Текст книги "A Spool of Blue Thread"

Автор книги: Anne Tyler

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

5

ON MONDAY, Denny slept till almost eleven. “Will you look at Mr. Sleepyhead!” Abby said when he finally came downstairs. “What time did you get to bed?”

He shrugged and took a box of cereal from the cupboard. “One thirty?” he said. “Two?”

“Oh, no wonder, then.”

“If I stay up late enough, I have some hope of sleeping through,” he said. “All those middle-of-the-night thoughts swarming in on me; I hate that.”

“Your dad gets up and reads when that happens,” Abby told him.

Denny didn’t bother answering her. The Whitshanks held two opposing opinions about what to do with their wakeful hours, and they had long ago argued the subject into the ground.

After breakfast, as if to make up for lost time, he became a whirlwind of activity. He vacuumed the whole downstairs, oiled the hinges on the backyard gate, and trimmed the backyard hedge. He skipped lunch to scrub the charcoal grill, and then he borrowed Abby’s car and drove to Eddie’s to buy steaks to barbecue for supper. Abby told him to charge the steaks to her account, and he didn’t argue.

The house seemed invisibly partitioned between Nora and Abby – Nora busying herself in the kitchen or tending her children, Abby up in her bedroom or reading in the living room. They were courteous to each other but wary, clearly trying not to get in each other’s way. The only time all day that they engaged in a real conversation was when Denny was at the grocery store. Nora, carrying Sammy upstairs for his afternoon nap, met Abby coming down the stairs with a stack of papers. “Oh, Mother Whitshank,” Nora said. “Is that something I can help you with?”

“No, thank you, dear,” Abby said. “I just thought while Denny was out of the house I’d collect the last of my things from his room. Though heaven knows where I’ll put them.”

“Couldn’t you pack them into a box and store them in the back of his closet?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so.”

“I could bring up a box from the basement. I saw some near the washing machine.”

“I don’t think so,” Abby said more firmly, and then she sighed and patted the spiral-bound notebook on the top of her stack. “I never feel quite comfortable leaving my belongings where Denny can get at them,” she said.

“Oh,” Nora said. She hitched Sammy higher on her hip, but she didn’t continue up the stairs.

“I know he doesn’t mean any harm, but I have poems and private journals and little thoughts I’ve jotted down. I’d feel silly if anyone saw them.”

“Well, of course,” Nora said.

“So I figured I’d haul it all to the sunroom and do some pruning. Then I’ll see if Red will lend me one of his desk drawers.”

“I’d be happy to bring down what’s left,” Nora said.

“Oh, I think I’ve got everything, dear.”

And the two of them went their separate ways.

For supper they had Denny’s grilled steaks and Nora’s homemade succotash. Nora cooked in a sort of country style; succotash wasn’t something the rest of them were accustomed to. And she did that modern thing of preparing a whole different dish for the children when they wouldn’t eat their steaks. She went out to the kitchen without complaint and fixed macaroni and cheese from a box. Abby told the boys, “Oh, your poor mother! Isn’t she nice to get up from her meal and make you something special,” which was her way of saying that her own children used to eat what was set before them. But the boys had heard this before, and they just gazed at her expressionlessly. Only Red seemed to read her meaning. “Now, hon,” he told her. “That’s how things are done these days.”

“Well, I know that!”

The boys had spent the latter part of the afternoon at the neighborhood pool with Nora, and they were pink-faced and slick-haired and puffy-eyed. Sammy’s head kept drooping over his plate; he hadn’t slept during his nap. “Early bedtime for all of you,” Stem told them.

“Can’t we play catch with Uncle Denny first?” Petey asked.

Stem glanced over at Denny.

“Fine with me,” Denny said.

“Yippee!”

“How was work today?” Abby asked Red.

Red said, “Work was a pain in the ass. Got this lady who’s—”

“Excuse me,” Abby said, and she stood up and went out to the kitchen, calling, “Nora, please come eat your supper! Let me do the macaroni.”

Red rolled his eyes and then, taking advantage of her absence, reached for the butter and added a giant dollop to his succotash.

“I knew that lady was trouble when she brought out her four-inch binder,” Stem told Red.

