Summer Beach Reads 5-Book Bundle: Beachcombers, Heat Wave, Moon Shell Beach, Summer House, Summer Breeze (201 page)

“Ben’s parents have a yellow Lab,” she told her mother.

“Good dogs.”

“And a cat named Bossy.”

“Cats.”
Marlene sniffed dismissively.

The doorbell rang and everyone arrived: Bella and Aaron, Morgan and Josh, Louise and Dennis, and best of all, Ben. They settled on the deck, where Natalie had set up two tables with plates and utensils. Conversation flowed naturally. People leaned against the railing, chatting, complaining about the heat, waving at boaters who sailed past on the lake.

Eleanor’s tables were round, impossible to push together. Natalie had actually considered putting out place cards at the tables because she wanted her mother to sit near one of the Barnabys, so she could get to know the family. But place cards would just be weird, she decided. When the salmon was ready and people drifted naturally into chairs, she was relieved to see that Ben sat on one side of Marlene, Louise on the other, and Dennis across from Marlene. Natalie sat at a table with Bella, Aaron, Morgan, and Josh.

At first the conversation centered on the Red Sox, who were doing well this year. Natalie had tried for a while to work up the interest to support the Yankees in their feud against the Red Sox, if only for the sake of a good-natured argument, but in fact she didn’t really care about baseball, and as usual, she found herself talking with Bella about which of the new players had the best body. Of course, no one, new or old, could replace Jacoby Ellsbury for sheer gorgeousness and charisma.

From time to time, Natalie leaned back in her chair to listen to the other table. How was her mother doing?

“… bulldogs are always described as ‘walking muscle,’ ” Marlene was saying.

“Mother,” Natalie called over. “How long have you been talking about your dogs?”

The rest of the table shushed Natalie.

“I’m fascinated,” Dennis assured her.

“Especially since our dog is waddling blubber,” Louise added, laughing.

So it was good, Natalie thought. They were all getting along.
The in-laws
.

Later in the evening, as Natalie went in to prepare the desserts, the others got up and moved around, some bringing in dishes, her mother leaning on the railing, talking with Ben and Morgan.

Bella and Aaron helped Natalie carry out the shortcakes. Everyone exclaimed in delight except for Morgan and Marlene, who were too engrossed in conversation to notice. They sat together at a table, leaning toward each other as Morgan described, in much the same tones Marlene used to talk about her dogs, an autoclave.

“Autoclaves are steam sterilizers used for high-level disinfection,” Morgan was saying.

“Like a pressure cooker?” Marlene asked. “My mother had one of those for canning.”

“Exactly. We can use them to sterilize lab equipment for reuse and waste materials, anything infectious or with blood—”

Natalie plunked Morgan’s plate down in front her, saying with sweet sarcasm, “I’ve always thought a dinner party on the lake was the perfect time to discuss lab equipment for waste materials.”

“Well, darling,” Marlene told her daughter, “I need to learn about autoclaves. I’d love to be able to afford one big enough to do the dogs’ bedding.”

Natalie laughed. “Well, then, ladies, enjoy your conversation.”

In spite of Natalie’s citronella candles, by the time they finished dessert, the bugs were beginning to appear, so the group carried plates into the kitchen and settled in the living room for coffee. This time, Ben sat on the sofa, and after Natalie had finished setting out the sugar bowl and milk pitcher on the coffee table, he patted the spot next to him. She snuggled up to him happily.

Bella was on the opposite sofa, snuggled up to Aaron. She looked older somehow. Perhaps it was the new hairdo, pulled back in a knot.

“While we’re all here,” Bella said, “we’ve got an announcement to make.” She paused for effect, then, with a smug look, turned to Aaron. “I’m moving to San Francisco with Aaron. I’m going to enroll in art and furniture history courses this fall.”

“Bella!” Morgan looked stricken. “You’re moving away? I thought you loved it here.”

“I do. We’ll come back often to see everyone. Besides, Morgan, you told us you and Josh have to sell your house and get something smaller, not on the lake.”

“True,” Josh said. He and Morgan had settled on cushions on the floor, leaning against the wall. “Besides, Morgan will be working all the time.”

“And so will you.” Morgan nudged her husband playfully.

A noise sounded in the driveway. A vehicle arriving. Not a motorcycle, but perhaps a van. A moment later, a knock sounded on the door, and before Natalie could rise, Slade walked in.

