Beachcombers. Part 25

Jason loomed up. "Hi, Lily. What can I get for you?"

She turned, flushing like a schoolchild copying from a friend's paper. "A martini for Eartha, all gin, and I'll have a white wine, or red if it's easier." She knew she was babbling. She couldn't tell whether or not Jason noticed Bancroft's attentions, but really, that didn't matter. Lots of men flirted with Lily, just like lots of women of all ages flirted with Jason.

"Coming right up." Jason set to work and quickly handed Lily the gla.s.ses.

"Is the martini for Eartha?" Bancroft asked.

Lily nodded. "I'll just take it to her."

"I'll join you in a minute." Bancroft turned to Jason. "Waiter, I'd like a martini just like that one."

Lily's thoughts spun as she squeezed her way through the crowd to Eartha. One of the reasons her boss liked her work was that she knew how to schmooze, to make connections with the wealthy and the slightly famous and infamous. Last year she'd charmed her way into doing a photo essay on a billionaire's waterfront estate. This year--well, imagine who Bancroft Stone knew! Couldn't going out to dinner with Bancroft be considered work? Of course it could! She certainly wasn't going to go to bed with him.

Was she?

37.

Marina Marina and Jim lay entwined in each other's arms, even though this August night was really too hot for such intimacy. They were in the loft of the Playhouse, with a fan playing over them, slowly sweeping back and forth, humming hypnotically. The drift of cool air across her bare skin was just another sensual pleasure for Marina. The world seemed full of sensual pleasures now.

She lay with her cheek on Jim's chest. Idly, she ran her finger through the hair on his belly. When he spoke, she could hear his words rumbling.

"I've got a question, Marina."

"I've got an answer," she replied. She felt him smile.

"You might want to take awhile to think about this," he said. "What I want to ask you is--why don't you move in with me?"

She was glad he couldn't see her expression. She knew she was smiling, probably ear to ear. She cleared her throat before speaking. "For how long? The rest of the summer?"

"Yes. And the fall. And the winter. And the spring." Gently he lifted her away from him, changing positions so they could face each other. "I know it's too early to ask you to marry me. I know you're still raw from your divorce. Perhaps you think this has all gone too fast for us. Perhaps it has. But I trust it, what we've got between us. I want you to be in my life."

Marina couldn't control the tears that suddenly flowed down her cheeks. "I don't know what to say." She sat up, reached over to the bedside table for a tissue, and blew her nose.

Jim sat up, too. He studied her face. "Well, have I terrified you? Freaked you out?"

"No. Oh, no. No, Jim, you've made me happy. But moving in with you--it's a complicated subject. I mean, what about your daughters? It was only a few weeks ago that you were upset when I invited them to dinner with you."

"I know. And I apologize. I was afraid to hurt them. Sometimes I forget that they're grown women, not little girls."

"We're all probably a little child deep inside," Marina said. "Maybe we should wait until they're settled in their own lives before doing something so drastic."

Jim chuckled ruefully. "Believe me, I've thought about that. I don't know if we'll live long enough for all three of my daughters to be settled in their own lives. I mean, Emma came home because she lost her job and her fiance, but I don't know if she wants to stay on the island for the rest of her life. I don't have any idea why Abbie came home or how long she wants to stay. As for Lily ..."

"Lily doesn't like me," Marina said bluntly.

"Lily's always been pretty self-centered," Jim told her. "She acts like a brat around you, but she's a good kid, really. And I'm not about to let her ruin any chance I have of happiness."

"All my things are in Missouri," Marina said. "All my friends are in Missouri."

"Really? Seems to me you've made a few friends here. Sheila Lester, for one. And I think you can count Abbie and Emma as your friends, don't you?" He put his arm around her and nuzzled his mouth against her temple. "Not to mention, I feel pretty friendly toward you."

"What would I do here?" Marina asked, adding, "I'm just thinking aloud, Jim. I mean, I intended for my visit to Nantucket to be a kind of holiday, a time away from real life, when I could think about the future."

"Maybe it could be the beginning of a new life," Jim said. "Maybe it could be the beginning of your future."

"I think I'm overwhelmed," Marina told him honestly. "Let me think about it?"

"Absolutely. Take all the time you need. No deadline. No penalty."

The next evening, Marina fixed dinner again, in the Fox kitchen, preparing enough barbecued chicken for however large a group showed up for dinner. Jim was working hard--August was a prime month for him--and so were his daughters. Marina found she really enjoyed shopping for groceries, making not just a meal, but a delicious meal, a treat for everyone after a long hot day.

