Текст книги "Summer Rental"

Автор книги: Mary Kay Andrews

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

41

The dinner dishes had been cleared away, the last of the wine drunk. Booker had graciously accepted all the women’s compliments for the dinner he’d masterminded: tuna steaks on the grill; chipotle-pepper-roasted corn on the cob; and risotto with green peas, asparagus, shallots, and basil. Dorie and Ellis spilled a five-hundred-piece jigsaw puzzle depicting the Cape Hatteras lighthouse onto the dining room table and declared their intentions of finishing it by midnight. Madison, who’d finally given in to their pleas, joined them for dinner, but declared herself hopeless at puzzles. For the first time since she’d been living in the house, she seemed at ease with the group.

“Come on, Book,” Julia said, flipping him lightly with her dish towel. “I can’t stand all this excitement. Let’s take a walk on the beach.”

She led him down the beach stairs and onto the sand. They left their shoes in the pillowy sand at the base of the steps and walked hand-in-hand out to the water’s edge.

“Which way?” Booker asked.

“Hmm, north, I think,” Julia said. “Cottage Row is just up ahead.”

“What’s that?”

“What’s left of the original old houses built in Nags Head at the turn of the century,” Julia said. “There were originally, like, a dozen or so houses. All of ’em wooden, like Ebbtide. They call them the ‘unpainted aristocracy.’ Ebbtide’s not one of them. Ty told us his family had the house built in the 1930s.”

They walked slowly, stopping to gaze at the stars, or just stand in the moonlight, looking up at the rows of houses, lit up with summertime occupants. Voices and the sound of a radio playing drifted down from the houses beyond the dunes.

“These are the oldest houses,” Julia said, when they’d walked a little further. The houses were further apart here, sprawling wooden structures with outward-canted porches, their wooden walls gleaming a dull brownish-silver in the moonlight.

“Not very fancy,” Booker said approvingly.

“Nope,” Julia agreed. “From what Ty tells us, the old-time Nags Headers consider it crude to flaunt your money by fixing up your house or adding on a wing. Nothing at all had been done at Ebbtide in decades, until Ty bought it from an uncle and started trying to fix it up.”

“You like it here,” Booker said, sounding surprised.

“It has a certain charm that grows on you,” Julia admitted. “At first, I was pretty grossed out by the place. I mean, I didn’t want to hurt Ellis’s feelings, since she did all the research and work of tracking down the house and getting it lined up and everything, but it was seriously skanky when we moved in.”

“Not exactly the kind of beach house you’re used to.” Booker laughed, nudging her gently.

“We had a little bit of a rocky start,” Julia said. “Ellis was being so … bossy. She even made up a chore chart for the kitchen, if you can believe it.”

“And we all know how Julia Capelli deals with authority, now, don’t we?” Booker said.

“We worked things out,” Julia said. “Pretty much. It’s been an interesting month, that’s for sure.”

“And what about you?” Booker asked. “What’s been going on with you? Aside from the pictures and a couple phone calls, you’ve been surprisingly quiet for the past month, Julia.”

“I know,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Come to any conclusions?”

“Some.”

“Such as?”

Julia brushed her long hair back from her face. “I’m done modeling.”

Booker nodded. “Have you told the agency?”

“Not yet. They’ve booked me for a JCPenney catalog shoot when I leave here. I guess I’ll have to go ahead and do it, because I don’t want to leave Jessica in the lurch. But that’s it. No more.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Booker said.

“The girls think…” she started. “No, I think I’d like to try doing photo styling.”

“You’d be a natural,” Booker said. “You’ve been doing it on your own for years, anyway. I’ve always said you have the best eye in the business, Julia.”

“I’d need your help,” Julia said, giving him a sidelong glance. “You know everybody. The magazine people, the photographers, art directors.”

“Not everybody,” Booker said. “But I do have some resources.”

“I know I’d have to start off as an assistant,” Julia went on. “Doing the grunt work. Cataloging props, making coffee runs, ironing shirts and pillowcases.”

“Not very glamorous,” Booker said.

“I was thinking of asking Annette Joseph if she’d take me on,” Julia said.

