Summer House (7 page)

They swept toward Nona in a wave of greetings, kissing, hugging, and, in Zoe’s case, drooling. Behind them strode Kellogg, bags in each hand and one hooked over each shoulder. “Hello, Nona!” he called heartily from behind his flock. “Girls, where do you want the luggage?”

Grace struggled in through the French doors, also laden with bags. She blew Nona a kiss. “Mother! You look lovely! Does it matter where we sleep?”

“Not at all. Charlotte’s in the attic, you know.”

“I’ll take another attic bedroom, then,” Mee declared. “We spinsters can have our own floor.”

“Can’t be a spinster if you’ve been married,” Mandy corrected. “It’s too bad Charlotte’s taken up the attic. The playroom’s up there. It would be much easier if
we
could have the attic bedrooms.”

“Don’t be silly, Mandy,” Mee retorted. “The attic bedrooms only have single beds.”

“Well,
I
don’t want an attic bedroom,” Mellie pouted, rubbing her round belly. “It’s going to be hard enough for me to climb stairs as it is.”

“I’ll take an attic bedroom,” Mellie’s husband, Douglas, said. “Maybe I’ll be able to get some sleep without being bounced about by a great white wh—” He was skewered by his wife’s glance. “Sorry, Mellie.”

“Why don’t you and Claus take the front bedroom,” Grace suggested to her oldest daughter. “The children can go in the old sewing room, and Daddy and I will stay in the room across the hall so we can help with the children.”

“Is the crib still set up in the old sewing room?” Claus asked. “Christian, you’re getting heavy, Papa’s going to put you down.”

“These
bags
are what’s getting heavy!” Kellogg announced. “I’m taking them up to the second floor. You can sort them out up there.”

Bulging and joining and separating like some kind of amoeba shown on a Nature Channel special, the dynamic mass of Grace’s family made their way from the living room into the large hall and up the front stairs. Interesting, Nona thought, that Charlotte hadn’t come in from the garden, rushing into the room to hug her cousins and aunt and uncle. Well, Charlotte was serious about her work, and although she had to have seen the vehicles arrive, driving over the sandy path from the main road, she might have only waved and then returned to her weeding or watering or whatever she was doing. The years when they would have hurried to greet one another, all of them squealing like piglets, had passed.

Mandy fluttered into the room. “Do you think you could hold the baby for just a minute? I’ll be right back with her diaper bag and her bouncy chair. There’s so much paraphernalia required for a baby”
She plunked the baby down in Nona’s arms and hurried out to the garden and through the hedge to her SUV.

Nona gazed down at her great-granddaughter. Zoe’s skin had the smooth iridescence of the inside of a shell. She remembered this luminous skin from her own babies. Zoe was awake and looking around, puckering her mouth as if she were about to pronounce judgment on what she saw. When her eyes fastened on Nona’s, she smiled a toothless baby smile.

“You darling,” Nona whispered, stroking the baby’s soft face with her gnarled, wrinkled old witch’s finger. She remembered this, too, from when her grandchildren were babies, how infants could somehow see past the disfigurements of age to the love within.

Claus entered the room. Tall, thin, Scandinavian, he gave off the nervous energy of a purebred borzoi. “I was going to ask you to look after Christian, but I see Mandy got to you first. I need to bring in the co-sleeper for Zoe.” He looked hopelessly burdened.

Kellogg appeared. “I’ll bring in the co-sleeper. Which room did you take? Come on, Christian, let Grandpop give you a ride.” He swept the four-year-old up onto his shoulders. “Nona, we’re going through the mudroom, okay? It’s closer to the cars.”

Mellie waddled in and collapsed in a nearby wing chair. “I have the worst heartburn! I never dreamed pregnancy could be such a torment!”

“We have baking soda in the kitchen,” Nona told her. “Mix some with a glass of water. It works wonders.”

“Baking soda! Nona, you just have
no idea
the ferocity of this heartburn! Baking soda wouldn’t touch it. I’ve tried every over-the-counter medication there is; I
live
on Rolaids and Tums.” Her husband passed through the hallway, lugging duffel bags. Spotting him, Mellie said loudly, “I just wish Dougie had to experience some of what I’m going through. I just wish he could experience it for
one day.
”

“Mmm,” Nona agreed vaguely. “Mother Nature always was unfair.”

