The Hot Flash Club Chills Out (15 page)

He raised an eyebrow. “Have you?”

“Yes, and I want to go see the Quaker meeting house, later on in the summer, when I have more time. There’s so much to see and do here.”

He set the car in motion again. “True. Though most tourists stick to the beaches.”

Shirley studied his profile. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t approve of ‘most tourists’?”

“Because most tourists litter the beaches and trample endangered vegetation. They drive monster SUVs and destroy the environment.” He flashed a grin her way. “I’ve become an obstreperous crab in my old age.”

“You’re not so old,” Shirley told him. Neither was she, she thought, with her heart going wild in her chest. Harry’s sideways smile had kick-started a little engine in her torso. Her body was flooding her with a wonderfully pleasant sensation. Her cheeks tingled, and so did—oh my gosh!—her belly, way down low. She looked out the window, letting the breeze cool her burning skin.

Harry steered the car over a grassy track and onto another dirt road that plunged downhill past a small pond. A short distance on, he pulled off the road and turned off the engine. “Let me show you something few people see.”

Shirley hopped down from the truck and followed Harry and Reggie. Through a gap in tall bushes, she saw a round blue pond, its waters shimmering beneath the sun.

“We call this the doughnut pond,” he told her, pointing to the small island in the middle.

Shirley surveyed the area. The pond was ringed with grasses, shrubs, and trees. “Over there!” she whispered excitedly. “What is it?”

Harry smiled. “White heron.”

“Oh, she’s so pretty! Like a painting.”

Harry looked down at her. Shirley could feel him studying her face. She felt a warmth emanating from him that was setting the tingling in her body to a full boil.

“You really like it out here,” Harry remarked.

Shirley moved away from him, pretending interest in the pale green grasses, striped, threaded, and wound with darker plants and vines. It was either move away, or jump the guy. “Do I? I guess so,” Shirley responded honestly. “I’ve never spent much time in the country. I run a wellness spa, The Haven, about thirty miles outside Boston. My condo’s there, too. We do have a large grounds with space for badminton and croquet and a woods with a walking path. Still, it’s all part of, well,
civilization.
” She sat down on a hillock of tough moss, linked her arms around her knees, and stared out at the water. “Just think, all this is here, all the time, while we go on with our busy lives.”

Harry sat down next to her, not too close, but not too far away. Reggie went sniffing off into the high grass ringing the pond. A large bird flew overhead.

“Hawk,” Harry told her.

“Wow.”

“Yes, this place is a real bird sanctuary.”

“And other animals, too?” Shirley pointed to a set of tracks in the sand near the water.

“Deer come here to drink. Yes, we’ve sure got deer. Too many of them. And rabbits.”

“Oh, I love rabbits. I hope I see some.”

Harry laughed. “You won’t be able to miss them.” He pointed to a long-stemmed plant with a tiny blue flower. “Blue-eyed grass.”

Shirley laughed. “What a great name. As if the grass can see.”

“Not necessarily. I mean, we say the ‘eye’ of the storm. Meaning the center of something.”

Shirley sat in silence for a while. “I think…” she said musingly, “…I think I ought to come out here by myself now and then. And maybe my friends should, too. I mean, it seems to me that nature like this”—she waved her hands around—“without any sign or evidence of humans, is like a kind of halfway house between life and death. What we construe as death. I mean, there’s life, but not
human
life. You can hear the birds rustling, and sort of sense the, well, the
alertness
of the plants, and so you think, hey, it’s really okay, it’s different, the natural world, but still so
vivid,
and it will be okay when you die and leave your human body, because there’s all this to get to be part of.”

Harry didn’t reply, but Shirley could feel his eyes on her.

She looked at him. “I know. I’m so weird. I’m sorry.”

“No,” he protested. “Please don’t apologize. I like what you said. It was interesting. I’m just thinking about it.” He reached over, putting his warm hand on her wrist. “I think you’ve articulated something I’ve often felt.”

His touch made something inside Shirley melt. Their eyes met and held. Gosh, he was good-looking. Shirley felt her lips part. Harry seemed poised—was he going to
kiss
her?

An explosion of noise made them turn. The golden Lab came bounding out of the pond, her coat wet and slimy with weeds, a filthy stick in her mouth. With an expression of great pride, she presented it to Shirley.

Shirley laughed, stood up, and threw the stick for the dog, who plunged happily back into the water. They played the game about a dozen times.

Harry finally stopped them. “Come on, Regina, you spoiled old thing. Let’s go.”

The dog obviously understood. She lunged through the grass to the truck, pausing to shake the water from her coat.

“Have you seen ’Sconset yet?” Harry asked as they settled in the truck.

“Not yet,” Shirley told him. “I’d like to. I’ve seen pictures of the lighthouse and those little fishermen’s cottages.”

“Let me take you out there someday,” Harry said.

