Summer Beach Reads 5-Book Bundle: Beachcombers, Heat Wave, Moon Shell Beach, Summer House, Summer Breeze (154 page)

At the same time, he said, “You’re tired. Let me take you home with me, rub your back, and make you feel all better.”

She did.

Tuesday morning, Helen drove in the newly repaired Jeep to retrieve her son and his family from the hospital. She couldn’t keep from smiling as she carried duffel bags and two vases of flowers behind the little procession making its way out of the maternity wing and down to the first floor and outside. Teddy and Suzette carefully tucked Dawn into the required car seat. They filled the back with the new paraphernalia that had seemed to blossom into Teddy and Suzette’s life overnight—plastic bags of gifts from the hospital, duffel bags of clothing and flowers from family and friends, and a diaper bag full of necessities for Dawn.

Suzette and Teddy talked nonstop during the drive home, regaling Helen with information: Dawn was a champion nurser, a greedy little girl who had learned how to latch on to the nipple immediately. And she’d slept four hours straight! And the hospital had given them many new baby gifts, but Suzette didn’t intend to use formula ever, so should they take it to the church food pantry?

Helen smiled and smiled, loving it all, and found herself wishing that Worth were with them, sharing the day with her.

But of course, this moment would not bring Worth joy.

When she turned into the drive, she saw Charlotte kneeling among the annuals, cutting flowers, and stopped the Jeep in the lane. “Come see!”

Charlotte ran down between rows of tomatoes, unlatched the gate, and hurried over. She peeked in the window at the sleeping infant, tucked in a pink blanket and strapped safely into a car seat.

“Oh,
sweet
,” she gushed.

“I hate that she has to be in a car seat,” Suzette said. “It’s state law, but look, she’s so tiny, her little head bobbles over.”

“We’ll have her back in your arms in less than a minute,” Helen said, and drove off to the house.

It took almost an hour for Teddy to get Suzette and the baby settled in the living room. Then, while they napped, Helen drove Teddy into town, to return to work at the antiques store. She drove back to Nona’s house—some days were like this; Helen had often joked that she should buy a chauffeur’s cap—and all the driving provided her plenty of time for thinking. Too much thinking, too much imagining. Finally, she turned on the radio and let music relieve her overactive mind.

Back home, she stopped in the lane and called out to Charlotte. “You look hot. Did you have lunch?”

Charlotte stretched and rubbed one aching shoulder. “I forgot,” she admitted.

“Jump in,” Helen told her. “You can rest awhile and I’ll make you a sandwich.”

They returned to the house. Helen followed her daughter in through the mudroom. “Suzette’s in the living room with Dawn. Go sit down. I’ll bring lunch in.”

The kitchen was empty, and in the humid heat of the early afternoon Helen knew several of the family were taking their after-lunch naps—baby Zoe and little Christian, Mandy and Mellie, and Nona, too. Glorious was in her room, probably watching one of her soap operas. Helen moved quietly as she prepared the sandwiches.

Charlotte padded in barefoot, poured drinks, set them on a tray, and headed off to the living room. Helen followed with the sandwiches. Suzette was stretched on her side on a sofa, little Dawn nestled in her arms.

“She’s awake,” she told Charlotte. “Would you like to hold her?”

“Oh, yes, please.” Carefully Charlotte lifted the baby and snuggled her close. She sat down on a chair close to Suzette. “Can I look at her toes?”

“Sure.”

Charlotte gently lifted the light blanket away from the infant’s body. She touched the end of each perfect toe and stroked the curled fingers. “I don’t think she’s as yellow as she was.”

“She was jaundiced. Lots of newborns are.” Suzette spoke with a newfound authority. “But it’s fading.”

Helen said, “Charlotte, chicken salad sandwich for you. And lemonade. And Suzette, the same for you. I didn’t know if you were hungry—”

Suzette laughed. “I’m always hungry.”

Helen arranged the food within easy reach, added another pillow behind Suzette’s back, and settled into a chair.

