The Summer House Read online

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” a man’s voice said. Clem sucked in her breath as his outline took shape against the blue-black summer night.

  “Hello?” She stood up, taking a step back toward the dunes. He was seated in the sand, about five yards away, at the base of the Weitzmans’ beach path.

  “It’s me,” he said, raising one hand in greeting. “Fritz.”

  Fritz. She exhaled with relief, followed just as quickly by a rush of embarrassment. How long had he been sitting there? Clem crossed her arms, suddenly aware of her gauzy nightgown. The dune grass stirred in the breeze.

  “It’s Clem,” she said shyly. “From next door?” she added, unsure if he remembered her.

  “I know,” he said. His tone was friendly, playful. Then, “Want a beer?”

  Clem glanced at the group of teens down by the water, then back up over the bluff. She hesitated. The kids were tucked safely in their beds. It was late. At that moment, there were no jobs that demanded her attention, no hands to be held. She became aware of her crossed arms and let them fall to her side. She took a step toward him. “I’d like that.”

  Fritz opened a beer and stood, handing it to her. She could see him better now, in the distant light cast from the bonfire. Their fingers brushed. “Beautiful night,” he said, holding his bottle out. They clinked the necks of their beers together, and each took a swig, their eyes meeting. Even in the chill of the shore air, Clem could feel herself blush. She averted her gaze.

  “It is,” she agreed, sitting down in the sand. “I see we had the same idea.”

  Fritz sat beside her. “Well, I don’t know what your idea was, but I was just taking in the music. You seemed about to go and join them if I hadn’t intervened.”

  She turned to him, unable to hide her smile. “Excuse me? I was coming down for a walk.”

  He kept his eyes on the bonfire. “In your nightgown?”

  She pulled the hem of her robe over her knees. “So? Like you said, it’s a beautiful night. And it’s dark out.”

  He turned to look at her. “Not that dark.”

  Clem stared at the teens and took an indignant sip of her beer. Was he really going to be that obvious?

  “Sorry,” he added. “I wasn’t looking.”

  Clem smiled in spite of herself.

  “But it is a nice nightgown.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t looking,” she reminded him.

  Fritz tipped his head back and laughed. “Touché.”

  There was something so easy about his playful tone, or maybe it was the flutter of beer in her stomach that egged her on. “You might do well to keep your eye on the group ahead. I think they’re more your age.”

  “Hey, now. I just finished law school.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Duke Law.”

  He watched her with amusement. “Something like that. My point is, I’m not as young as they are.”

  Clem shrugged. “You’ll always be baby Fritzy to me,” she said, and as soon as it came out of her mouth she began to laugh. Did he remember them calling him that? Had it bothered him? Instead of stopping to wonder, she covered her mouth with a hand to stifle the giggles that followed.

  “Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?” He was still smiling, but she wondered if she’d leveled the playing field too much. If maybe this reminder of being one of the older kids now was a disadvantage. Because, let’s face it, that’s exactly what she was: older. A widowed, older mother of two.

  She turned to face him. “Not as funny as it used to be,” she said quietly.

  He studied her, wondering at the change in the tone of their banter.

  “You’ve got two great kids,” he said, as if reading her mind.

  “Thanks. I think so.”

  “The last time I saw you was when you were in college. So, did you ever become a nurse?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Is that what I used to want to be?”

  He shrugged. “Or was it a vet?”

  Clem groaned. “That was Paige. Now she’s older.” She glanced at him sideways. “I’m not that old.”

  He watched her for a beat. “I know. You and Suzy are the same age. Thirty . . .”

  Clem held up her hand. “Thirtysomething!” she said before he could finish.

  “I don’t get it,” Fritz said, shaking his head. “So you’re thirty . . .”—he waited for the look that he knew she’d throw him—“something,” he finished. “You’re young. And beautiful.”

  Clem lifted her beer quickly to her mouth and finished it. “I’d better get back.”

  Fritz stood with her. “Can I interest you in another? Night’s young.”

  She nodded toward the group of teens. It had grown smaller, and those remaining had begun kicking sand onto the fire. “Looks like the party’s over,” she said softly. She felt a little deflated.

  “Next time,” he said, his eyes fixed on her. “Hey, I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

  “You didn’t.” But he had, even if it was unintentional. Clem hadn’t sat with another man since Ben. She hadn’t even looked twice at one. Sitting here with Fritz commenting on her children and complimenting her looks was suddenly very personal. And yet there was something also personal about it being with Fritz, in a good way. Fritz had never met Ben, as far as she knew. But he’d known her, the younger version of her, her whole life. He’d leapt off dunes and swam in the waves and run with her through the months of July and August as far back as she could remember. And there was something both familiar and comforting about that fact that kept her there on the sand. Something she needed.

  The breeze picked up, and Clem shivered. She didn’t really want to go, but she couldn’t stay.

  “Here,” Fritz said. Before she could object, he unzipped his hooded sweatshirt and placed it around her shoulders. She put it on, but it was he who zipped it up for her, just as she did for Maddy. His face was so close she could smell the beer on his breath.

  “Better?”

  She nodded gratefully.

