Nantucket (11 page)

He and Sally were in bed the first night, doing intimacy without sex, at which she was quite proficient. This was several
hours before he'd gone downstairs and found Rosemary in the pantry. Rosemary naked sort of blotted out everything else, but being in bed with Sally was coming back. They'd been lying next to each other, not touching. She'd said she didn't plan to touch him but it was impossible not to wonder if she'd meant it. Cathy hadn't initiated in six weeks. He pretended he didn't know how long it had been, but he did.

After a bit Sally spoke, very softly, which was like being touched unexpectedly. “Did she talk to you in the dark?”

“Cathy?”

“Yes.”

“No,” said Andrew.

“She talked to me,” said Sally.

“Yes.”

“I told you we'd shared a bottle of wine the night we finished getting the house ready.”

“Yes.”

“After dinner she said she wanted to see what I looked like in some of her clothes.”

“That was after she'd told you everything?”

“Everything about you.”

Andrew thought about that for a minute.

“We came up here,” said Sally. “I undressed.”

“As you did for me,” said Andrew.

“Cathy pulled various dresses and blouses out of the closet and I put them on. ‘You're good in that,' she'd say, or ‘wrong colour.'”

“Her clothes fit you well,” said Andrew.

“A bit tight in the bust,” said Sally.

“Cynthia admired your breasts,” said Andrew, remembering the conversation that morning on the porch.

“She was overexcited,” said Sally. “She wanted to touch them. I could tell. I would have let her put sun cream on me but I wasn't sure she could handle it.”

“I suppose you don't want me to touch them either?” said Andrew.

“Oh, I'd like it very much, but it wouldn't be consistent with the master plan.”

“Which is?”

“That's up to you,” said Sally. “I assume you have one, though in my experience most people don't. But isn't the idea here to keep the billionaires happy?”

“And their wives,” said Andrew. “You don't much like Cynthia, do you?”

“Not an issue,” said Sally. “I'm the hostess. I have to be nice. I just get impatient with women who lack self-awareness. But let me finish. Cathy and I went through maybe half a dozen outfits, some necklaces, some rings. ‘Stay with me,' she said finally. Nothing more. So we both put on tee shirts and got under the doona. We turned out the lights and lay side by side, a foot apart, the way you and I are now. Just when I thought she must have gone to sleep, she spoke.”

“Just as you did a few minutes ago,” Andrew had said.

“And it startled me the way my speaking startled you,” Sally had said. “She told me about kissing one of your house guests, last summer.”

“A kiss that started out as a hug,” said Andrew.

“Yes. She told you about it too?”

“Last May,” said Andrew. “The story was part of a discussion that felt like an argument that led to our hiring you. I thought it had to do with the strain of entertaining every weekend, and the prospect of being alone during the week.”

“She asked if she could kiss me,” said Sally.

Andrew said nothing.

“I do that sort of thing,” said Sally. Pause. “Not exclusively.” Pause. “I'm flexible.”

“How useful,” said Andrew.

“That was all,” said Sally. Clearly it wasn't. “Well, almost all. I woke once in the night and discovered that she'd reached towards me in her sleep. Her hand was touching mine.”

“But earlier, had you kissed her?”

“Of course.”

There was a sound in the hall. The memory vanished. Andrew got off the bed and opened the door. It was the Governor of Massachusetts. No Janis. “Ah, Andrew,” he said. “For a minute I thought there was no one home.” He seemed to regard going upstairs in someone else's house as normal behaviour.

“Aren't you supposed to be attending to Lydia, talking to her about her mother or something?” George seemed to be taking over the weekend.

“Well, I would be,” said the Governor. “Come downstairs. I need a beer.”

“Just let me check on a few things,” said Andrew. He walked up and down the hall quietly opening bedroom doors. Judy was in Shiva and Rosemary's room, still asleep. There was no sign of the others.

“I would be comforting Lydia even as we speak,” the Governor repeated as Andrew opened the refrigerator to find a beer. “I would be doing just that if one of those naughty girls I've dumped on you hadn't left clothes in the washing machine.”