“Do I know her?”

“I met her at a catalog shoot in Miami last year,” Julia said. “She works out of Atlanta, but she does a lot of work for shelter magazines, so she gets assignments all over the East Coast.”

“Atlanta,” Booker said, his face impassive.

“It makes sense because of the airport,” Julia said.

“We have two airports in DC, you know.”

“Hear me out,” Julia said, taking a deep breath. “We could sell the flat in London.”

Booker stopped walking. “You’d consider it?”

Julia swallowed hard. “If I’m not working in Europe, it doesn’t make sense to keep it. I know the real estate market is crap right now, but Mayfair is so trendy, even in a down market we should be able to make a killing when we sell it.”

“Or lease it, long-term,” Booker said. “In case you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” Julia promised. “I’ve been in a holding pattern for too long, avoiding the inevitable. London was wonderful, my work was exciting, but it isn’t anymore. Hasn’t been in a long time. You’re here in the States. I want to be with you. It’s that simple. I have missed you, Booker.”

“Have you?” He put his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.

She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely. “I do love you, you know,” she said, resting her forehead on his chest. “This month, at the beach, with everything the girls have been through, sort of forced me to stop and take stock of things. Dorie basically told me off the other day.”

“Dorie? Sweet little Dorie?”

“Not so sweet if you really get to know her,” Julia said ruefully. “And then, Madison, who barely knows me at all, said something at lunch today that kind of tipped the scale for me.”

“And what was that?” Booker inquired, running his hands up the back of the thin cotton peasant top Julia was wearing, and kissing her neck.

“She kind of called me out,” Julia said. “She said I couldn’t keep making chickenshit assumptions about marriage based on other people’s mistakes.”

“Smart girl,” Booker said, holding her closer.

“I guess…” Julia stopped and pulled away, but Booker had no intention of letting her go.

“You guess what?”

She turned, so that her back was to him. “I guess I don’t think I deserve somebody like you. Somebody as good as you. Maybe that’s why I keep trying to push you away.”

“What?” He put his hands on her shoulder and wheeled her around. “What kind of crap is that?”

Julia shrugged and swallowed hard. She took a deep breath. “There are things about me … things you don’t know.”

He chortled. “We’ve lived together for nearly ten years. Tell me one thing about you that I don’t know. Come on. I dare you.”

She bit her lip. “The thing is … I got pregnant when I was eighteen. It was an ectopic pregnancy, Book. I only have one good fallopian tube. I don’t know if I can have children.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I should have told you years ago.”

He traced the tear with the tip of his thumb. “And you think this is some kind of deal breaker for me? Julia, love. Is this the thing that’s been eating at you all this time?”

She nodded sadly, the tears flowing nonstop now. “People think I’m this perfect model thing. But I’m not! It’s all plastic! I’ve had my nose fixed, and my boobs done, and for all I know, I’m infertile, too.”

“Stop that,” Booker said sternly. “And listen to me. The only person who thinks you’re plastic is you. You are the warmest, realest woman I have ever met. I don’t give a damn about your nose or your fallopian tube, or your hammertoes or whatever. I fell in love with you, Julia Capelli. The whole package. And as far as I’m concerned, you are perfect. Hell, look at me. I’m pushing fifty. Maybe I’m infertile too. Yeah, I want kids. But only if you do too. So maybe we do this the modern way. Test tubes, petri dishes, adoption, I don’t care. I just want you. Have you got that?”

Julia sniffed and nodded, slowly. She rested her cheek on Booker’s shoulder, and surreptitiously rubbed her runny nose on his shirt. He rubbed her back reassuringly.

“Madison said I should just quit worrying about other people’s lives, and get on with ours.”

“I think I like that girl,” Booker said, slowly working his thumbs under the edge of Julia’s bra.

“And she reminded me that life is short, and nothing is guaranteed. Carpe diem, baby, you know?”

“Latin?” Booker said, with an exaggerated groan. “You know how turned on I get when you talk foreign.”

“Grow up,” Julia said. But she’d slipped her hands into the waistband of his shorts and was fully aware of how turned on Booker had gotten.