“Pick, pick, pick,” Red agreed. “Niggle, niggle, niggle.”

Nora emerged from the kitchen with a saucepan and a serving spoon, Abby following. “Great succotash, Nora,” Red said.

“Thank you.”

She dished macaroni onto Tommy’s plate, then Petey’s, then Sammy’s. Abby resettled herself in her chair and reached for her napkin. “So,” she told Red. “You were saying?”

“Pardon?”

“You were saying about work?”

“I forget,” Red said huffily.

“He was saying about Mrs. Bruce,” Stem told her. “Lady who’s getting her kitchen updated.”

“I warned her about that grout,” Red said. “I told her more than once, I said, ‘Ma’am, you go for that urethane grout and you’re adding on two days’ work time. Cleanup is a bitch.’ ”

Then he said, “Oh, pardon me,” because Nora was sending him a sorrowful look from under her long, heavy lashes.

“Cleanup’s hell,” he said. “I mean, difficult. Major hazing problem. Didn’t I tell her that, Stem?”

“You told her.”

“And what does she do? Goes for urethane. Then throws a hissy fit over how much time the guys are taking.”

He paused a moment and frowned, perhaps wondering if the word “hissy” were something Nora could object to.

“I don’t know why you put up with people like that,” Denny said.

“Comes with the territory,” Red said.

“I wouldn’t stand for it.”

“You might not,” Red told him, “but we don’t have that luxury. Half our men were idle for the first two weeks in April. You think that’s any picnic? We take what jobs we can get, nowadays, and thank our lucky stars.”

“You were the one who was griping,” Denny said.

“I was explaining how work is, is all. But what would you know about that?”

Denny bent over his steak and sliced off a piece in silence.

“Well!” Abby said. “I don’t know when I’ve eaten such a lovely meal, Nora.”

“Yes, it’s good, sweetheart,” Stem said.

“Denny grilled the steaks,” Nora said.

“Good steaks, Denny.”

Denny said nothing.

“Now can we play catch?” Tommy asked him.

Stem said, “Let him finish his supper, son.”

“No, I’m done,” Denny said. “Thanks, Nora.” And he pushed back his chair and stood up, even though most of his steak remained and he had barely touched his succotash.

On Tuesday, Denny slept till noon. Then he mopped all the bathroom floors and the floor in the kitchen. He swept the front porch, wiped down the porch furniture, and tightened a loose baluster he discovered in the porch railing. He repaired the clasp on a string of Abby’s beads and swapped out the battery in a smoke detector. Later that afternoon, while Nora and the children were at the pool, he put together an elaborate vegetable lasagna to serve for supper that night. Nora had been planning to serve hamburgers and corn on the cob, as she told him when she returned, but Denny said they could have those the next night.

“Or we could have your lasagna the next night,” Nora said, “because hamburgers and corn on the cob ought to be eaten fresh.”

“Oh, you two!” Abby cried. “Neither one of you needs to trouble yourself about supper. I’m capable of that much.”

“My lasagna should be eaten fresh too,” Denny said. “Look. Nora. I’m just trying to keep busy here. I don’t have enough to do.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Abby announced to the room at large. “Too many people are trying to help!”

But she might as well have been a gnat. Neither one of them so much as glanced at her; they were too busy facing each other down.

Supper that night was hamburgers and corn on the cob. Halfway through the meal, Denny asked, in a tone of detached curiosity, “Stem, did it ever occur to you that you may have married your mother?”

“Married my mother?” Stem asked. “Which mother?”

“They both claim to be oh so accommodating, but you notice how—” Denny broke off. “Huh?” he said. “Which mother!”

He sat back and stared at Stem.

Nora continued placidly spreading butter on her ear of corn. Stem said, “Nora is very accommodating. I’d like to know how many other women would be willing to pack up and leave their homes behind the way she has.”

“Oh,” Abby wailed, “but we didn’t ask her to do that! We wouldn’t ask it of any of you!”

Nora said, “Of course you wouldn’t, Mother Whitshank. We volunteered. We wanted to do it. Think of all Douglas owes you.”

“Owes?” Abby said. She looked stung.