“I’d like that,” Shirley said.

She noticed, as they drove back into town, how Harry stopped to let other vehicles turn out onto the street. “You’re a polite driver,” she told him.

“We’ve all got to be, in the summer. It gets so crowded. If we aren’t courteous, we get all riled up over something that in the scheme of things is absolutely infinitesimal.”

Shirley smiled. She liked that he used the word
courteous.

“Now where are you living, exactly?”

When she told him the address on Orange Street, he gave a little snort of surprise. “You’re staying at Nora Salter’s house?”

“I used to be her masseuse in Boston. We became friends, and she’s one of the investors in The Haven.” She glanced at him. “And you know her?”

Harry pulled his truck up onto the sidewalk in front of the house. “Oh, yeah. Used to come to her house, back when I was on the cocktail party circuit. Never saw a place crammed with so much stuff.” He jumped out of the truck, unlatched the tailgate, and lifted her bike down to the ground.

Shirley took hold of the handlebars. “Harry, thank you so much for taking me through the moors. I loved it.”

“My pleasure.”

For a moment, they just stood there, smiling at each other.

“I’ll call you.” Harry dipped his head in a kind of salute, then jumped back in his old red truck and rattled away, leaving Shirley so giddy she had to restrain herself from hugging her bike.

24

O
n the last Thursday in June, it was finally warm enough on the island to cast off sweaters and long pants. Shirley, in a swirly summer dress, and Alice, chic in a black linen shift, strolled along Straight Wharf, idly gazing at the sleek yachts and pleasure boats docked in the harbor. The day was warm, bright, and mild, the water a dazzling blue.

“There they are!” Shirley cried, pointing to the Hy-Line catamaran as it rounded Brant Point. “Oh, I just love these boat trips. It makes everything so celebratory!”

As the ferry glided near, people on the upper deck waved. Alice and Shirley waved back. The boat drew to a stop. The deckhands set the ramp in place and the passengers filed down to the cobblestoned dock. Alice and Shirley hurried to greet their friends. They all hugged and talked at once as Polly and Faye grabbed their luggage off the blue luggage trolleys. Marilyn had only a small canvas purse; she was just here for the day. She’d driven Faye and Polly down, left her car in a Hyannis lot, and would drive Alice and Shirley home.

“We’re having lunch at the Ropewalk.” Alice led them over the bricks to the restaurant at the water’s edge. “That way Marilyn, Shirley, and I will be right here to catch the boat back.”

The host met them on the patio. “Inside or out, ladies?”

“Inside, please, but could we have a table by the water?” Shirley requested sweetly.

“Absolutely.” He led them into a large room with a bar along an inner wall and tables on the far side, overlooking the docks where smaller craft bobbed gently in their berths. Gulls swooped overhead, and a pair of mallards paddled idly near the pier, waiting for a bit of bread to drop. A beautiful young couple in bathing suits sunbathed on the deck of their polished teak sailboat. Farther out, a fabulous private yacht slid majestically into the harbor.

“This is too blissful,” Faye said, looking around with a sigh. “I’m going to go wild and order a drink.”

“We make dynamite strawberry daiquiris,” the waiter informed her with a wink.

“Fabulous!” Faye clapped her hands together. “
So
healthy!”

Everyone else ordered one, too, except Shirley, who asked for a cranberry juice with lots of ice.

“Now,” Alice said, “tell me. How’s life in the real world?”

Marilyn, Polly, and Faye exchanged glances.

“We talked nonstop on the ride down,” Marilyn informed Alice and Shirley. “We still haven’t solved our problems.”

Polly had dark circles beneath her eyes. Quietly, she said, “And isn’t there a rule that we can’t worry when we’re on Nantucket? Because if there is, I’ve got nothing to talk about.”

“Okay, okay, rule rescinded,” Alice said quickly. She put a hand on Polly’s arm. “What happened?”

Polly’s eyes filled with tears. “Roy Orbison died.” She covered her face with her hands. “Sorry. Sorry. Don’t mean to be so emotional.”

Faye patted Polly’s shoulder. “Polly loved that old dog so much. Plus, he was sort of the last tie she had with Tucker.”

“And to add insult to injury,” Marilyn added, “Hugh came over to be with Polly when the dog died, but then Carol phoned him and he went off to help her deal with a rat or a bat or something.”

The waiter brought their drinks, tall, frosty glasses filled with frothy pink liquid, topped with a dollop of whipped cream and a strawberry. Shirley’s cranberry juice was adorned with an orange slice. They toasted and, instead of taking dainty sips, pretty much slammed back their drinks.

Polly played with her straw, stirring it in the pink drink. “Well, he did come back…”

Faye shook her head angrily. “Yeah,
three hours later.
Polly had phoned me, and I drove over to be with her. We wrapped Roy’s body in one of Polly’s homemade quilts.”