Grace came in, wiping her hands on an embroidered kitchen hand towel that Nona’s mother-in-law had once used. “Glorious and I are
making several gallons of iced tea. We’re all so thirsty. I assume no one wants a real drink, not until evening, right?”

Claus, wrestling two bulging duffel bags into the hall, stopped at the bottom step. “No alcohol for me. I want to play tennis this afternoon.”

Behind him, Kellogg was struggling with the co-sleeper. “Yes, and I want to get the boat into the water.”

The two men toiled up the stairs with their heavy burdens.

“Okay, iced tea it is,” Grace told them, and went off.

I could use an alcoholic beverage
, Nona thought but did not say. So many people needing so many things.

It was different with Charlotte. She was just one person, and she cared about Nona’s pleasure. Nona had found Charlotte good company over the past three years, while Charlotte lived in the attic and worked in her garden. Charlotte always made time to stop and chat with Nona, and she made the long winter months deliciously cozy, building a roaring fire, making cocoa from scratch, playing backgammon or cards with Nona. Also she had discovered a trove of brilliant British films on DVDs at the local library, and Friday nights had become their “date night,” when they sat together in the den, watching movies and eating a delicious and completely disreputable meal of pizza and ice cream. All that played havoc with Nona’s bowels the next day, but it was too delightful an occasion to give up.

Other than that, Charlotte did not really impinge on Nona’s sensibilities. If she played music, she did so either on her headphones while she worked in the garden or up in the attic, from where the sound did not travel. Charlotte also had her computer up there, and a television of her own, so she did not interrupt Nona’s routine.

Glorious had a large room on the far side of the kitchen, fitted out with a big new TV and a small sofa as well as a comfortable bed and private bath. Glorious had many friends in town and loved to socialize—needed to, Nona imagined, after a day spent dealing with an old bat like herself. Glorious didn’t complain about helping Nona. She was relaxed and seemed actually happy about everything. Still, Nona felt guilty about keeping Glorious later than six o’clock. It made a long day for Glorious, and of course Nona paid her well, but still she hated to be a bother. Nona never liked being a bother.

So even before Charlotte had come to live in the house, Nona had hit upon a routine that satisfied her. She simply retired at six o’clock. She brushed her long white hair, braided it, and tied the braid with a plaid grosgrain ribbon. She cleaned her teeth, set her bridge into a glass of denture cleaner, and washed and creamed her face. She slipped into one of her flannel nightgowns and settled into bed, resting in the clever chair pillow Glorious had given her one Christmas. Its back was soft and plump and Nona could rest her tired arms on the arms of the pillow. That done, Glorious would settle the bed tray over Nona’s lap, and on the tray was Glorious’s latest splendid culinary effort for Nona’s dinner. Also, a glass of red wine. Also, the remote control. Glorious would kiss Nona on the forehead and hurry downstairs. Soon a friend would come by for her in a rackety old car and Glorious would go giggling out the front door into the evening. Nona would eat, watch the news, and shout her opinions at the overly groomed newscasters, and sometimes she watched her favorite television shows:
As Time Goes By. Keeping Up Appearances. Masterpiece Theater.
Often, she read. And more and more often, she dozed. She seldom slept for more than four hours straight anymore. She was amazed at what sorts of things one could see on the television at three in the morning.

When Charlotte moved in, she made it clear she didn’t want to alter Nona’s routine. Of course Nona could hear Charlotte rattling around the big old house, preparing herself a meal—the aromas drifting temptingly up the stairs—or talking on her cell phone, or leaving the house and returning later after a movie or a meal with a friend. Nona enjoyed those signs of life. Somehow they had tacitly agreed that Charlotte would greet her grandmother in the morning but not at night. It had to do, Nona thought, with the fact that she didn’t like her family to see her without all her teeth.

It was not just vanity. It was also about dignity and, more than that, about power.

Every summer of her life since she was twenty-three, Nona had spent in this house surrounded by family. The summers had been splendid when she was young. When she had energy. She’d run the house, raised her children, and found time to go sailing or play a
game of tennis. She’d orchestrated birthday parties, Fourth of July celebrations, clambakes for seventy.