He wore khakis and a white button-down shirt, and he was not alone. A woman was with him, a rather stern-looking young woman wearing a business suit.

“Slade!” Marlene cried.

“Hey, Mom.” Sauntering over, he leaned down to kiss his mother and give her a quick hug. Straightening, he looked around the room. “Hey, everyone.” He returned to the woman and put his arm around her shoulder. “I’d like you to meet Dina Hannoush.”

Dina nodded politely. She could be pretty if she didn’t look quite so judgmental. Glasses hid her green eyes.

“Dina’s father sells Turkish rugs,” Slade informed them. “That’s
how I got to know her. We recently connected and decided to start our own shop together.” His smile at Dina indicated something more than professional interest.

Slade went around the room, introducing everyone, keeping a possessive hand on her arm.

Natalie said, “Slade, Dina, would you like some coffee? Or anything to eat?”

“Coffee would be lovely,” Dina said. When she spoke, she became softer. Her voice was deep and melodious, hinting at a gentler self within her severe shell. “Can I help you?”

Natalie rose from the sofa. “No, it will just take me a moment.” She went into the kitchen.

Slade said, “I’ll grab a couple of chairs from the dining room.”

Natalie found two more cups and saucers, poured the coffee, and carried them back toward the living room. Slade had a dining room chair in his hand and waited for her to go first. As Natalie passed her brother, she arched an eyebrow. Slade answered her with a nod that, surprisingly, held no mischief. Why, Slade looked
happy
.

Slade set the chairs in the group, and Dina sat down. Slade sat next to her. Natalie handed them each a cup of coffee.

“Nat told me Mom was coming for a visit, so I thought I’d better get out here and see her,” Slade told them. “And I wanted you all to meet Dina.”

“Slade,” Marlene said, “I’m so glad you came. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see both my children in the same room again.”

Natalie looked at her mother while she was answering a question of Slade’s about, of course, her bulldogs. Marlene glowed as she talked, and Natalie realized with a leap of her heart that the next charcoal she would draw would be of her mother.

On my desk I keep a note I scribbled while talking to my son, Josh. It says: “Quantum theory means that nothing exists by itself.”

That’s certainly true of a writer working on a novel. Many people inspired and helped me from the first glimmer of an idea to the last punctuation mark of
Summer Breeze
. I’m at a loss for words to express my gratitude to them all.

My brilliant son-in-law David Gillum, associate director of Biosafety and Biosecurity at Arizona State University, is kind enough to talk with me about his significant scientific work as if I could understand what he’s saying. Our talks kick-started this book.

His partner, my son, Josh (also brilliant, and that’s not just my opinion), continually takes the time to discuss things as grand as quantum physics and as small as whether I’ve been hitting the right key on my computer keyboard when the damned thing won’t work.

Susan McGinniss, Laura Gallagher Byrne, Donald Dallaire, Pamela Pindell, and Deborah Beale keep breaking my heart open with their transcendent artistic talents. Their gifts fuel my writing and my life.

Samantha Wilde (the novelist and, by the way, my daughter) is always on-target when we discuss plots and punctuation while at the same time she and her husband, Neil Forbes, are tending Ellias and Adeline and Emmett, my grandchildren (who are, by the way, her children).

Charlotte Kastner, Jill Hunter Burrill, Martha Foshee, and Laura Simon make even my grayest days sparkle.

Jude Deveraux, you are an angel sent from heaven. Please never go away.

Meg Ruley, thank you for being a magnificent agent as well as my friend. Thanks also to Peggy Gordijn and the crew at the Jane Rotrosen Agency.

Behind the scenes are the magicians at Ballantine who made this book happen: Libby McGuire, Gina Centrello, Kate Collins, Gina Wachtel, Melissa Possick, Kim Hovey, Quinne Rogers, Alison Masciovecchio, and Penelope Haynes. Junessa Viloria is so efficient and witty, she keeps me almost sane. Sue Cohen is a brilliant copy-editor. Dana Isaacson once again added his wise touches to this book. Thank you all.

My editor, Linda Marrow, as always, is pure blazing gold.

And Charley, you
know
.

N
ANCY
T
HAYER
is the
New York Times
bestselling author of
Heat Wave
,
Beachcombers
,
Summer House
,
Moon Shell Beach
,
The Hot Flash Club
,
The Hot Flash Club Strikes Again
,
Hot Flash Holidays
, and
The Hot Flash Club Chills Out
. She lives in Nantucket.