All at once Red came alive at the head of the table and said, “What? What’s going on?” He glanced from face to face, but Abby made a dismissive downward gesture with one hand, so he didn’t pursue it.

On Wednesday, Denny got up at ten thirty, so maybe he was inching into a halfway normal schedule. He vacuumed all the bedrooms and folded a load of laundry that Nora had put in the dryer, completely mixing up which clothes belonged to which person. Then he replaced a button on one of Abby’s blouses, leaving a spill of spools and crochet hooks on the shelf in the linen closet where Abby kept her sewing box. After that he played Crazy Eights with the little boys. When Abby told him she was heading off for her pottery class, he offered to drive her, but she said she always hitched a ride with Ree Bascomb. “Suit yourself,” Denny said, “but I’m just sitting here twiddling my thumbs; you might as well make use of me.”

“You’re very useful, dear,” Abby said. “It’s just that Ree and I have been riding together forever. But I appreciate the thought.”

“Can I borrow your computer while you’re gone?” Denny asked.

“My computer,” Abby said. A panicked look crossed her face.

“I’d like to get online.”

“Well, you aren’t … you won’t read my e-mail or anything, will you?”

“No, Mom. Who do you take me for?”

She didn’t seem reassured.

“I just wanted to connect to the outside world, for once,” Denny said. “I’m kind of isolated here.”

“Oh, Denny, haven’t I been saying? You ought not to be here!”

“How welcoming,” Denny said.

“Oh, you know what I mean. I’m not an old lady, Denny. I don’t need to have my hand held. This is all so unnecessary!”

“Is that so,” Denny said.

And then, as if her words had jinxed things, that afternoon she had one of her blank spells.

She had promised to be back from her pottery class around four. They didn’t start worrying till five. Red and Stem were home by then, and Red was the one who said, “Don’t you figure your mom should be here now? I know she and Ree get to talking, but still!”

“Do you have Ree’s phone number?” Denny asked.

“It’s on the speed dial. Maybe one of you all could call. I’m not so good on the phone these days.”

All three men looked at Nora. “I’ll do it,” she said.

She went to the phone in the sunroom, and Red tagged after her. Stem and Denny stayed seated in the living room. “Hello? Mrs. Bascomb?” they heard her say. “This is Nora, Abby Whitshank’s daughter-in-law. Do you happen to have her there with you?”

There was a pause, and then she said, “I see. Well, thank you so much!.. Yes, I’m sure she will. Goodbye.” The receiver clicked into its cradle. “They got back to Mrs. Bascomb’s an hour ago,” she said, “and Mother Whitshank set out for home straightaway.”

“Damn! Sorry,” Red said. “I’ve told her and told her, I said, ‘Make Ree take you all the way to our door.’ She knows she’s not supposed to walk home by herself. Shoot, I bet she walked over there, too.”

Stem and Denny exchanged glances. The distance was barely a block and a half; it was news to both of them that Abby couldn’t be trusted to manage it.

“Maybe she stopped by a friend’s house on the way back,” Nora said.

“Nora,” Red said. “People in this neighborhood do not stop by.”

“I didn’t know that,” Nora said.

They returned to the living room, and Denny stood up from his chair. “Okay,” he said. “Stem, you walk up Bouton toward Ree’s. I’ll head in the other direction in case she somehow bypassed the house.”

“I’m coming too,” Red said.

“Fine.”

The three of them left. Nora stepped onto the porch to watch after them, her arms folded across her chest.

Stem took off toward Ree Bascomb’s in his long, loping stride, while Red and Denny turned in the opposite direction. Red’s pace was more laborious. Always before, he’d been a man in a hurry; now he trudged. They hadn’t even reached the third house before they heard Stem call out, “Found her!” Or Denny heard. Red continued plodding on. Denny touched his sleeve. “He found her,” he said.

“Eh?” Red turned.

“Stem found her.”

They started back, passing home. They could see Stem up at the far end of the block, facing the Lincolns’ house, but they couldn’t see Abby. Denny walked faster, letting Red drop behind.