“I think,” Booker said solemnly, “we had better turn back to Ebbtide so you can take advantage of me. I mean, how will we ever know if we can make babies unless we actually try?”

“Mmm,” Julia said. “You’re probably right. The house would be much more civilized than the beach. Wouldn’t want to scare the seagulls.”

They made it all the way back to the stairway at Ebbtide and sat on the bottom step to brush the sand off their feet.

“I hate to break this golden moment,” Booker said finally. “But I can’t help wonder how you’re going to be with me in DC, and at the same time work in Atlanta.”

Julia kissed his nose. “With the money we’ll make from selling the London flat, I can rent something tiny and convenient in Atlanta. A pied-à-terre, if you will. I’ll live full time in this amazing house you’ve found us in Alexandria, and travel to shoots wherever I’m needed. Of course, this is all predicated on a couple of things. First off, I’ll have to persuade Annette to give me a shot at learning the business.”

“Not a problem. You’re a very persuasive girl, in my experience.”

“And then,” Julia said, dusting the sand off her shorts and climbing onto Booker’s lap, “I’ll have to figure out how to plan a wedding before Dorie gets as big as an elephant and Ellis takes a new job God knows where. And since you’ve just started a new job, when will you be able to take some vacation time?”

“A wedding?” Booker mused. “Is somebody having a wedding?”

“We are, if you’ll have me,” Julia whispered. “Just name the date.”

“Oh, I’ll have you, my love,” Booker said. “You’ll just have to let me consult my calendar. It’s upstairs. In your room.”

42

Saturday morning, Ellis raced over to the garage apartment, bursting with the news about Booker’s friend Simon, the movie location scout. But the Bronco was already gone.

She considered calling his cell, but decided against it. He could be anyplace, and she wanted to tell him the news in person. She fished the key Ty had given her out of the pocket of her shorts, and climbed the stairs to the apartment.

He’d obviously come in late the night before. A Styrofoam takeout tray sat on the table Ty used as a desk, along with an empty Corona bottle and a crumpled newspaper. A cereal bowl with a film of milk sat in the sink, along with a spoon and an empty juice glass. The counter was cluttered with a cereal box, empty orange juice carton, and a sugar bowl with a spoon stuck in it. A single fly buzzed lazily around, batting against the wire window screen.

Ellis walked into the bedroom. The quilt and bedcovers lay in a rumpled heap at the foot of the bed, and Ty’s T-shirt and shorts were thrown on the floor, along with a still-damp towel.

She sighed happily and started to put the tiny apartment to rights. She washed and rinsed the dishes, putting them away in the Hoosier cupboard, and wiped off the gummy kitchen counter. She opened the door to the deck and swept what seemed like a pound of sand out the door and through the cracks in the deck boards, just as she remembered her mother sweeping out the houses they rented at the beach at Tybee during her childhood summers.

Ellis smiled contentedly as she stripped Ty’s bed, gathering the sheets and discarded clothing into a bundle. She would wash them in the laundry room at Ebbtide, she decided, and surprise Ty when he got back from his errands.

As she was stepping out of the apartment onto the deck, a car came bumping down the Ebbtide driveway. It was a sleek dark gray Mercedes convertible, with a man at the wheel and a woman with long blond hair sitting beside him, her eyes shaded by a pale blue sun visor. The driver pulled the car directly up to the garage, as though he knew exactly where he was going.

Were these prospective renters for Ebbtide? Ellis wondered. Ty hadn’t said anything about showing the house while she and the others were still in residence, but she assumed he’d want to rent the house out again as soon as they vacated the place next Saturday.

There was that stabbing feeling in her chest again. Vacate. Saturday was only a week away.

The woman got out of the convertible and looked up at Ellis in curiosity.

The blonde was Kendra. Ty’s ex-wife. And the driver was Ryan, or as Ty referred to him, Fuckface.

“Hey there,” the blonde called, waving. “Is Ty around?”

“Nope,” Ellis said. “Haven’t seen him this morning.” She turned and went back inside the apartment. What should she do? Call Ty?

Before she had a chance to decide, she heard footsteps pounding up the wooden staircase, and a brisk knock at the door.