“Look, Mom.” Charlotte held the baby toward her mother. “She’s gotten as pink as a new Dawn rose. Isn’t her name perfect?”

Eagerly Helen reached out. “Let me hold her while you eat.”

As she looked down into the infant’s eyes, she was overcome with a sense of quiet joy and profound gratitude. A new child was the world’s greatest mystery and, Helen thought, the world’s greatest hope.

Worth did not phone her that night.

Or the next night.

Or the next.

Helen was determined not to phone him. Because she couldn’t spend every waking moment gazing at Dawn, she forced herself out of the house. She played tennis and sailed, went out for dinner and
drinks with friends, saw a couple of plays, and early in the morning she went for long walks on the beach.

Glorious told them all that Nona had a slight cold, not anything to be worried about but something to be watched. Nona needed to rest. Helen was glad that Nona had the cold, or was pretending to have it, because it would not be fair for Helen and Nona to discuss things without Worth present. It would seem as if they were ganging up on him. Helen appreciated Nona’s diplomacy and tried to adapt her own behavior accordingly. She checked in with Nona once a day, kept her conversation light, and focused on general matters: her tennis game, her plans for the day, her committees.

But every moment, truly, Helen was waiting for Worth’s call. She knew him well enough to predict that he wouldn’t phone her right away. He needed time alone to think, to retreat like a wounded animal into his lair to lick his wounds. He had a lot to deal with, Helen had to admit that. Not only Nona’s enormous news but the complicated existence of Teddy’s child. And, of course, Helen’s ultimatum.

She hoped he took her seriously. It had not been a ruse on her part, not a game. When she assured Worth she would leave him if he did not accept Suzette’s baby, she had been absolutely serious.

She had already envisioned how it might play out. She had considered who she would choose for a divorce lawyer, where she would set up her own new single home—in Boston, on Commonwealth Avenue, near the Public Gardens—and how she would keep herself from grieving—by taking a job at one of the many art galleries in the Back Bay and by seeing her granddaughter as often as possible. She went as far as to decide that she would buy a house in a leafy suburb for Teddy, Suzette, and the baby. Teddy would find work in an antiques store, and Helen could babysit; the city would be better for Teddy in the winter than the island, which could be a trial, with its fog, cold, isolation, and lack of cultural activities.

And she would travel! Instead of being tied for three months to the island, the family rituals, and tennis and sailing, which were all lovely, but still … she would be free to spend a few summer weeks in France, England, or Italy.

And Joe Abernathy Well. Perhaps nothing would come of his attentions,
but all she wanted really was a light flirtation, someone to play with. Even a few dates with him would serve to prevent her from being labeled “Poor Helen,” deserted by her husband for a younger woman—for she did not fool herself. If she and Worth divorced, Worth would not be alone for a minute.

The thought made her heart ache. At night she wept into her pillow like an adolescent girl losing her first true love.

On his sixth evening away from Nantucket, Worth phoned.

“Can you talk?” he asked.

“I can. Just a moment. Let me shut the door.” She was on the sleeping porch, getting ready for bed. It was after eleven.

“I called earlier. You didn’t pick up.”

She started to tell him that she’d been at a play But she didn’t want to give him even that much. “I’m here now.”

A deep sigh. Then, “Helen. God, what a summer this is.”

“Yes.”

“I’m having trouble dealing with it all. Teddy claiming a baby that isn’t his—”

Helen interrupted. “Or perhaps is his.”

“And Nona—this incredible story Nona told me. That she’s not my mother! My God, Helen, it’s as if I don’t belong to anyone.”

She started to speak, then kept her silence. Perhaps he belonged to Cindy. He needed to figure it out himself.

“Helen, I miss you. I miss the family, the island. I miss Nona.” His voice broke on his mother’s name.

She couldn’t help it; her heart twisted with pity. “She is still your mother, Worth.”

He cleared his throat. “Not really.”

Helen thought carefully about her next words. “What if Charlotte’s infertile, Worth?”

“What? What kind of question is that? Why would you even think such a thing?”