Abby was sitting on the brick steps leading to the Lincolns’ front walk, with a colorful pottery object resting on her lap. She seemed fine, but she was making no attempt to rise. “I’m so sorry!” she told Denny and Red when they reached her. “I don’t know how to explain it. I was just sitting here; that was the first thing I knew. I was sitting on these steps and I thought, ‘Am I coming, or am I going?’ I honestly couldn’t tell. It was so unsettling!”

“But you had your pottery,” Stem pointed out.

“My what?”

She looked down at it – a charming little clay house, no bigger than a box of notecards. The exterior was a vivid yellow, and the roof was red. A snarl of green pottery tendrils spread across one end of the roof to give a suggestion of leafy boughs.

“My pottery,” she said wonderingly.

“So you must have been coming, right? Coming home from pottery class.”

“Oh. Right,” Abby said. Then she cupped the house in both hands and held it up to them. “My very best work so far!” she said. “See?”

“Good job, hon,” Red told her.

And all three men nodded too vigorously, beaming too brightly, like parents admiring a piece of art that a child has brought home from nursery school.

Because of the way the house on Bouton Road was designed, a person could stand at the upstairs hall railing and hear everything that was said in the entrance hall below. The Whitshank children – and sometimes Red as well – used to do this whenever the doorbell rang, lurking invisibly overhead until they could be certain that it wasn’t just one of Abby’s orphans.

But Merrick, of course, had been a child in that house herself once upon a time, so when she dropped by on Thursday evening, she peered overhead the instant Abby let her in. “Who is that?” she called out. “I know you’re up there.”

After a pause, Denny appeared at the top of the stairs. “Hi, Aunt Merrick,” he said.

“Denny? What are you doing home? Hello, Redcliffe,” she added, because Red had stepped forward too now, his hair still damp from his after-work shower.

“Hey there,” he said.

Abby said, “How nice to see you, Merrick,” and gave her a peck on the cheek, craning around the cardboard carton in Merrick’s arms.

“Abby,” Merrick said neutrally. Then, “Why, hello, cutie!” because Heidi had just bounded in, panting and grinning. Merrick was always much nicer to dogs than to humans. “Who is this sweetie pie?” she asked Abby.

“That’s Heidi.”

“Don’t tell me poor old Brenda finally died.”

“No …” Abby said.

“Well, how do you do, Miss Heidi?” Merrick said, and she shifted her carton to one hip in order to stroke Heidi’s long nose.

Not counting the carton, Merrick was the picture of elegance – an angular, hatchet-faced woman, her too-black hair cut as short as a boy’s, wearing slim white pants and an Asian-looking tunic. “We’re about to leave for a cruise,” she told Abby, “and after that I’m going on to the Florida place, so I’ve brought you all the goodies from my fridge.”

“Hmm,” Abby said. Merrick was forever foisting her dribs and drabs of leftovers on the family. She disapproved of waste. “Well, bring them in,” Abby said, and she led Merrick toward the kitchen. Red and Denny, who had made their way down the stairs as slowly as possible, trailed them at a distance.

“How long are you here for?” Merrick asked Denny.

“I’ve come to help out,” he said.

This didn’t exactly answer her question, but before she could press him, Abby broke in to say, “What have you been up to, Merrick? We haven’t seen you all summer!”

“You know I hate to come here in hot weather,” Merrick said. “It’s barbaric, not to have air conditioning in this day and age.” She set the carton on the kitchen table with a thump. “Why, Norma,” she said.

Nora barely turned from the pot she was stirring. “Nora,” she said coolly.

“Does this mean Stem is here, too?” Merrick asked Abby. “Stem and Denny, both at the same time?”

“Yes, isn’t that lovely?” Abby said in a sort of cheerleader tone.

“Wonders never cease.”

“He’s upstairs showering just now. I’m sure he’ll be down in a minute.”

“Why is he showering here?”

Abby was saved from having to answer this by Red’s sudden “Excuse me?”

“Why here, I said.”

“Why what here?”

“Honestly, Redcliffe. Give up and get a hearing aid.”

“I have a hearing aid. I have two.”

“Get some that work, then.”

The three little boys arrived on the back porch, piling against a screen that was already starting to bulge. They yanked the door open and tumbled inside, breathless and overheated-looking. “Is it supper yet?” Petey asked.

“Boys, you remember your Great-Aunt Merrick,” Abby said.