“And I phoned my son.” Polly sniffed. “David drove over to see him. He was sad, too. He put Roy’s body in his truck and told me he’d bury him on his farm. I didn’t especially want Roy out there, since my daughter-in-law makes me feel about as welcome as the chicken pox, but David had always loved Roy so much. I guess Roy’s spirit would be as happy to be there as anywhere.”

“You’ve had to deal with so much death in the past few years,” Shirley said sympathetically. “Your husband. Your mother-in-law. Now your beloved dog.”

Polly nodded, letting the tears spill down her face. “That’s true. But you know, it’s all part of the cycle of life. I understand that. I accept that. It wouldn’t be so bad if I felt like I was
somehow
part of the future. I mean, it’s nice to know I have a grandson, but Amy keeps him sequestered out there on the farm. I’m not really part of the little boy’s life. I’m not part of my son’s life, either. You’re so lucky, Alice, and you are too, Marilyn, because you’ve got grandchildren who live close to you, whom you get to see whenever you want.”

“But my grandchildren live in San Francisco,” Faye reminded her.

“And I don’t have children or grandchildren,” Shirley said.

“Well, you have a boyfriend,” Polly told Faye. “And Shirley, you do, too.”

Shirley made a face. “I don’t think I’d call Stan a boyfriend.” She snorted. “Believe, me, he’s certainly no antidote to the thought of death.”

“Stan’s honest, reliable, and trustworthy,” Alice told Shirley.

“So was Roy Orbison,” Shirley shot back.

“Maybe you should get a new dog,” Faye suggested to Polly.

“Maybe I should,” Polly agreed.

“Maybe,” Shirley joked, “
I
should!”

The waiter came, took their orders, and went off.

“Because,” Polly continued, “I’m going to end it with Hugh.”

“Oh, Polly,” Shirley cried. “Are you sure?”

Polly nodded. “It’s just too insulting, the way he leaves whenever his ex-wife calls. I’ll never be part of his complete life. I can’t share a future with him. I haven’t even met his grandchildren, and he dotes on them, goes to their recitals and games. I’m treated like a mistress, even though he’s no longer married.”

“Well, now, hang on.” Faye folded her arms on the table. “Think about it, Polly. What’s so wrong with being a mistress? What’s so wrong with just having fun with him? Because you do have a wonderful time with him.”

“True,” Polly conceded.

“We’re all older now, and we should be able to define our relationships differently from how we did when we were young and wanted to have homes and children and all those complications. Perhaps you could just have fun with each other.”

“Yeah!” Shirley liked that idea. “Stay in a kind of perpetual state of romance! Like you’re always dating. So you don’t have to argue about utility bills or who should put gas in the car.”

Polly shook her head. “That seems so
incomplete.
I want the whole thing, the ‘for better or worse’ bit.”

“Think about that seriously,” Faye warned. “I can tell you, I’m not so sure I like the ‘in sickness and in health’ part at our age.”

Alice turned to Faye. “How
is
Aubrey?”

“Driving me out of my mind.” Faye tossed back the rest of her drink. “He
loves
being an invalid. I swear, I sometimes think he is truly regressing mentally. They say people become childish when they grow older, but Aubrey’s only in his early seventies. He wants to be waited on hand and foot, and he needs constant coddling, and the part of being with him that I loved has just vanished into thin air! He’s not charming, he’s not interesting, he doesn’t care how I feel. It’s completely about taking care of him. And it’s not like he’s got a terminal illness! He’s just got a wonky shoulder!”

Sentimental Shirley asked, “But what if he were Jack?”

“If he were Jack,” Faye said, “we would have already gone through scores of years of give and take. Jack would have taken care of me, and I would have taken care of him. Besides, Jack would never have been such a
baby.
”

“But we’re all older now,” Alice pointed out sensibly. “We’re sliding out of our ‘Golden Years’ into our ‘Rusty Years.’ Maybe in another year, Aubrey will be taking care of you.”

“Yeah,” Shirley agreed, nodding her head. “Remember, Aubrey was pretty sweet to you when you were down with your ankle and neck over Christmas.”

“Not
this
sweet,” Faye argued. “He came over a lot, brought me flowers and food, but
I’m
fixing all his meals, running all his errands, adjusting his pillows, I’m his constant nursemaid. And I
know
I
thanked
Aubrey when I was down. He’s gotten so petulant and cranky, he never thanks me. He just gets irritated if I don’t read his mind and bring him his ice pack the moment he wants it.”

“Women are more nurturing by nature.” Shirley looked uncomfortable. “I know that’s not a feminist position to take, but I think it’s true.”

“Fine,” Faye said. “But believe me, I’ve done more than my share of nurturing this guy.”

Alice looked thoughtful. “It’s not like he’s going to be down with his shoulder forever, Faye.”

