The Family Beach House (24 page)

Sunday, July 29

During the course of the morning Larchmere emptied of many of its inhabitants. Sarah and the children headed back to Massachusetts. (Obviously, Adam had given up more of his visitation rights. He also wasn't there to see them off.) Tilda had told Sarah the night before, at dinner, about Kat having broken the engagement. In fact, aside from updates on Bill's condition (which was fine, though his doctor had suggested he stay the night in the hospital), the conversation over dinner had been mostly about Adam's new status as single. Sarah had not been surprised at the turn of events but she had not stooped to gloat. Mostly, she was concerned as to how Kat's sudden departure might affect her children. They had not been in love with Kat but they had, to some extent, gotten used to her.

Craig, whom Bill had sent back home to get a good night's sleep, had been very quiet at dinner. Tilda and Hannah each thought he looked more reflective and pensive than usual. He had gone to bed immediately after the meal and had left for the hospital first thing that morning to fetch his father.

Not long after Sarah left for home, and Tilda had returned from her walk on the beach, Jon and Jane took off for Portland and their summer jobs.

“You'll call us if something happens to Grandpa, right?” Jane asked her mother from the passenger seat of Jon's car.

“Of course,” she promised. “But I think he'll be fine now.”

“And you'll continue to be nice to Jen, right?”

“Of course!” Tilda felt a twinge of embarrassment. “I learned my lesson, don't worry.”

“Oh, and one more thing, Mom.” That was Jon, leaning over his sister.

“What?”

Jane smiled. “We know about you and your Florida mystery man. I just hope you're being careful—if you know what I mean.”

Tilda blushed furiously as her children laughed and pulled away. She recovered enough of her composure to wave them off, watching until the car was out of sight along Shore Road. She felt the anxiety she always felt watching them go away. She also felt very proud of her children. And so much for secrecy in a small town!

Adam had not shown himself at breakfast time. Tilda thought she heard someone—presumably Adam—come in well after midnight. She hoped her brother would be all right. She did not hate him and she was not enjoying his discomfort as Hannah and Susan and maybe even Ruth and Jennifer seemed to be.

Tilda turned back to the house. Suddenly, she felt incredibly tired and fought the urge to go up to her room and lie down. But she had made plans to see Dennis around eleven so instead she made another cup of coffee, showered, and got dressed.

 

Tilda and Dennis had driven down to York Beach. He had expressed a desire to try an interesting flavor of ice cream at Goldenrod Kisses, maybe the caramel with sea salt. And he wanted to buy a few souvenirs for his grandchildren. Together, they strolled the main street, crowded with tourists. Dennis bought a plushy lobster for two-year-old Leah and a stretchy bracelet made of aqua-colored shells for four-year-old Laura. They were waiting until after lunch to have ice cream.

“Your father is a lucky man,” Dennis said, when they were settled at a table at Inn on the Blues. “I mean, to have a family that loves him like you do.”

Tilda thought about that for a moment. “Well, I don't know about lucky. He earned our love and respect. He was, he is, a good father.”

“That may well be, but not everyone who earns love and respect gets it. There are such things as ungrateful children. And ungrateful spouses, and ungrateful friends.”

Yes,
Tilda thought.
Like Adam is an ungrateful son. Will Jon turn out to be an ungrateful child? Will Jane?
She believed in her children but only time would tell.

They ordered fish and chips and chatted about the McQueen and the Haass families. Dennis revealed that when his wife had left him for the other man, his son refused to talk to her for months. “I found myself advocating for my cheating wife,” he said with a wry smile. “I didn't want my son's relationship with his mother to be permanently compromised.”

“The things we do to keep the peace. That was good of you.”

Dennis shrugged. “Parents put their children before themselves. At least, they should.”

“Forever, do you think?” Tilda asked. “I mean, shouldn't there be a time when it's legitimate for a parent to think of him or her self first?”

They discussed this thorny issue for a while, without coming to any hard and fast agreement on the limits of parental responsibility, then left the restaurant and went around the corner to Goldenrod Kisses. They took their ice cream down to the beach and settled side by side on two large rocks. The tide was low and the sand stretched ahead of them for what seemed like miles.

Dennis ran a finger along Tilda's cheek. “I've been thinking about that kiss,” he said, “in the parking lot.”

Tilda blushed. “Me, too,” she admitted. And she had been, when not worrying about her father.

“Would you like to try it again?”

Tilda nodded. She took off her sunglasses, turned, and moved closer to Dennis. His lips met hers. His kiss was expert. She tasted sea salt and sweetness. It was not unpleasant. But it was not like it had been in the parking lot.