She opened it, and Kendra gave her a breezy smile. “Oh! It’s you.” She knit her brow, searching for the name. “Hi there, Ellen, right?”

“It’s Ellis.”

“Oh, right. So, I’m Kendra, and I guess you remember we met at Fish Food the other night. Kinda awkward, right, bumping into the ex like that?”

Ellis shrugged. “Ty’s not here,” she repeated. “I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”

Kendra’s full red lips pouted. “I’ve been calling and calling, leaving messages. He never returns any of them. That’s why we finally decided to run over here this morning, to see if we can talk to him about Ebbtide. You know, before next month.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Ellis said. “He stays pretty busy. But I can let him know you dropped by.” She gathered up the bundle of laundry and stepped outside onto the deck, locking the door behind her.

Ellis hurried down the stairs. Ryan had gotten out of the Mercedes and was walking around the outside of the garage, leaning down, poking at the boards, walking around inside the garage itself, staring up at the old rafters with the assortment of junk hanging from the beams: rusted lawn chairs, rotting hanks of rope, what looked like an old sail.

“Can I help you?” she called sharply. Fuckface had some nerve wandering around the place like he already owned it.

“Nope,” Ryan said, immune to her tone. “Say, you have any idea how many square feet are in that apartment up there?”

“No,” Ellis said woodenly.

“But it’s got a kitchen, right, like an efficiency? And a bathroom? Is it a full or half bath? We’re trying to figure out if the apartment would work out as income property. It’s hell to get new bathrooms approved, is why I ask, so if there’s an existing full bath up there, that would be awesome.”

“Honey, I think I remember that it’s got a sink and a toilet, with the shower out on the deck,” Kendra called down.

Ellis whirled around. Kendra was not only still on the deck, she was actually peering in the glass insert in the door, her hands cupped to shut out the glare of the sunlight. “The kitchen’s small, but it’s got everything you’d need. We’d want to replace the appliances, and the linoleum would have to go right away too. New cupboards and countertops, of course. It might be worth a trip to IKEA for that stuff.”

“Hey!” Ellis called. “I don’t think Ty would appreciate having you poking around his apartment while he’s gone.”

“Okay,” Kendra said. She came bopping down the stairs and joined her husband, who’d finished inspecting the garage. Ellis noticed that Kendra’s sun visor was the exact same shade of Carolina blue as her sleek sleeveless top and running shorts. And, of course, her Carolina blue running shoes matched everything else she wore, including the scrunchy that held her long blond hair in a ponytail.

“Say, Alice…” Kendra started.

“It’s Ellis. E-L-L-I-S.”

“Right, sorry. Listen, you don’t happen to know who’s renting Ebbtide right now, do you?”

“No,” Ellis lied.

“Hmm,” Kendra said, turning to stare up at the house. A trio of damp bathing suits clipped to the clothesline stretched between the porch posts flapped in the breeze. As she watched, Booker emerged from the house with a camera slung around his neck.

“I really, really need to get a look inside the house, hon,” Kendra told her husband. “Ty’s nana was sweet, but she was really not much of a housekeeper, and God knows, Ty never cared about that kind of stuff. As long as the fish were biting or the surf was up, he didn’t care what the house looked like.”

She pursed her lips, still looking up at the house, thoughtfully. “Window air conditioners. And I’m sure there’s no insulation, or even a furnace. Guess I’m not surprised. I don’t think the Culpeppers ever did winterize the house.” She gave Ellis a sad smile. “Ty’s grandparents were the salt of the earth, but there was never much money there.”

“Roof looks pretty bad too, sweetness,” Ryan added. “We’d have to gut the place.”

Ellis’s stomach twinged at the word “gut.” She wanted to grab the broom she’d recently abandoned and chase these two opportunists down the driveway and off the Ebbtide property. Even though it wasn’t her place, she felt strongly that Ty would approve of such a course of action.

Before she could suggest that Kendra and Fuckface vacate the premises, she was saved by the cheery chirping of Kendra’s cell phone.