“Hi,” Petey said uncertainly.

“How do you do,” Merrick said, extending her hand. He studied it a moment and then raised his own hand to give her a high five, which didn’t quite work out. He ended up accidentally slapping the backs of her fingers. His brothers didn’t attempt even that much. “We’re hungry!” one of them said. “When’s supper?”

“It’s all ready,” Nora told them. “Go wash up and we can sit down.”

“What: now?” Merrick asked. “Don’t I get a drink?”

Everyone looked at Abby. Abby said, “Oh. Would you like one?”

“I don’t suppose you have any vodka,” Merrick said happily.

There was a moment when it seemed that Abby might say no, but then some sort of hostess instinct must have kicked in, and she said, “Of course.” (They had it because of Merrick.) Red and Denny slumped. “Will you see to the drinks, dear?” Abby asked Denny. “Let’s the rest of us go to the living room.”

As she and Red and Merrick left the kitchen, Petey was heard to say, “But we’re starving!” and Nora murmured something in reply.

“I haven’t had a chance to sit down all day,” Merrick told Abby as they crossed the hall. “It’s exhausting, getting ready for a trip.”

“Where are you off to?”

“We’re taking a cruise down the Danube.”

“How nice.”

“Wouldn’t you know, Trey is being a bore about it. He’d rather go golfing somewhere. Oh! Brenda! There you are! God, she looks dead, the poor darling. What happened to Father’s clock?”

Abby glanced from Brenda, stretched out on the cooling hearthstones, to the clock on the mantel above. A crack ran across the glass of its case. “There was a little mishap with a baseball,” she said. “Won’t you have a seat?”

“Boys are so hard on houses,” Merrick said, folding herself into an armchair. She had been shadowed by Heidi, who settled expectantly at her knee. “And why are there so many of them? Did I count three?”

“Oh, yes,” Abby said. “There are three, all right.”

“Was the third one planned?” Merrick asked. “Oh. Stem. Hello. Had you planned on a third child?”

“Not really,” Stem said cheerfully. He gave off the scent of Dial soap as he crossed the room to a chair. “How’re you doing, Aunt Merrick?”

“I’m exhausted, I was just saying,” Merrick told him. “It seems preparing for a trip gets more tiring every year.”

“Why not stay home, then?”

“What!” she said in horror. Then she sat up straighter; Denny was bringing the drinks. In one hand he held a tumbler tinkling with ice and filled to the brim with vodka, and in the other a glass of white wine. Three cans of beer were tucked perilously under his left arm. “Here we go,” he said. He placed the tumbler on the lamp table next to her. He crossed to give Abby the wine and then handed a can of beer each to Red and Stem, after which he sat down on the couch with the third can and popped the tab. “Cheers,” he said.

Merrick took a deep swig of her drink and breathed out a long “Ahh.” She asked Denny, “Is Sarah here too?”

“Who’s Sarah?”

“Sarah your daughter.”

“Susan, you mean.”

“Susan, Sarah … Is Susan here too?”

“She’s coming down for the beach trip.”

“Oh, God, not that everlasting beach trip,” Merrick said. “You’re like lemmings about that beach! Or spawning salmon, or something. Don’t you all ever think about vacationing any place else?”

“We love the beach,” Abby told her.

“Really,” Merrick said, and she drew her sharp purple fingernails languidly across the top of Heidi’s head. “Sometimes it amazes me that our ancestors had the gumption to make it to America,” she told Red.

“Excuse me?”

“America!” she shouted.

Red looked confused.

“Mother and Father never traveled at all, if you’ll remember,” she told him.

“Well, you have certainly made up for that,” Red said. “You seem to need more than one house, even.”

“What can I say? I hate winter.”

“In my opinion,” Red said, “going to Florida for the winter is kind of like … not paying your dues. Not standing fast for the hard part.”

“Are you calling Baltimore summers the easy part?” Merrick asked. Then, as if to prove her point, she said “Whew!” and left off petting Heidi to bat a hand in front of her face. “Can somebody turn that fan up a notch?”

Stem rose and gave the fan cord a tug.