“That was fantastic,” he said, when they had each, gently, pulled away. His voice was husky.

“Mmm,” she replied. It had been nice for her, not fantastic. But she could hardly tell the truth. She put her sunglasses back on, hoping to hide a telltale sign of her real feelings.

They left the beach soon after. Dennis dropped her off at Larchmere. Tilda managed to make the parting kiss a quick peck. She gave him a big smile and if he was disappointed, he didn't let on. She watched as he drove off in his rental car.

Tilda went up to her room. She flopped onto the bed and wondered to what extent the circumstances of their first kiss had colored and heightened the experience. When she had run away from the party she had been feeling hurt and somehow adrift and in need of contact and reassurance. Dennis had been there for her. It was night. No one knew where she was. She had drunk some wine. The right elements for romance had been in place. Did that make the experience of that kiss any less valid? No. Tilda knew she would remember it for a long time.

She got off the bed and went to the bathroom to wash off the sand and sunscreen. Dennis's vacation in Ogunquit was coming to a close. She knew that for her it would be a natural end to their brief but happy romance. She hoped that for him, it would be the same.

 

Susan found Hannah in the library. She was sitting in the middle of the big, brown leather couch. “What are you doing?” Susan asked. She sat down next to Hannah, facing her.

Hannah smiled. “I'm doing absolutely nothing. Do you ever find that all you want to do is nothing? Not read or listen to music or go for a walk or even meditate or think about things. You just want to do nothing.”

Susan raised an eyebrow. “Uh, not really. I don't like doing nothing. I like to keep busy and productive.”

“Oh, busy and productive is good, too. But sometimes I like to just sit and vegetate.”

“Speaking of vegetating…Hannah, I want to talk a bit about the family issue.” Susan's tone was gentle but firm.

Hannah's smile faded. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh. I'm trying to be patient and understanding, Hannah. I really am. But it's been two years now. I'm beginning to feel…concerned.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I believe you are. But the apologies aren't getting us anywhere.”

“I know.”

“I was thinking that maybe we should see a marriage counselor. We don't seem to be making any progress, just the two of us. What do you think?”

Hannah felt raw panic. Marriage counseling meant failure. That was what her mother had said, time and again. It led to separation and that led to divorce. People only went to marriage counseling as a last resort. Were she and Susan really in such a desperate place? And she wondered: Why had her mother talked so negatively about marriage counseling? Had Bill asked her to go and had she refused? Her father had told Hannah that she was nothing like her mother. She needed to believe him. “Okay,” she said, aware that she sounded less than enthusiastic.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she lied. “I'm sure.”

“Okay. I can find someone through my work connections. Or if you'd rather research someone, that's fine, too.”

“No, no. You can choose a therapist for us. I trust you.”

“All right. I think we're doing the right thing, Hannah.”

“Yes.”

Susan wanted to say more but decided not to. She squeezed Hannah's hand, got up, and left the room. Hannah sat in the middle of the big, brown leather couch for a long time. She had never felt so afraid.

 

Tilda found her younger brother repairing the old wooden gate to the herb garden. It was a hot afternoon and his T-shirt was soaked with sweat. She offered to bring him some water but he told her that he was almost done with the job.

“Dad seems good,” she said. “He's resting but only because Jennifer ordered him to. He said something about calling Teddy for a game of golf tomorrow morning.”

Craig stood up and stretched. “I'm glad Dad's doing well. And I'm glad he didn't need CPR the other night. I'm certified but I've never had to perform it on anyone other than the dummy in class.”

Tilda was surprised. “I didn't know you knew CPR.”

“There are a lot of things people don't know about me.”

“Because you never tell them about yourself. You don't let them see the whole you. I'm sorry,” she said. “Maybe that was unfair.”

Craig looked at his sister. “No. It's partly true. Maybe mostly true. I've spent a lot of time hiding. When I wasn't running, that is.”

Craig made an adjustment to the gate and tried the new latch he had installed. “Done,” he said. “Not that a gate keeps out the deer, but at least it looks nice.”

“I'm sorry I underestimate you, Craig.”

Craig looked around at his sister again. “Do you? I kind of thought you were the one person who didn't underestimate me.”

Tilda smiled. “Let's just say there's room for improvement in my attitude.”

“There's room for improvement in everyone's attitude. We're all just human.”

“Too true.” Tilda kissed her brother on the cheek and turned to go.

“Where are you off to now?” Craig asked.

“I've got something I need to tend to. Some old business I let slide. I'll see you later.”