“No,” Faye agreed. “Only over this summer, when I want to be here, landscape painting.” She looked around the table. “Come on, if I were a man, no one would expect me to give up a chance to start painting seriously again in order to stay home taking care of Aubrey. I mean, he’s not even really sick. If he were, then I do care about him enough to nurture him. But he’s not seriously ill. And I’m seriously
excited
about getting back into my work! And I am getting older, I don’t have that much time left.”

The waiter brought their lunches. They all tucked in with delight. After a few bites, Faye’s mood lightened.

“So Alice, tell me, how was your week here?”

Alice shot a triumphant look at Shirley. “It’s been great! Shirley has kept me on an exercise plan, and I haven’t weighed myself, but my pants are just a tad bit looser.”

“And we’ve gone to some fun plays and concerts,” Shirley chimed in.

“And I’ve done a bit of shopping for my granddaughter,” Alice added. “I can’t wait to see her. And Gideon, too.”

Faye looked at Shirley. “What about Stan? Are you looking forward to seeing him again?”

Shirley yawned.

“Now, Shirley,” Alice interrupted. “Stan’s a good man.”

“Yeah, but life with him would be like one long dental appointment,” Shirley shot back. “Might be good for me, but it sure wouldn’t be fun.”

“Maybe you’ll meet a man on Nantucket!” Polly suggested.

A waitress passing by overheard. “You know what they say about meeting a man on this island? The odds are good, but the goods are odd.”

The Hot Flash Club laughed. Shirley laughed the loudest. She couldn’t stop thinking of Harry, but she wasn’t ready to tell her friends about him yet. And really, there wasn’t much to tell.

Alice looked mischievous. “Nantucket women have a history of being satisfied without a man. They had to be inventive—so many of their husbands were away for years, off at sea hunting whales. So they created a little, um,
device,
out of baked clay, as a substitute. Shaped like a phallus and called a ‘he’s-at-home.’”

Shirley giggled.

Faye was astonished. “Good grief, Alice, where do you find information like this?”

Alice smiled. “I read an article by Tom Congdon in
Forbes FYI,
entitled ‘Mrs. Coffin’s Consolation.’”

“What’s
Forbes FYI
?” Polly asked.

Alice looked slightly abashed. “A supplement to the business magazine. I glance at it occasionally.”

“I’m sure women have invented sexual substitutes since the beginning of time,” Marilyn said.

“Well,
you
don’t need one,” Shirley pointed out. “You’ve found a good guy!”

“True.” Marilyn smiled, looking smug. “Ian is wonderful. I do love him. And I want to marry him. But at the same time, Polly, I can see how having only a good-time relationship might not be a bad idea.”

“Is his son a problem?” Alice asked.

“Well…” Marilyn leaned back in her chair, ignoring the french fries that had come with her sandwich. “I guess Angus is no more a problem than my mother. Life is just so messy. Especially now that Angus has a puppy whom he keeps forgetting to house-train.”

“Oh boy.” Alice pinched her nose.

“You got it,” Marilyn told her.

“Oh, Polly,” Shirley said. “I just can’t stop thinking about you breaking it off with Hugh. I think you should give that careful thought.”

“I will, this week,” Polly said.

The waiter came up. “Coffee? Dessert?”

Everyone ordered coffee.

Marilyn looked at her watch. “Our ferry should be here any moment.”

“Anything we should know about the house?” Faye asked Alice and Shirley.

“We’ve left a lot of food and toilet paper,” Alice told her.

Shirley leaned forward. “You might want to be very careful with any precious jewelry. I don’t know what’s going on, but I think the house has a pack rat. I’ve now lost two different earrings.”

“I’ve lost an earring there, too,” Faye said, then shrugged. “But they’re so easy to lose. They get caught when we take off our shirts, they fall out when we walk—the cobblestones here are so uneven.”

“I’m just saying,” Shirley insisted. “Be careful with good jewelry.”

“Do you think there’s a ghost in the house?” Marilyn asked, looking amused.

Everyone turned expectantly to Shirley.

Shirley looked apologetic. “It was probably just noises on the street. You know the Orange Street house is so close to other houses and to the road, and I’m used to sleeping out at The Haven, which is so quiet….”

“Go on,” Faye insisted.

“Two nights ago something woke me up. Sounds. Some kind of—
thumps.
And some, I don’t know, some sort of shuffling noises, as if someone were walking around downstairs.”

“What time was it?” Polly asked, eyes wide.

“About three in the morning.”

“Did you hear the noises?” Marilyn asked Alice.

Alice shook her head.

“Please. Alice snores too loudly to hear King Kong fart in her ear,” Shirley joked. “So anyway, I decided to go downstairs to investigate.”

“Brave of you!” Polly declared.

“Well, I feel a responsibility to Nora,” Shirley said. “I’d like to find out who’s taking things.”