“Hi-i-i,” Kendra said, her face brightening. “No, nope. He’s not here. His friend says she doesn’t know where he’s gone, or when he’ll be back. What’s new about that, right? Probably off surfing with some of those lowlife buddies of his.”

Kendra’s caller talked for a while, and she listened intently. “No, we won’t give up. I’ll leave him another message, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll just check back later. I promise you, Daddy, when we hand him a check, he’ll be happy to take it and walk away. Okay? See you at lunch, then.”

She clicked disconnect and pocketed the phone. “So,” she said brightly. “You’ll be sure and tell Ty we came by?”

“As soon as I see him,” Ellis promised.

Kendra turned to her husband. “Daddy wants us to meet them at the club for lunch. That leaves us a couple hours to kill. We could run up to Duck in the meantime. Bailey and Ferris have been pestering me to drop by and see what they’ve done to their place, and then we’d have an excuse to leave.”

Ryan nodded enthusiastically, and without another word to Ellis, they jumped in the Mercedes and sped off.

Ellis watched them go, her fists clenched in rage. She marched herself back to Ebbtide, dumped her load of laundry into the washing machine, spun the dial, and punched the start button.

*   *   *

Late afternoon, and the house was eerily quiet. Booker had insisted on treating all of them, including Madison, who’d tried without success to beg off, to a late lunch at the Beach Grill.

When they were seated at a table overlooking the dunes, Booker gave Julia an ill-concealed wink. She produced a bottle of champagne from her big straw beach tote, and Booker stood up and tapped his water glass with a spoon.

The other diners in the restaurant turned, gave them a look of mild interest, and then turned back to the Braves baseball game they were watching on the big-screen television mounted over the bar.

Booker pulled Julia to her feet, and for the first time any of the girls could remember, Julia was actually blushing.

“I have an announcement to make,” Booker said, wrapping an arm around Julia’s waist and struggling to look serious.

“Yessss!” Ellis squealed.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Dorie squealed in unison.

“Quiet!” Julia demanded. “Have you no sense of decorum?”

The waitress returned to their table, bearing a tray of cloudy, water-spotted champagne glasses and a basket of individually wrapped saltine crackers. “Thank you,” Booker said, dismissing her with a nod.

“Now, as I was saying,” Booker continued. “As you may know, I have been pursuing this flower of southern womanhood, Julia Elizabeth Capelli, for well over a decade. And as you also know, your friend Julia has, thus far, refused—nay, scorned—my entreaties to allow me to make of her an honest woman.”

“Boo!” Dorie booed.

“Hiss,” Ellis hissed. “Get to the good part, would you?”

Julia rolled her eyes. “Now you know what I’ve been dealing with for all these years.”

“Be that as it may,” Booker went on, gesturing grandly. “Last night, under the influence of a full moon, not to mention nearly two bottles of very good French pinot gris, your friend, and my beloved, did me the great honor of agreeing to, at a date to be announced, make me the happiest man on earth. May I introduce to you all my fiancée, the future Mrs. Julia Capelli-hyphen-Calloway.”

With that, Booker grabbed the champagne bottle and popped the cork, and with the champagne spewing over his hands, he clasped Julia and planted a huge, noisy kiss directly on her laughing lips, while Dorie, Ellis, and Madison cheered wildly.

The lunch that followed was the happiest, craziest, loudest meal Ellis could remember attending in recent memory.

Julia had finally, after much baiting and begging, agreed that the wedding would take place sometime in the fall. “Before you get too fat,” she told Dorie, “and he,” she said, turning fondly to Booker, “has time to change his mind and find another girl.”

But Booker had more than one surprise up his sleeve, they soon discovered. When their appetizers arrived, Julia stared down at her plate of calamari, and finally, with a fork, picked up a vinaigrette-drenched ring—platinum, with a band of small diamond chips surrounding an enormous, glittering cushion-cut diamond.

“Booker!” Julia sputtered. “What the hell?”

Booker lifted the ring from the tines of Julia’s fork and slid it, dressing and all, onto her left hand. He kissed the ring, and then Julia’s palm, and finally, her lips.