Tonight Jim and all three girls came for dinner. As they sat around the table, the conversation was casual and fast, everyone complaining about the humid heat and the traffic, sharing anecdotes from their day. Even Lily seemed friendly, or at least relaxed, resigned to Marina's presence. Perhaps she just needed to get used to the idea.

Abbie had a babysitting job and left right after dinner. Lily excused herself to dress for yet another party.

"Go watch the Red Sox, Dad," Emma said. "I don't have a job tonight. I'll help Marina clean up."

Jim glanced at Marina.

"Go ahead," she said. "I'll join you in awhile."

Emma was the daughter Marina felt most comfortable with, and as they moved around the kitchen, clearing off the table, stacking the dishwasher, putting away leftovers, they fell into an easy, natural rhythm.

"I've had an idea about Millicent Bracebridge's lightship baskets," Emma told Marina once the work was done.

"Share?" Marina held up the wine bottle, which had just enough left for each of them.

"Thanks." Emma held out her gla.s.s and leaned against the counter. "I'd like Sheila Lester to check them out. If she says they're fake, then I can tell Spencer about it and he can do something."

"Do you want me to ask Sheila if she'd appraise them?" Emma asked.

"Would you? I know her, but not as well as you do."

"Oh, I wouldn't say I know her well ... but I know her well enough," Marina decided. "I'll phone her tomorrow."

"Oh, that would be great, Marina. Thanks."

After the kitchen was clean, with the dishwasher gargling along, Marina went in to watch the baseball game with Jim. She'd only sat down when Emma stuck her head into the living room.

"Want to take an evening swim with me, Marina?"

"That's a great idea." Marina turned to Jim. "Want to join us?"

"The Red Sox are tied with the Yankees," Jim said, keeping his eyes on the screen.

Marina laughed. "Okay. See you later."

As they walked through the moonlit streets, Emma said, casually, "You and Dad seem to be getting along nicely."

Marina chose her words carefully. "Your father is a pretty special man."

Emma laughed a full-bodied laugh and linked her arm through Marina's. "I am not five years old! I can tell my father's in love with you."

Startled, Marina said, "You can?"

"Gosh, yes. In fact, I think Lily knew it even before he did."

"What? That doesn't even make sense."

"Yes, it does. Lily noticed the way Dad always brought you fish, when you first rented the cottage. She saw the way he looked at you, and how happy he was after he'd seen you. It freaked her out, actually. She emailed me and Abbie, all in a dither."

"Oh, dear."

"Don't worry about Lily, Marina. She's the baby of the family. It just takes her a little longer to adjust to things."

Should she tell Emma that Jim had asked her to move in with them? Marina wondered. No. No, she should let Jim broach the subject with his daughters. But she wanted to tell Emma something of her feelings. "I really like your father," she said carefully.

"I can tell that. It kind of cheers me up. If you can find someone you enjoy being with so soon after getting dumped, maybe there's hope for me, too."

"So you don't mind that I'm--dating--your father?"

"G.o.d, no! I'm glad! He hasn't had anyone make a fuss over him for years."

They arrived at the beach and kicked off their sandals to walk barefoot over the sand to the water's edge. The night was hot, the water still. Music floated out from boats moored in the harbor and in the distance the lights of the ferry floated toward them like a slowly moving s.p.a.ceship.

Marina waded out into the shallows. The water was warm against her skin, and then, as she went deeper, the water became cool. Beside her, Emma dog-paddled, flipping her feet, clowning around.

"I'm so happy!" Emma laughed. "I don't know why, Marina, but right now, I'm happy."

Marina laughed. She felt as if she could swim forever. "I'm happy, too," she told Emma, and rolled over to do a lazy back crawl so she could gaze up at the moon.

38.

Abbie The relentlessness of the late August heat and humidity was irritating even the happiest of tourists. Main Street was crowded, you couldn't walk along the sidewalk without b.u.mping into people. The grocery stores were so packed, you couldn't get down the aisles. Marine Home Center sold out of window air conditioners. All over the island, car alarms seemed to blare incessantly, and babies wailed as mothers pushed the double-sided strollers along, making everyone else get out of their way.

And Harry had morphed into a little brat. He wouldn't eat any vegetables. He couldn't sit still. He screamed like a two-year-old in the grocery store when Abbie wouldn't buy him a box of cookies. Wednesday evening he wouldn't get out of the bath, so Abbie sat on the bathroom floor for thirty minutes until the child gave up. Then he didn't like his summer pajamas, and he didn't like any of the books Abbie wanted to read to him when she finally got him tucked into bed. By the time she got him to sleep, she was ready to lie down next to him and sleep herself.