Tilda went around the house and into the woods where the ruins of the old fairy house were barely visible. She knelt on the ground and began to clear away debris. She had decided that she would reconstruct the old fairy house, and that she would maintain it. Maybe she would even build a second house, and a third. She could create an entire village for the fairies.

Because who could truly say that fairies didn't exist? Maybe they could be imagined into existence. People imagined all sorts of things into existence and then sometimes even came to believe that those things had created their creators! Angels and gods, spirits and goblins. And who could say that miracles didn't happen, or that people didn't make miracles happen when the universe seemed not to be listening to their pleas?

Tilda picked up a small, smooth rock. It was gray with a scattering of tiny white lines. She had a vague memory of having found it on the beach, many years ago. She would use it again in this new fairy house. And she would find new materials, too. New materials for a new construction.

Something was beginning to change. Dennis's friendship and that first, important kiss; her father's unexpected romance, and then his illness and recovery; the destruction of Adam's engagement; Craig's periods of obvious sadness or depression, which seemed to portend a crisis; Hannah's struggle with the decision to start a family. Things were in motion. Things had been wrenched up from their places on the ground and tossed into the air and Tilda had no idea where they would all decide to land. She was afraid. She was, she realized, also excited. She went back to work.

Monday, July 30

Bill McQueen and Jennifer Fournier had decided to marry without further delay. Well, they would have to wait until Wednesday—there were some preparations that took a bit of time. And, more importantly for the McQueen family, Bill had decided to reveal the contents of his will. The severity of the anxiety attack had frightened him. Life could be snatched away at any moment. Bill wanted his family to be prepared, and he wanted to be happy for his remaining days on earth. Teddy was summoned and was at Larchmere by late morning.

The family was gathered in the library. Bill sat behind the desk, his hands folded before him, and Teddy was perched on its edge. The others—Tilda, Hannah, Susan, Craig, and Ruth—were seated around the room. Jennifer, too, was there, at Bill's invitation. She stood at his side. Adam, who was standing apart from the others, made no acknowledgment of her, but by this time no one, probably not even Bill, expected him to treat her with anything like respect. Percy, as if another witness to the scene, was sitting upright on the desk, across from where Teddy sat.

Tilda felt dread and anticipation and fear and a little bit of excitement. Hannah clutched Susan's hand. She didn't know it but she was feeling the same crazed mix of emotions her sister was feeling. Craig's face was inscrutable, as it had been at his mother's memorial, but his arms tightly folded across his chest betrayed his discomfort. Only Ruth and Jennifer looked entirely at ease and without expectation.

Teddy began to read. There was a life insurance policy for Ruth, and the grandchildren were given small monetary gifts. Certain particular objects that had been in the McQueen family for generations were bequeathed. Tilda inherited her maternal grandmother's diamond solitaire necklace. Craig got his grandfather's handmade wooden tool chest and all of its interesting contents. Adam got his grandfather's monogrammed silver cuff links. Hannah got her grandmother's gold locket and chain. There was even provision made for Jennifer after Bill's death, something Bill had had added only since their engagement in the hospital. Bill's Mercedes, which was paid for, and his old and expensive complete collection of Shakespeare, were to be passed on to Bobby. There was a monetary donation to Bill's favorite charity. Teddy was given Bill's golf clubs. “But you can't have them until I'm gone,” Bill said. Everyone, except for Adam, chuckled at that.

And then, the most important part of the document was read. When Teddy finished reading, there was a silence that roared in their ears.

Adam, his face purple, broke that silence. “You what?” he shouted at his father. “You're leaving Larchmere to Hannah? You're leaving our family home, our legacy, to a lesbian?”

“Adam!” Tilda cried, horrified, outraged, almost as if the insult had been aimed at her.

But he ignored her. He turned to Hannah, who had risen from her chair and now stood rigid with shock, Susan's arm tightly around her shoulders.

“And your ‘marriage'?” he spat. “Please. It's a total sham, a disgrace. What a joke.”

Percy bared his teeth at Adam and hissed loudly. Craig's hands were in fists by his side and his jaw was clenched. For the first time in over twenty years he wanted to hit someone—and hurt him.

“How dare you say—” Ruth put her hand over her mouth, as if afraid of what words might come out of it. It was an unusual gesture for a woman who was very good at speaking her mind.

Bill rose from his chair behind the desk and Tilda moved forward, scared that her father would have another attack. “How dare you talk to your sister this way!” he said, as if picking up where Ruth had left off. “You should be ashamed, Adam. What would your mother say if she were here to listen to such—to such—to such hateful talk?”