  “Thanks for the beer, Fritz. And the company. Both were really nice.”

  It was dark on the beach, but the faint lights coming from the houses above silhouetted the two of them. She could just make out Fritz’s expression. “It was my pleasure.”

  She started to unzip his jacket, but he held up his hand. “Please, keep it. It’s chilly.”

  “Okay.” Clem realized she was still holding her empty beer. “Well, good night.”

  Fritz reached out and took the empty bottle from her, but then he dropped it in the sand. Before she understood what was happening, he reached for her with both hands. Clem drew in a ragged breath.

  She would not kiss this boy. She had not been kissed by anyone else, not since Ben. She didn’t even think she knew how to anymore. It was too soon.

  But as Fritz brought his hands gently to her face, she found herself closing her eyes, involuntarily, and raising her chin. She waited, shivering. But he did not kiss her. Instead, he pulled the hood of the sweatshirt up over her hair. She opened her eyes and blinked, stunned and ripe with embarrassment.

  “Good night, Clementine,” he said. And before she could answer, he stepped back, raised his hand, and turned up his beach path. She exhaled, awash with relief. And something else.

  Heart in her throat, Clem turned toward her own path and climbed it hurriedly, her legs pumping in the cold sand. What had she been thinking? Fritz was a family friend. A mere boy from childhood. They knew nothing of each other, after all these years. But images flashed through her muddled thoughts: his smile, his broad hands. She was halfway to the top of the bluff before she realized what else it was that she’d felt down there on the beach when he pulled away: disappointment.

  Paige

  Her last orthopedic canine patient had been successfully discharged. She’d received a text from the vet tech before she’d even awakened saying that his owners had come to pick him up. The drains remained in place, and they’d taught th
em how to keep them clean. Paige breathed a sigh of relief.

  Downstairs, she found Emma bent over her phone in the kitchen. She plucked a bowl and a box of cereal from the cupboard and glanced at her daughter. Her legs were getting brown already, something from David’s side. She peered at her own: still fish-belly white, protruding from her pink running shorts. “What happened to Huck Finn?”

  Emma laughed out loud, and Paige glanced her way. She was laughing at something she was reading from her phone.

  “Did you finish Huck Finn?” Paige asked again. She didn’t seem to hear. “Em?”

  “What?” Emma snapped.

  Paige set her cereal bowl on the table and looked into her daughter’s upturned face. At least she was making eye contact with her mother, something that was like pulling teeth from Ned. But she looked annoyed. And tired. “Hey. I asked about your book. Why the tone?”

  Emma lifted one shoulder and tucked her phone in her back shorts pocket.

  First Sam and her mother. Not Emma, too. Paige was growing weary of everyone’s energy; this was supposed to be vacation.

  “Nothing. Sorry.” Emma blinked, looking uncomfortable.

  “Are you having a good week?” She felt like she’d barely seen her.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  All through middle school, Emma had given her almost no trouble. She knew she should be grateful that this sudden distance was all she’d shown of her thirteen years thus far.

  “Good. Daddy and I were talking about taking a day off from the beach and doing something else. Any interest?”

  Emma piped up. “Can we go shopping?”

  “Oh. I was thinking we could go up to Napatree and do some hiking. Get some exercise.”

  It wasn’t the answer Emma wanted to hear. She slumped back into the chair. “I thought we were on vacation.”

  “Yes, at the shore,” Paige reminded her. “Come on, honey. Remember the ocean views from the point? We can’t get that at home. Let’s—”

  Emma stood up abruptly. “Take advantage of it!” she said curtly. She pushed her chair back and walked out to the deck.

  Paige turned to see David watching from the kitchen sink. “I didn’t hear you come down.”

  He nodded silently as he poured himself some coffee. “If she wants to shop, I can take her into town,” he said.

  Paige stared into her cereal. Here it was again: she was the pushy one, the ringleader, the . . . what had Sam called her? The dictator!

  “If no one wants to hike, we don’t have to hike. I would just like us to do something together today.” She gestured toward the window. “It’s gorgeous out.”

  David didn’t come to the table to join her, but followed Emma’s path to the deck. “We know,” he said. There was no ire in his tone, but she heard it. As though they were on two different teams, his being the one with their kids. Outside, David settled into a deck chair beside Emma. She looked up and smiled at her dad, her expression bright and welcoming. Paige couldn’t hear the words, but they fell into conversation the moment he pulled his chair in. She knew it was irrational, but it felt like a betrayal of sorts—by both of them. It seemed like yesterday that Emma had looked at her that way; when she managed to get out of the clinic early and pick her up from kindergarten. When she sat down next to her on the living room rug with a favorite book. Their bond as mother-daughter had always come so easily. Now, it was something she had to coax, to tease out, like a wary animal from its dark warren.

  When had it happened? She stirred the remnants of granola in the bottom of her bowl before dumping the rest in the trash. Fine; they’d go into town and shop on Bay Street. She’d always liked to look through the stores, despite the crowds. Granted, most were resort-type boutiques chock full of coastal-themed home goods like tiny cheese knives with seashell handles and pillows stitched with whales. She supposed she could use a new Watch Hill T-shirt.