Instead, she went downstairs. Howell was at his desk, tapping at his computer.

"Coffee?" she asked. "Or a beer?"

"I've got to get this done," Howell told her. He stretched and yawned. "But I'll take a break." Rising, he walked over to Abbie and enfolded her against him.

"How's your ankle?" she asked.

"Perfect. Not even a twinge. Which is a good thing, since I've got to go to this conference."

Howell was flying out Thursday morning to a conference in Seattle. He had arranged for Abbie to spend Wednesday and Thursday nights with Harry; Sydney would fly in Friday evening. Howell wouldn't be back until Sunday night.

As they settled on the sofa, Abbie asked, "Do you think Harry's so moody because you're leaving?"

"Maybe. Or maybe it's more than that," Howell told Abbie. "I think Harry's aware of the tension between me and Sydney. I don't think he knows anything, but he certainly senses something. Be patient with him, Abbie, please."

"Of course I'll be patient with him," Abbie a.s.sured Howell. "I love Harry."

"And I love you," Howell whispered and kissed her lips, and her throat, and her collarbone. "Let's go to bed."

It was like a dream life. And it was a glimpse into her future.

Abbie slept with Howell all night through, but made sure to set her things around in the guest bedroom so that Harry would think she'd stayed there, just as she would that night.

In the morning she made breakfast for Harry and his father, and dressed Harry for the day while Howell finished packing for his trip. She tucked Harry into his car seat and drove Howell to the airport, and she stood holding hands with Harry as they waved to Howell when he walked out to the plane. She gave Harry a perfect day--beach, library, ice-cream cone, stories--and when she went to bed at night, she couldn't fall asleep for happiness. This was what it would be like when she married Howell.

Friday was the first day of the traveling fair that visited Nantucket annually. It was small, but that only made it seem quaint and perfect for little children. Knowing how easily Harry got overexcited, Abbie opted to take him to the fair in the morning, to give him plenty of time to calm down by evening. When Abbie parked in the sandy lot, she saw lots of other mothers with little children. Good. That made it seem she'd made a good decision.

The day was hot and bright, and the ground was dry and dusty, but once they'd walked through the balloon-covered arch, they entered a fantasy world of rides and arcades and music. Abbie held tight to Harry's little hand, partly because she didn't want to lose him in the crowd, and also to give him a sense of safety. She could tell he was overwhelmed.

She knelt next to Harry. "What shall we do first? How about a ride on the train?"

Harry held back. "Can you sit with me, Nanny Abbie?"

"No, honey, I can't. Look, the seats are just right for someone your age, and the train doesn't go very fast." As she spoke, the little train clacked around the track. The conductor waved and blew the whistle, which made Harry jump.

What a strange little life the boy had had, Abbie thought. He'd ridden in jet airplanes and limos, but hadn't seen much television and he'd certainly never been to an amus.e.m.e.nt park.

"Why don't we go try our hand at one of the games?" she suggested.

It took fifteen minutes of patiently watching other children throw b.a.l.l.s at plastic ducks, all of them walking away with a stuffed animal, before Harry tugged on Abbie's hand and whispered that he'd like to try it.

They got in line, and waited their turn at the wildly decorated stand. The game operator spoke gently and encouragingly to Harry. Eyes wide, Harry threw the b.a.l.l.s three times. The third time, he knocked over a duck and got to choose a stuffed animal. He chose a seahorse with a stiff satin mane and hugged it to his chest, triumphant.

Abbie felt pretty triumphant herself as she continued around the little fair. Harry was now brave enough to climb up inside the bright red fire truck, where he himself could push the b.u.t.ton that activated the siren as the operator pushed another b.u.t.ton that made the truck rock back and forth. After that, Harry was ready for the train, and he liked that so much he asked if he could go around three more times. Abbie was delighted. She'd bet that the seahorse Harry had clutched to his chest was providing him with courage, or at least a sense of companionship. Sydney was so wrong to deprive Harry of the experience of horses!

The tantalizing aroma of hot dogs drifted through the air. Abbie was pretty sure Harry hadn't had a hot dog at a fair before. She bought one for each of them and laughed to see how quickly Harry devoured his. He was still hungry, so she prudently bought him a cup of milk, and then allowed him a cone of cotton candy for his dessert. Harry's eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he was allowed to choose either pink or blue, and when he tasted the concoction, he broke into a surprised smile.

"This is really good, Nanny Abbie," Harry said. "Would you like a taste?"