“Mom?” Adam laughed meanly. “Please. She totally agreed with me. She wouldn't have even bothered to show up at that farce of a wedding. She hated the fact that her daughter was gay. And she would have been disgusted that you chose to leave Larchmere to her and not to someone normal,” he said, pointing at his chest with his long forefinger, “not to the oldest son, not to me.”

There was another horrible, heavy silence in the room after this display. Adam looked from one to the other of his family though no one but Bill and Craig met his stare. Teddy was rigid, his eyes lowered to the document he still held in his hands. Jennifer had sunk into Bill's abandoned chair. A low and awful moaning was coming from Percy's chest.

Finally, with a shake of his head meant, Tilda was sure, to exhibit his righteous disgust, Adam stalked to the door of the library. “If this insanity is going to stand,” he said, “I'm out of here.” He slammed the door behind him.

“He's getting very good at dramatic exits,” Craig noted dryly, finally releasing his fists. “Maybe he should have gone into acting instead of finance.”

Nobody laughed.

“I'm so sorry, Hannah.” Bill went to his younger daughter. Susan released her protective hold so that he could give Hannah a powerful hug. “So very sorry.”

Hannah managed a smile. “It's okay, Dad,” she said, her voice gruff with emotion. “Everyone is entitled to his own opinions.”

“Not if they're contemptible,” Craig muttered.

Contemptible. Yes, Hannah thought, that was a good word to describe her older brother's opinion of her. Well, fine. If he found her so distasteful, as the new owner of Larchmere she would simply refuse him access to the property. He would be persona non grata. Adam didn't approve of her? Well, fine, she didn't approve of him.

Hannah took a deep, steadying breath. No. No, she would not ban Adam from his childhood home. There had been enough family dissonance already. Hannah had always tried to be a person who created love and closeness, not hate and distance. Still, it was clear that her relationship with Adam would never be the same. So be it. Life was not all about happy endings. In her opinion, Adam didn't deserve one.

Ruth rubbed her temples as if she had a headache. Her brother's decision to leave Larchmere to Hannah had not surprised her; Adam's grotesque behavior had, in spite of all she knew about him.

Jennifer finally rose and came around the desk to where Bill stood. She put her arm through his, more to steady herself than to assist him.

“Dad,” Hannah said now, “are you sure about this? Are you sure you want to leave Larchmere to me?”

“I have no doubts, Hannah. I never have.”

“But how…It will be hard to…When do you want us to…?” Hannah looked to Susan for help but for once, Susan seemed without words.

Bill's expression grew puzzled, even, Tilda thought, a bit hurt. “What's wrong, Hannah?” he asked. “I thought you would be glad to have Larchmere.”

Hannah clutched her father's hand. “Oh, Dad, I am glad. And I'm grateful, more than you can ever know, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't also overwhelmed. Larchmere is a huge responsibility. It means so much to all of us. I just…I just hope I can be a worthy keeper.”

Susan had regained her voice. “It's just that there are so many things to work out, Bill, details, logistics.” She turned to Teddy. “We'll need some help, some advice.” Teddy nodded.

Craig stepped forward a bit and cleared his throat. “Dad,” he said, “Hannah, listen to me for a minute. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, not just since coming here two weeks ago. And now, with all that's happened, well, I've made a decision. I'd like to stay on in Ogunquit and help Hannah run the house in whatever way she chooses.”

Tilda looked at her father. He seemed stunned. His face was expressionless.

Hannah wanted to laugh and to cry. “You mean, give up your glamorous life on the road? No more nomadic existence? You want to sleep in the same bed every night? Clean toilets and fix leaking pipes?”

Craig smiled. “Toilets, too? Well, if I have to…Seriously, I've been thinking. I'm tired and I'm lonely and I want to make this commitment. It's a commitment to my family but also to myself. Besides, the van is on its last legs. Or tires.”

Tilda felt a twinge of hurt. After all, she had asked Craig to live with her and he had refused! Now he was offering to live with—in whatever capacity—Hannah. But then the twinge was gone. She had come far on this visit to Larchmere. Maybe she even had grown. Craig was doing the right thing for Hannah, just as he had done the right thing for Tilda when he had refused to take responsibility for her life.

Susan wiped tears from her eyes. “Craig, you're a real sweetie,” she said.

“Are you sure you know what you're getting into?” Hannah asked him. “You're making a really big commitment, Craig. Frankly, while I'm grateful for the gesture, I'm not entirely sure I believe it.”

