinking about that shop. Listen, never fall in love with a workaholic.”

Nell looked at Andy. He was grinning at her affectionately.

“You look tired,” he said. “Are you ready to go? We’d better get you to bed.”

Nell felt tears spring to her eyes. She felt like an orphan who had just been given a home, a dog just let in out of the rain. Did you hear that, she wanted to say to Ilona, did you hear what he said—he was talking as if he’s in love with me, admitting it in public!
Before she could sort out her emotions, the moment had passed and the other three were pushing back their chairs, rising, commenting on the delicious meal.

The two couples said goodbye. Nell and Andy walked back to the cottage. Andy was in a good mood and really seemed to have enjoyed meeting Ilona and Frank.

Nell got up the courage to say, “You know, I liked it when you touched my hair like that in the restaurant.”

Andy looked at her. He pulled her to him for a moment and they walked along, side by side, his arm around her. “You did?” he said. “You funny thing. Just wait till we get home, you’ll like the way I’ll touch you there, too.”

And she did. When she came into the bedroom after putting on her black nightgown, he was waiting for her in bed. “You are special to me, you know,” he said to her, and pulled her to him. They held each other and kissed and ran their hands over each other’s bodies. He removed her nightgown with a slow tenderness that made Nell teary-eyed again, “Oh, Andy,” she said over and over. “Oh God, Andy.” And he said, “Nell, I love you.” He made love to her, and she cried out of happiness the whole time, except for a while when lust overtook sweetness; then she got greedy and grabby and wild. After they were sated, and she lay holding him between her arms and legs, feeling his weight all up and down her body, she cried some more, quietly. “Am I too heavy for you?” he asked, and she said, “Oh no,” and would not let him move. She loved holding him like that, feeling such great profound affection for him because he had pleased her so, because she had pleased him so. It seemed to her, as it seemed every time after they made love, that what they had between them was worth everything, meant everything in her life.

Eight

August was a month of splendid days. The sky stayed a calm clear blue, and if the temperature rose to the eighties, one had only to go to the beach or step inside an ice cream parlor or sit at an outside café sipping a Chablis spritzer with ice and lemon to be glad of the heat.

Nell took Elizabeth’s advice and worked less. If the day promised to be particularly nice, she kept the children home from camp and went with them to the beach. Sometimes Clary came along. At Andy’s suggestion, they drove to find new beaches away from the crowded ones. They went to Dionis, with its high dunes, Surfside or Cisco, where the waves came crashing out of the Gulf Stream, Tom Nevers Head, which was too dramatic and dangerous for swimming, where the terns soared screaming out their domain, ’Sconset, which meant a ten-minute drive on a straight road alongside the moors.