“I can see why you might want two houses,” Denny spoke up. “Or even more than two. I get that. I bet sometimes when you wake in the morning you don’t know where you are for a moment, am I right? You’re completely disoriented.”

“Well … I guess,” Merrick said.

“Before you open your eyes you think, ‘Why does it feel like the light is coming from my left? I thought the window was on my right. Which house is this, anyway?’ Or you get out of bed at night to go pee and you walk into a wall. ‘Whoa!’ you say. ‘Where’s the bathroom gone?’ ”

Merrick said, “Well …” and Abby took on a worried look. Evidently Denny was having one of his unexpectedly confiding moments.

“I love that feeling,” he said. “You don’t know your place in the world; you’re not pegged; you’re not nailed into this one single same old never-ending spot.”

“I suppose,” Merrick said.

“You think that might be the reason people travel?” he asked. “I’ll bet it could be. Is that why you travel?”

“Oh, well, it’s more like I’m just trying to get as far as possible from Trey’s mother,” Merrick said. She swirled the ice in her glass. “The old bat just celebrated her ninety-ninth birthday,” she told Red. “Can you believe it? Queen Eula the Immortal. I swear, I think she’s staying alive just to spite me. It’s not only that she’s a pill herself; I blame her for making Trey such a pill. She spoiled that man rotten, I tell you. Gave him every little thing he ever wanted: the Prince of Roland Park.”

Red put a hand to his forehead and said, “This is so eerie! Is it déjà vu? Why do I feel like I’ve heard this someplace before?”

“And the older he gets, the worse he gets,” she went on obliviously. “Even when he was young he was a hopeless hypochondriac, but now! Believe me, it was a dark day in the universe when the Internet started letting people research their medical symptoms.”

She might have gone on (she usually did), but at that moment Petey came into the room. “Grandma,” he said, “can we have the last of that fudge ripple?”

“What: before supper?” Abby asked.

“We’re already eating our supper.”

“Yes, you can have it. And take Heidi when you go, will you? She’s sneezing again.”

It was true that Heidi had started sneezing – a whole fit of sneezes, light but spattery. “Gesundheit,” Merrick told her. “What’s the trouble, honeybunch? Coming down with something?”

“She does this all day long,” Abby said. “You wouldn’t suppose sneezing would be such an irritation, but it is.”

Petey said, “Mom thinks it’s on account of she’s allergic to Grandma’s rugs.”

“Well, I wouldn’t bring her to visit, then, poor baby,” Merrick said.

“She’s got to visit. She lives here.”

“Heidi lives here?”

“She lives here with us.”

“You live here?”

“Yes, and Sammy’s allergic, too. All night he breathes dramatically.” Merrick looked at Abby.

“Take Heidi to the kitchen, Petey,” Abby said. “Yes,” she told Merrick, “they’ve moved in to help out; isn’t that nice?”

“Help out with what?”

“Well, just … you know. We’re getting older!”

“I’m getting older too, but I haven’t turned my house into a commune.”

“To each his own, I guess!” Abby sang out merrily.

“Wait,” Merrick said. “Is there something someone’s not telling me? Has one of you been diagnosed with some terminal disease?”

“No, but after Red’s heart attack—”

“Red had a heart attack?”

“You knew that. You sent him a fruit basket in the hospital.”

“Oh,” Merrick said. “Yes, maybe I did.”

“And I’m not so spry either, lately.”

“This is ridiculous,” Merrick said. “Two people get a bit wobbly and their entire family moves in with them? I never heard of such a thing.”

Denny cleared his throat. “Actually,” he said, “Stem is not here on a permanent basis.”

“Well, thank heaven.”

“I am.”

Merrick looked at him, waiting for him to go on. The others stared down at their laps.

“I’m the one who’s staying,” Denny said.

Stem said, “Well, not—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, why is anyone staying?” Merrick asked. “If your parents are really so decrepit – and I must say I find that hard to believe; they’re barely in their seventies – they should move to a retirement community. That’s what other people do.”

“We’re too independent for a retirement community,” Red told her.

“Independent? Bosh. That’s just another word for selfish. It’s stiff-backed people like you who end up being the biggest burdens.”

Stem rose to his feet. “Well,” he said, “I guess Nora must be fretting about her supper getting cold,” and he stood waiting in the center of the room.