“I’m thinking all sorts of things these days. My mind is ranging
pretty free. I want to be open to all possibilities. And one possibility is that Charlotte might not be able to have children.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Worth, infertility is a serious problem these days. I’m not saying Charlotte is going to be infertile, I’m saying only that it’s a possibility. Or perhaps she’ll never marry. I mean, she’s thirty and not serious about a man, no potential fiancé in sight—”

“She’s dating Bill Cooper.”

Helen laughed dryly. “Get real. You know Coop’s reputation. He doesn’t get serious with anyone. And while we’re on the subject, I’m seeing Whit with Fiona O’Conner everywhere. So that little dream of ours about Whit and Charlotte is going to have to fade away, I’m afraid. To return to my point: what if, for any possible number of reasons, Charlotte doesn’t have a child? Oliver isn’t going to, we know that much. Will you wait until Teddy and Suzette have another baby, a pale little blond one, and call that child your heir and still ignore Dawn?” She allowed urgency to color her voice. “Worth, you are living in the past. It’s the future we need to think of. Can’t you separate yourself from this gigantic looming shadow called Family and think of yourself alone? I have, just recently, and I’ve got to tell you, it feels pretty wonderful.”

“Thanks a lot,” Worth muttered.

“Listen to me. Really
listen.
Stop thinking about the all-important
Wheelwright legacy.
Think about yourself. You are sixty years old. How much longer are you going to live? How much longer are you going to be able to have fun, to try new things, to travel, to pay attention to something new? The world is changing, Worth. Has changed. The bank is not just a neighborhood bank anymore, and your position there is not essential.”

“Oh, come
on!
”

“It’s
not.
You know it’s not. And whatever your father and grandfather did when they ran the bank, it’s not something you’re able to do now. I’m not even sure it’s something you want to do. Are you? Are you sure? Stop a minute, Worth. Think about what I’m saying. Do you want to spend the rest of your life putting on your suit and going in to work and dealing with numbers and getting home late?”

“I’m not ready to retire and fill my days playing golf.”

“No, I know that. But that’s not the only option.”

“You’re getting off the subject.”

“The subject is a pretty all-encompassing one.” She was quiet a moment. “You matter all by yourself, Worth. Your life is your own. Your happiness is your own to choose. The bank, the family.… They don’t have to be all that matters.”

“They
aren’t
all that matters!” Worth protested. “But the bank—if I weren’t at the bank—” He sputtered, unable to finish his thought.

“—the bank would continue without you,” Helen finished for him. “Kellogg is doing a good job. And Claus and Dougie.”

After a long silence, Worth said, “I would feel as if Grace had won.”

Helen was surprised that he would admit that much. “Yes, of course you would. But
you
would have won your freedom, Worth. You would have won your own life.”

“Why haven’t you ever talked like this before?”

“Perhaps because I’ve never thought like this before.” Helen was trembling slightly; she was a little bit frightened and a little bit exhilarated. To calm herself, she thought of the face of the new baby girl, fragile and beautiful and entirely vulnerable.

“Somehow we’ve gotten off the subject,” Worth said. “Listen, I’m tired. The bank, and all this; I can’t talk anymore. I’ll call tomorrow.”

Helen’s voice was cool. “Fine.”

“Helen, I don’t want you to think I’m with Cindy. I’ve broken up with her. You need to remember that.”

She thought of Cindy’s reaction when Worth told her it was over, how she must have pressed herself against Worth, weeping, passionately kissing his mouth. She put the phone down so that the sudden tears in her voice would not betray her.

As he’d promised, Worth phoned the next night. “I want to talk about Teddy.”

Helen was in her robe, curled up on the sleeping porch. A sweet
breeze rippled through the screens, playing over her skin like running water. “Okay.”

Worth said, “I worry about Teddy.”

“I think we’ll always worry about Teddy. He has a drinking problem. From everything we’ve read and heard, that means he’ll always have a drinking problem. You and I can’t change that. We can’t fix that. Suzette seems to have a steadying influence on him.”