Craig shrugged. “What choice do you have, Hannah Banana? You're just going to have to trust me.”

Hannah turned to Susan, who was still leaking tears. “Well, all right then. We accept your offer. And we thank you.”

Ruth felt a rush of love and admiration for her younger nephew. She had known all along that he could come home and mean it. “Bravo, Craig,” she said. He blushed and Ruth thought he suddenly looked about ten years old.

Bill's eyes were shining now and he shook his son's hand. “I seem to have done you a disservice all these years. This is a wonderful thing you're doing for the family.”

Craig's blush became furious and he turned to Hannah. “Hannah,” he said, “remember that time earlier this week when you asked me where I'd been and I said nowhere? Well, I'd been talking to Guy Cokal—you know, he's got a small accounting firm on Pine Road. He's promised me a job while I study for my CPA. He's going to train me, get me started.”

Susan laughed now. “Mr. Never Had A Job doing people's taxes! There's more than a little irony there, Craig.”

“I've had plenty of jobs,” Craig said, grinning. “I've just never made enough money to pay taxes of my own.”

Bill turned to Jennifer. “He was always so good with numbers,” he said proudly. “Even when he was a little boy.”

Craig smiled at his father. “Maybe now I'll put that talent to some good use.”

“I'm sure you will, son.” That was Teddy, who until then had been standing a bit apart from the others, as if not to intrude upon the family. “And now that everything's all sorted out, I'll take my leave.”

Bill and Teddy shook hands and then the lawyer was gone.

“Well,” Ruth said, “it seems to be a perfect time for big announcements and I've got one of my own.”

Hannah managed a feeble smile. “Oh, boy, I'm not sure I can handle another revelation! I'm feeling a little weak in the knees.”

“Oh, it's nothing traumatic. I've decided to go back to school for a master's in fine arts, just for the hell of it. I've enrolled at New York University. I've got the money and I'm eager to spend it. Can't take it with you and all that. You're welcome to visit me but with classes and papers and all, I might not be such a fantastic host. You'll probably have to take yourselves to the Statue of Liberty.”

“That's great, Ruth,” Tilda said. “But what about Bobby? He hates New York. He refuses to go there ever since that time he went down for—well, he never did say why he went to New York.”

“Oh, I'll be back to Ogunquit whenever I can. This beautiful place by the sea has grown on me. Besides, Percy won't be thrilled with life in a tiny apartment.”

“I think this calls for champagne!” That was Susan. “We'll toast to the future and to a very, very long life for Bill. And for Larchmere!”

The others agreed.

 

It was late, almost eleven o'clock, and though everyone gathered in the sunroom had professed to being beastly tired, no one was inclined to go to bed. Craig occupied a chair to the left of the couch; his legs were draped over one of its arms. On the couch Hannah and Susan sat side by side, both slumped comfortably against the cushions. Tilda, in a chair facing them, had curled her long legs up under her.

“It's been quite a few days, hasn't it?” Craig said, stifling a yawn. “That was meant to be a rhetorical question.”

There were nods and murmurs of assent.

Around her neck Hannah wore her grandmother's gold locket. As soon as she got home she would find a picture of Susan and put it inside.

“Tilda,” she said now, “will you be honest with me about something?”

Tilda, who was wearing her grandmother's diamond solitaire necklace and feeling rather grand, said, “I'll try to be. I mean, I won't lie but if you're going to ask me to break a confidence or—”

“No, no, nothing like that. I just want to know if you're in any way upset that Dad…Well, that Larchmere was left to me.”

“No,” she said promptly, “I'm not upset. Really. I would have been upset if the house was left to Adam. At least now I know Larchmere is in good hands. And that it will always be part of the McQueen legacy.”

“And your home,” Hannah added. “Our home, all of us.”

There was a comfortable silence for a moment and then Craig said, “I'm sorry that some of my worst suspicions about Mom were proven true. If we can believe Adam, and in this case, I think that we can.”

Hannah nodded at Susan, who said, “I know that we can.”

Tilda shook her head. “I'm not sure that I can believe him. What I mean is, I'm not sure I'm able to believe him, yet. What he said about Mom and how she felt about Hannah…It's going to take some time for that to become bearable. So many things I thought I knew have turned out to be wrong or partially wrong…. I feel as if I need to reassess my thoughts about a lot of things.”

“Yes,” Hannah said. “I think I need to reassess some things as well.”

“Where is Adam, anyway?” Craig asked. “Does anyone know?”

“I heard him drive off hours ago,” Tilda said. “I hope he doesn't do something stupid like get drunk and crash his car.”