When she’d recovered from the shock, Julia held her hand up and twisted it back and forth, admiring the glint of sunlight on the diamond. “It’s perfect,” she declared. “If I’d designed it myself, it could not have been more perfect. It looks so much like my grandmother’s engagement ring. How did you know? And where on earth…?”

Instead of answering her, Booker stood, picked up the camera he’d slung over the back of his chair, aimed, and started shooting photos of the group around the table.

“It is your grandmother’s,” he told her.

“But…” Julia sputtered. “Mama left it to my brother Joe.”

“And your sister-in-law decided it was hideously old-fashioned,” Booker said, planting yet another kiss on Julia’s cheek. “I’d e-mailed to ask if there was a piece of family jewelry he might be willing to part with, in the remote event that you would ever agree to get married, and he was only too happy to let me take this off his hands.”

“You!” Julia squealed. She got up, backed him into a chair and then planted herself on his lap, kissing him passionately.

“Get a room,” Dorie called.

After lunch, as the group was filing out of the restaurant, Booker pulled Ellis aside.

“Great news,” he said. “Simon texted me just as we were getting in the car to drive over here. The producers loved the scouting shots. He’s flying in with them first thing Monday to work on lining up the rest of the locations. Have you told Ty about any of this?”

“That’s so great,” Ellis said, trying to refrain from squealing. “I haven’t talked to Ty, he’s been gone all day. But I’ll call him right away and let him know you need to talk to him.”

“Good, because Simon says the whole production schedule’s been sped up. It’s supposed to be top secret, but one of the leading ladies just disclosed that she’s pregnant.”

“I wonder which one,” Ellis said, watching Dorie climb into the driver’s seat of the red van. “Um, Booker, do you have any idea how much the movie people will pay to use the house?”

“Nope,” Booker said. “That’s something Ty will need to negotiate.”

*   *   *

It was close to six when Ellis saw the Bronco pull into the garage. A few minutes later, her phone dinged, announcing the arrival of a text message.

COCKTAILS ON MY VERANDA? MR. CULPEPPER.

She grinned and texted back:

B RITE OVER.

Ellis pulled on a pair of white shorts and a scoop-necked lime green top that made her tan look golden. After slicking on some lip gloss and spritzing on some perfume, she strolled over to the garage apartment.

Ty was just emerging from the shower, a beach towel wrapped around his waist, when she got to the top of the deck stairs.

“Oh,” she said, blushing. “Uh, guess I’m early.”

He laughed at her modesty and pulled her to him. He was still damp from the shower, but she didn’t mind at all that her top and spotless white shorts were getting equally damp.

“There’s some beer and a bottle of white wine in the fridge,” he told her. “And I think I’ve got some chips and salsa, if you’re hungry. I’ll get dressed and be out in a minute.”

Ellis set out the chips and salsa, poured herself a glass of wine, and took it out to the deck. She stood at the rail, looking out at the beach, which was mostly deserted now, with the exception of two adolescent boys riding skimboards at the water’s edge.

She’d noticed the boys earlier in the morning and realized they’d spent the whole day lounging on the beach, playing Frisbee, and now skimboarding. It was probably their last free weekend before school started, Ellis realized, feeling that prickle of sadness again. She couldn’t remember when she’d been so sad to see the end of summer.

Ty was behind her now, his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. “You smell good,” he said, breathing in her scent. “Is that for me?”

“All for you,” she said, turning to return his kiss.

They sat companionably in the teak Adirondack chairs, sipping their drinks and catching up.

“I know you hate swordfish, but how do you feel about grouper?” Ty asked. “A buddy of mine called me early this morning and asked if I wanted to crew on his charter. That’s where I’ve been all day. We caught the hell out of the grouper and snapper.”

“I love grouper,” Ellis said. “Are we having dinner?”

“Thought I’d try to impress you with my culinary skills,” he said. “You’re not one of those girly girls who won’t eat fried fish, are you?”

“Not me,” Ellis said.

He nodded approvingly. “Okay. Fried grouper sandwiches and coleslaw for dinner. You’re in charge of the coleslaw.”

“I can do that,” Ellis said, following him into the kitchen. “But first, I’ve got a proposition for you.”