“Oh my,” said Andrew.

“Which Lydia found. Which means I need a bed for the
night myself, because she's kicked me out.”

“Sorry,” said Janis, coming in with a copy of
Moby Dick
in her hand. Andrew decided he liked her freckles. “You made us leave in such a rush, I forgot. Apologies for eavesdropping.” She said this to Andrew. “I was on the porch around the corner.”

“Why were you doing laundry at all?” said the Governor, more curious than annoyed, it seemed to Andrew. He doubted George even knew how to run a washing machine.

“You made us leave Boston in a rush too, if you recall, Governor. You called at eight in the morning. I normally do my laundry on the weekends. So I had to pack some dirty clothes.”

“Black lace underpants and bra?” said George.

“Do you want a beer, Janis?” said Andrew. He liked imagining her in black lace.

“No alcohol before six,” she said.

“And no sex after alcohol?” said Andrew, and immediately felt foolish. He wasn't sure why he'd said that. George and Janis ignored him. “You need another one, George?”

“I'm good.”

Cathy's phone rang again. Andrew pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen but didn't answer it. “I suppose I should tell you what's going on,” he said to both of them. “Come sit on the porch.”

“So that woman who introduced herself as Cathy isn't your wife, but you're pretending she is?” said Janis when he had finished outlining the situation. She spoke as if it were an interesting public policy question that would benefit from sound analysis. She seemed to enjoy analysis. Or maybe it was “situations” she enjoyed – and being unfazed by
anything
. Working for the Governor would have given her plenty of situations to practise on.

“Of course, George will realise Sally isn't Cathy as soon as she gets back from the whaling museum,” said Andrew.

“I've known Cathy since she was a little girl,” the Governor explained. “Our parents knew each other. I flattered myself that she had a crush on me when she was fourteen.”

“Every girl in Boston has had a crush on you at some point, George,” said Andrew.

“So you want us to pretend Sally's Cathy too?” said Janis, ignoring the matter of crushes.

“That would be helpful,” said Andrew.

“Who is she?” said the Governor, standing up. He signalled that another beer would be acceptable after all, and the three of them went back into the kitchen.

“Well, I don't really know,” said Andrew. “Cathy hired her as a general helper and companion. Florence and Eleanor are both away this summer. Cathy thought she'd be lonely.”

“Does she look like Cathy?” the Governor asked.

“Little bit. They can wear each other's clothes.
This
Cathy is younger, with darker hair.” He paused. “Bit bustier.”

“And you're sleeping with her?” said Janis.

“Sleeping in the same bed,” said Andrew, “but…”

“Too much information,” said the Governor.

“So will this Cathy know that the Governor knows the real Cathy,” said Janis, “and therefore know she's a fraud?”

“She will if she thinks about it for more than a second,” said Andrew. “I've told them all that George and I are old friends.”

“And that at least is true,” said the Governor.

“So what will this Cathy do?” said Janis.

“We're about to find out,” said Andrew.

Sally came in the door, followed by Rosemary and Joe. As soon as she saw the Governor, whose face every sentient
American adult would recognise, she came straight over and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. George seized the opportunity to pat her on the ass, which made Andrew smile. They'd never met, but they were going to pretend they didn't know that.

“Whaling was ridiculous,” said Rosemary to anyone who would listen.

“Dangerous,” said Joe. “But
immensely
profitable.” He was carrying plastic bags full of steaks and other groceries, which he put on the kitchen counter. “I think we have enough,” he said.

“I think you overdid it,” said Sally, smiling at the big man.

“You'll find I tend to do that,” he said, smiling back.

“I look forward to it,” said Sally.

It felt like they were speaking some sort of code. Rosemary gave Andrew a cautionary look. He didn't know what it meant but he kept silent. “Where's Shiva?” she said.

“I thought he and Cynthia went for a walk,” said Andrew. “But I've been napping…as instructed.”