Everyone looked at him in surprise. Finally Merrick said, “Oh, I see. Clear that tiresome woman out of here; she tells too many home truths.” But she was standing up as she spoke, draining the last of her drink as she moved toward the front hall. “I know, I know,” she said. “I see how it is.”

The others rose to follow her. “Here,” Merrick said at the door, and she thrust her empty glass at Abby. “And by the way,” she told Denny. “You’re supposed to have a life by now. You’re only putting things off, scurrying back home on the slightest excuse.”

She left, clicking across the porch with a brisk, energetic stride, like someone triumphant in the knowledge that she had set everybody straight.

“What is she talking about?” Denny asked after a moment.

Abby said, “Oh, you know how she is.”

“I can’t abide that woman.”

Ordinarily Abby would have tut-tutted, but now she just sighed and headed for the kitchen.

The men went into the dining room and settled at the table, none of them speaking, although Red did say, as he dropped onto his chair, “Ah, me.” They waited in a kind of drained silence. From the kitchen they could hear the burble of the little boys’ voices and a clatter of utensils. Then Nora emerged through the swinging door, carrying a casserole. Abby came behind with a salad. “You should see Merrick’s leftovers,” she told the men. “A smidgen of store-bought pasta sauce in the bottom of a jar. A wedge of Brie completely hollowed out inside the rind. And … what else, Nora?” she asked.

“A cold broiled lamb chop,” Nora said, setting the casserole on the table.

“A lamb chop, yes, and a Chinese take-out carton of rice, and one single, solitary pickle in a bottle of scummy brine.”

“We should put her in touch with Hugh,” Denny said.

“Hugh?” Abby asked.

“Amanda’s Hugh. Do Not Pass Go. She could call him before every trip.”

“Oh, you’re right,” Abby said. “They’re made for each other!”

“He’d tell her he knows a soup kitchen that’s dying to have her leftovers, and he’d come by her house and collect them and take them off to the trash.”

This made the others laugh – even Nora, a little. Red said, “Oh, now. You folks,” but he was laughing too.

“What?” Tommy asked. He’d cracked open the door from the kitchen. “What’s so funny?”

None of them wanted to say; they just smiled and shook their heads. To a child, they must have looked like some happy, cozy club that only grown-ups could belong to.

It took a total of five vehicles to carry them all to the beach. They could have managed with fewer, but Red insisted, as usual, on driving his pickup. How else could they bring everything they needed, he always asked – the rafts and boogie boards, the sand toys for the children, the kites and the paddle-ball racquets and the giant canvas shade canopy with its collapsible metal frame? (In the old days, before computers, he used to include the entire Encyclopaedia Britannica.) So he and Abby made the three-hour trip in the pickup, while Denny drove Abby’s car with Susan in the passenger seat and the food hampers in the rear. Stem and Nora and the three little boys came in Nora’s car, and Jeannie and Jeannie’s Hugh started out separately from their own house with their two children, though not with Hugh’s mother, who always spent the beach week visiting Hugh’s sister in California.

Amanda and Amanda’s Hugh and Elise traveled on a whole different day – Saturday morning instead of Friday afternoon, since Amanda always had trouble getting away from her law office – and they stayed in a different cottage, because Amanda’s Hugh couldn’t tolerate what he called the hurly-burly.

None of the dogs came. They were all boarding at Penpals.

The house the Whitshanks rented every summer stood right on the beach – a comparatively uncrowded stretch of the Delaware coast – but it wasn’t what you’d call luxurious. The walls were tongue-and-groove, painted a depressing pea-soup green; the floorboards were so splintery no one dared go barefoot; the kitchen dated from the 1940s. But it was big enough for all of them, and far homier than the glittering new mansions with giant Palladian windows that had popped up elsewhere along the shore. Besides, Red could always use a few fix-it jobs to keep him occupied. (He wasn’t a natural vacationer.) Even before Abby and Nora had unpacked the food, he had happily catalogued half a dozen minor household emergencies. “Will you look at this outlet!” he said. “Practically dangling by a thread!” And off he went to the truck for his tools, with Jeannie’s Hugh not far behind.