Nancy Thayer - Summer House

N ANCY T HAYER is the New York Times bestselling author of Moon Shell Beach, The Hot Flash Club, The Hot Flash Club Strikes Again, Hot Flash Holidays, The Hot Flash Club Chills Out, and Between Husbands and Friends. She lives on Nantucket.

a cognizant original v5 release october 08 2010

C harlotte had already picked the lettuces and set them, along with the bunches of asparagus tied with twine and the mason jars of fresh-faced pansies, out on the table in a shaded spot at the end of the drive. In July, she would have to pay someone to man the farm stand, but in June not so many customers were around, and those who did come by found a table holding a wicker basket with a small whiteboard propped next to the basket. In colored chalk, the prices for the days offerings were listed, and a note: Everything picked fresh today. Please leave the money in the basket. Thanks and blessings from Beach Grass Garden. She hadnt been cheated yet. She knew the customers thought this way of doing business was quaint, harkening back to a simpler time, and they appreciated it. Perhaps it helped them believe the world was still a safe and honest place.

The day was overcast but hoeing was hot work and she had been up since four-thirty. Charlotte collapsed against the trunk of an apple tree, uncapped her water bottle, and took a long delicious drink. Nantucket had the best water on the planet: sweet, pure, and clear. It was shady in this overgrown spot, so she lifted off the floppy straw hat she wore, in addition to a heavy slathering of sunblock, and sighed in appreciation as a light breeze stirred her hair.

She couldnt linger, she had too much to do. She took another long drink of water, listened to her stomach rumble, and considered returning to the house for an early lunch.

When she heard the voices, she almost jumped.

People were talking on Bill Coopers side of the fence, just behind the green tangle of wild grapevines. Hunky Bill Cooper and his gorgeous girlfriend. From the tense rumble of Coops voice and Mirandas shrill whine, they werent happy.

Come on, Mir, dont be that way. Bills tone was placating but rimmed with an edge of exasperation.

What way would that be? A sob caught in Mirandas throat. Truthful?

The moment had definitely passed, Charlotte decided, when she could clear her throat, jump up, and call out a cheerful hello. Vague snuffling sounds informed her that Bills dogs, Rex and Regina, were nearby, nosing through the undergrowth. She thought about the layout of Bills land: along the other side of the fence grew his everlasting raspberry bushes. The berries wouldnt be ripe yet, so Bill and Miranda must be taking the dogs for a walk as they often did. She was glad the berry bushes grew next to the fence, their prickly canes forming a barrier between Bills land and Nonas. A tangle of grasses massed around barberry bushes was wedged against the fence, and then there were the tree trunks. They would pass by any moment now. She would keep very quiet. Otherwise it would be too embarrassing, even though she had a right and a reason to be here.

I never lied to you, Miranda. I told you I wasnt ready for a long-term commitment, especially not when youre in New York all winter.

You could come visit me.

I dont like cities, Bill argued mildly.

Well, thats pathetic. And sleeping with thatthat slutis pathetic. Miranda was striding ahead of Bill. She cried out, Rex, you stupid, stupid dog! You almost tripped me.

Mir, simmer down. Bill sounded irritable, at the end of his patience.

Miranda didnt reply but hurried into the orchard of ancient apple trees. Bill followed, crashing through the brush. Charlotte could hear a few more wordsIm not kidding! Its over, Bill!then she heard the hum of their voices but no words, and then they were gone.

Gosh, Charlotte whispered to herself.

Charlotte had had a crush on Bill Cooper for years. Coop was a hunk, but so easygoing and funny that when you talked with him you could almost forget how handsome he was. She seldom saw him, even though he lived right next door. Of course, right next door was a general term. Nonas property consisted of ten acres with fifty feet of waterfront on Polpis Harbor, and the Coopers land was about the same size. With all the plantings, you couldnt see one house from the other, even in winter when all the leaves had fallen.

Like the Wheelwrights, the Coopers mostly summered on the island, the Wheelwrights coming from Boston, the Coopers from New York. Eons ago, when they were all little kids, Coop had played a lot with Charlottes brother Oliver, even though Oliver was younger, because Coop was an only child, and the two families got together several times over the summer for cocktails or barbecues. Then came the years when they rarely saw each other, everyone off in college and backpacking in summer instead of coming to the island.

Coop lived in California for a while, but three years ago his parents moved to Florida and Coop moved into the island house, telling everyone he wanted to live here permanently. He ran a computer software business from his nineteen-sixties wandering ranch house, mixed his plasma TV and Bose CD player in with his familys summery bamboo and teak furniture, and was content. Mostly he allowed his land to grow wild, except for a small crop of butter-and-sugar corn famous for its sweetness. At the end of the summer, he held a party outdoors, a clambake with fresh corn, cold beer, and icy champagne.