“He and Cynthia definitely went for a walk,” said Janis. “She was quite insistent. Wanted to show him whatever she and Sally had seen on their run, she said.”

“There wasn't anything to see but sand and sea grass,” said Sally.

And Cynthia's breasts, Andrew said to himself. She was selectively prudish, evidently.

“They didn't invite you?” said Rosemary.

“I didn't want to go,” said Janis. “To be honest, sitting still for an hour suddenly sounded very appealing. And I've been improving myself by reading Melville.” She held up her copy of
Moby Dick
as if to prove it.

Well brought up, Andrew said to himself. Reads the book
her pretentious host puts in all the guest rooms to prove he's educated.

The freckles definitely worked. They allowed her to look old-fashioned and modern at the same time. Or was it wise and innocent? Anyway, it was a winning combination.

Andrew realised he'd been looking at Janis too long. “George will be staying with us too,” he said, addressing Sally.

“It's complicated,” said the Governor, as if in explanation.

“Sleeping arrangements?” said Rosemary quietly.

“We'll have to see,” said Sally. And then in a louder voice, “Sweetheart, we ought to get the water boiling for the lobsters. Maybe Joe can help you.”

“Whatever you ask,” said Joe, smiling at Sally.

There was a low stone and concrete construction behind the house, with a long iron grill on which it would be possible to cook several dozen steaks at once. There was an oversized pot resting upside down at one end. Andrew explained that it was easier and safer to fill the pot with water before they started the fire. “I should probably have a long hose,” he said, “but I don't, so we have to use these jerry cans.” He and Joe began filling the cans from the faucet on the side of the house and pouring the contents into the pot. After a couple of round trips, Joe wanted to check the pot for stability. Then he wanted to be sure that, with the pot already on the grill, air would get to the fire. “I understand fire, being an engineer,” he explained, “and I used to build fires when I was a kid, of course, but these days I don't get much chance to barbeque.” He paused. “Cyn thinks that's un-American.”

“Coming from Texas.”

“I suppose that's the explanation,” said Joe. “She doesn't know shit about barbeques, of course. Her Texas is air-conditioned
. Doesn't like getting her hands dirty. But she thinks I should have one in Greenwich.”

“I don't suppose Shiva and Rosemary know much about barbeques either,” said Andrew, spotting an opening.

Joe was now lying prone on the ground, looking through the holes in the back wall of the construction that would allow air to be drawn in by the fire, once it got going. “Rosemary's crazy,” he said matter-of-factly. “Smart, but crazy. What she knows about I could not predict. But Shiva's tougher than you'd expect. He's not afraid of getting his hands dirty. He's just tired of having to do so. I see how this thing works now. But you have to pull out the charcoal from the last fire.” He came around to the front of the grill and began scraping out the remains of the previous weekend's barbeque. “You should have done this earlier. When it rains, the charcoal gets soaked and then it's messier to deal with. Have you got some old newspapers I can dump it on?” By this point his hands and arms were black and his shirt front was streaked with mud and charcoal.

Andrew went around to the back door that went directly into the pantry and brought back a pile of last weekend's Sunday papers. “I should be doing this,” he said to Joe.

“No sweat,” said his guest. “I
like
getting my hands dirty – in case you haven't figured that out yet.”

“So you and Shiva could get along?” said Andrew. He held his breath as Joe considered his answer.

“As men, yes. He has guts. He has brains. I admire what he's done with the unholy jumble of businesses he got handed when his father died. I just worry about his energy level. I worry about our not being able to make decisions because he's too tired. Or worn out from being sweet and reasonable with his impossible brothers.”

“The walk to the lighthouse?” said Andrew.

“Oh, that. Yeah, he doesn't take any exercise at all, as far as I can figure out. I'm talking about
mental
energy. But we'll see. We haven't talked about strategy yet – what we actually do with this business you want us to jointly own. If we could agree on a general course of action and he could give me authority over tactical moves that might help.”

Andrew's heart sank, but he decided he should wait until he could talk to Rosemary.