  * * *

  As predicted, the sidewalks of Bay Street were clogged with tourists moving at a snail’s pace. They’d piled into Clem’s Suburban—Paige, Emma, the uncles, and Richard. Ned had stayed behind with the little kids to help Clem at the beach. With four days left until the party, Flossy had remained sentinel in the house watching Joe—who was probably the least likely among them to require any form of monitoring—paint. On their way out the door, Sam had joked, “If she stares at it long enough, maybe she’ll scare the paint a decidedly whiter shade.”

  They parked midway up the drag, in front of the Olympia Tea Room. Patrons lingered at the small wrought iron tables on the sidewalk, sipping iced tea and spooning chowder. Paige inhaled contentedly. Coming to town wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. She glanced at Emma, whose mood had improved as she surveyed the storefronts. Across the street from the line of shops, the Watch Hill harbor sparkled in the full July sun, the boat masts gleaming white batons against the cloudless blue sky. Paige smiled. “Let’s walk along the harbor wall and check out the boat names,” she suggested.

  “Let’s!” Richard said. “And maybe some ice cream.” It was something Richard had loved to do when Paige was little. She glanced at Emma.

  “I want to look in there,” she said, pointing to a storefront down the sidewalk. Racks of bathing suits and swim cover-ups framed its pink doorway. Before anyone could answer, she was heading that way. Paige fell into step behind Evan and Sam, who also seemed at ease out of the house.

  “Remember that set of ivory dishes we liked last summer?” Evan asked.

  Paige didn’t correct him. It was two summers ago, but she did remember. “The ones with the fish motif?” she said.

  Evan smiled. “Yes! Do you remember which store that was?”

  Paige glanced up and down the sidewalk. “Wasn’t it across the way, at that home goods store?”

  Sam shook his head. “Let’s see what Emma’s found, and we can head over.”

  But Evan wasn’t listening. He’d stopped abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk, in front of a store window, causing others to have to shift around him.

  Sam patted his arm. “Ev?”

  It was then Paige realized why. She followed Evan’s gaze. It was a children’s clothing store, the bump-out bay window filled with red, white, and blue coastal kids’ wear. Seersucker shifts. Sailor suits. The cutest pink lobster onesie hanging in the center of the window over a gossamer-lined bassinet.

  Immediately her eyes went to Evan’s, whose were locked on the display. But it was Sam’s who tore her gaze away. He was watching Evan with such tenderness, allowing him this moment without interruption. Finally, he put his hand on Evan’s arm. Evan blinked, then stepped away. “Emma’s up there,” he said.

  “Evan,” Sam said softly, his hand still resting on his partner. “We can still go in and look.”

  But Evan shook his head, moving out of Sam’s reach and down the sidewalk. “Emma’s up ahead. Let’s catch up before we lose her.”

  Unsure of what to say, Paige remained frozen by the baby store window. She should’ve had the sense to walk ahead, but now she couldn’t leave him.

  Sam stared at the onesie a moment longer, then jammed his hands into his shorts pockets. “Let’s go,” he said, bitterly. “Before we lose her.”

  The hip clothing store where Emma had gone was narrow and deep, as were most of the storefronts on Bay Street. And like the others, a tanned young teen worked the register—her impossibly white teeth flashing hello at each customer who entered. Not now, thought Paige, as she followed Sam into the store. He’d not said a word on the walk over.

  She found Emma and Evan at the rear, standing by the dressing rooms. Emma was looking in the mirror.

  “What’d you find, honey?” Paige asked.

  Emma stood in front of a mirror wearing a small black bikini, triangular top. Evan stood to the side, eyebrows raised.

  “Oh, Em. I don’t know,” Paige began.

  “Isn’t it cute?” Emma turned around to show her, but her face fell the moment she made eye contact with he
r mother. “You don’t like it.”

  “That’s not what she said,” Evan offered softly.

  “I do like it,” Paige said, trying not to narrow her eyes. The triangles were so small, and the black lace looked like something out of a lingerie catalogue. Emma had always favored tanks—solid-colored, modest tanks like the swimmers wore. “It’s just a bit much, don’t you think?”

  “You hate it.” Emma strode into the dressing room and tugged the blue curtain behind her. Paige stared helplessly at the rainbow-colored fish, her brain swimming with them.

  “I’ll give you girls a minute,” Evan said. He squeezed Paige’s upper arm on the way past.

  “Emma,” Paige said, standing outside the curtain. “You look beautiful in it. But it doesn’t seem practical. How can you swim or boogie board in a suit like that?”

  From the other side of the curtain was the angry sound of hangers clanking.

  Emma swept it aside. “When was the last time you saw me boogie board?” she asked.

  True, Paige couldn’t say she had noticed her boarding yet this vacation. But, by the same token, she hadn’t noticed her not boarding. It was something the whole family did. Something they’d always done!

  “You love to board,” she said. She was not about to let a silly swimsuit take over their beach activities.

  “Not anymore,” Emma muttered, walking past her.

  Paige noticed with relief the swimsuit had been left hanging in the dressing room. She pointed to a wall of suits. “Let’s look for another one,” she suggested.