But not until five years ago, when Herb died, had she been responsible for Family Meeting.

No one could ever call Nona self-effacing. But there truly was a generational difference in the way wives responded to their husbands. When Nona was a bride, women were more submissive. That was simply the way the world was. Nona wasn’t responsible for that and she would not accept any kind of guilt. In turn, she did not try to judge or condemn her daughter-in-law Helen for Helen’s attitude toward Worth. In fact, she admired Helen and thought Helen handled Worth pretty well. Worth was a lot to handle. He was the most handsome of Herb and Nona’s children, and the one who shouldered the inheritance of the bank. Of the three children, he was the achiever, bright, charming, ambitious, and political.

Worth and his younger brother, Bobby, had always fought—there were only two years between them. Perhaps Bobby would have been more rebellious or perhaps he would have straightened out. No one would ever know. Bobby had been killed in Vietnam in 1970.

One thing Nona was certain of, although she never had spoken of this with anyone, was that Worth’s sense of family responsibility increased the moment he heard of his brother’s death. It was understandable. Herb himself had changed when his second son died. He became driven. He spent less time at home and more time at the bank. It was as if the bank suddenly took Bobby’s place, and he needed to see it prosper and grow as if it were a living creature.

True, the bank was one of the oldest institutions in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, founded in 1878 by Herb’s great-grandfather, and in a way it did seem part of the family. Once simply named The Fourth Bank of Boston, over the years it had changed names and added officers and shareholders. Now Worth, Kellogg, and Lew Lowry were in charge. Lew’s son Whit, who was Charlotte’s age, worked at the bank, and Nona knew that Worth wanted Charlotte to date him.

Nona still owned shares in the bank, but she had little power there and didn’t care to have more. She did have control of the Wheelwright
personal monies and trusts, and she ran Family Meeting in Herb’s place. It had been subtly suggested to her that Family Meeting was too much of a burden for a woman of her age, but she had no intention of letting go of the reins just yet.

The truth was, she was worried about Worth. She felt a need to keep her eye on him. Something wasn’t quite right. It was not just the fancy of an old lady, either. She was clear-sighted enough to see how Worth put pressure on his children. Well, on two of his children. He demanded the most of Charlotte, because Charlotte was the child who most adored her father. Charlotte had tried working at the bank and had disappointed Worth when, after three years, she told him it was not for her. Worth wanted his second son, Teddy, to quit his rogue ways and stop drinking so much. Well, everyone wanted Teddy to stop drinking so much. But Worth’s methods and manners of relating to his two younger children had changed. Worth could be so persuasive when he tried. He was handsome, charming, energetic, humorous—but this past year he had become a bit of a tyrant, which only turned his children more definitely against him. Even Charlotte, who worshipped her father, had begun to argue with him. The sound of their raised voices was not pleasant, nor was it in any way effective.

It was not just Teddy that was worrying Worth. Nona wondered if perhaps Helen was having an affair. So often sex was at the root of an upheaval. Worth and Helen had just turned sixty, a dangerous age. Helen was hardly a siren, but in her own untidy way she was attractive. Perhaps she was sleeping with another man; that could explain Worth’s disposition. Nona cared for her daughter-in-law, but she did think Helen was a dark horse. Helen had never allowed herself to become a true part of the Wheelwright family. She had been and continued to be a good mother, though, and Nona thought her children were still her top priority. Perhaps it was only the burden of Teddy and his difficulties that was weighing Worth down.

Oh, daughter Grace and her contingent were surely noisy and chaotic, but it was the thought of Worth’s arrival that made her feel so tired. Was this because she loved her son just a little bit more?

Five

H
elen felt scattered
as she settled into the limo. Worth, next to her, touched her hand. “Fasten your seat belt.”

She did, hoping he wouldn’t notice how her hands were shaking.

He didn’t.

Lounging back in the buttery-soft cushioned leather of the limo, Worth talked on his cell phone with colleagues and assistants about bank business or tapped on his laptop computer.

In self-defense, Helen opened her own laptop and tapped away too, making lists and memos for her various committees. Amazing, she thought, how her stifled emotions supplied a geyser of energy. Interesting, how all the modern technological gadgets designed to bring us closer together really provided a polite means for people to ignore one another.