CHAPTER TEN

“Pass me the suntan lotion.”

Evvie did as Schyler requested. She watched him spread the liquid over his arms and chest. It hadn’t taken Schyler long to acquire a perfect tan. She, on the other hand, was a blotchy combination of sunburn and freckles. The only one in her family with even the remotest chance to tan well was Claire, and Claire insisted on keeping her complexion creamy white all year round. “I will not pay for a tan now with wrinkles when I’m fifty,” she’d declared when she was ten. Claire believed in advance planning.

“What if there’s a nuclear war?” Sybil had asked at the time. “Then you’ll just end up wrinkled like everybody else in the world.”

“I will never be like everyone else in the world,” Claire had replied.

Evvie grinned at the memory. Claire, of course, had been right, but Sybil had chased her around the house—or was it an apartment that year?—demanding a different answer. Claire proclaimed, Sybil demanded. It had been that way for quite a while.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Schyler said.

“You’d be cheated,” Evvie replied. “They’re not worth that much.”

“That’s all right,” Schyler said. “I’ll take my chances.”

“I was thinking about my family,” Evvie said.

“That’s sweet,” Schyler declared. “You’re a very sweet girl, Evvie.”

“Am I?” Evvie asked. “I doubt Aunt Grace thinks so.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Schyler said. “I’m sure she’s very fond of you. Clark says so. He says in spite of everything, Grace loves your mother and all you girls a great deal.”

“Clark’s very dear,” Evvie said. “But he still believes in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. Come to think of it, in my family, he is Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy.”

“Clark says your father is an innovative businessman,” Schyler said. “And that many of his deals have proven quite lucrative.”

“Clark’s right,” Evvie replied. “There have been times we’ve had money to burn.”

“Then what happened?” Schyler asked.

“We burned it,” Evvie said. “That’s the nature of our family.”

“It sounds,” Schyler began, but then he obviously couldn’t think of just how it sounded. “It sounds interesting,” he finally ended with, and Evvie laughed.

“Very interesting,” she replied. “No one’s ever accused us of being boring.”

“I envy that,” Schyler said. “Boring is on my family’s coat of arms. There’s a picture of some ancient knight named Hughes yawning.”

“You don’t really have a coat of arms, do you?” Evvie asked.

“Of course we do,” Schyler said. “Mother researched it. She’s a fanatic on family history, traced hers and Dad’s, all the way back to some ungodly century. I made up the part about yawning, though.”

“I suspected you might have,” Evvie said.

“This is a perfect beach,” Schyler said. He leaned over, and kissed Evvie. “And you are a perfect girl to be on the beach with.”

“No, I’m not,” Evvie replied. “The perfect girl would have a perfect tan.”

“I can overlook that,” Schyler declared, and proved it with another kiss. This one lasted longer, and like the day and the beach was, in its own way, perfect, too.

“Thank goodness for Aunt Grace’s naps,” Evvie said. “My daily two hours in heaven.”

“Grace wouldn’t object to your seeing me,” Schyler said. “Would she?”

“Not that I know of,” Evvie said. “Even though your mother isn’t from Boston.”

“I didn’t think so,” Schyler said. “Clark led me to believe Grace would be happy if we dated this summer. Clark certainly is.”

“You aren’t dating me because Clark wants you to?” Evvie asked. “Are you?”

“No, of course not,” Schyler replied. “Are you kidding? A girl as pretty as you? No, I was thinking more of you than me.”

Evvie doubted that. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I could understand it if Grace wouldn’t let you date a year-rounder,” Schyler said. “Or Sam Steinmetz. But I would have thought I’d be socially acceptable.”

“Why shouldn’t I see Sam?” Evvie asked, and she realized how much she sounded like Sybil. “You think Grace wouldn’t approve just because he’s Jewish?”

“I doubt that’s a point in his favor,” Schyler said. “But, no, I didn’t mean that.”

“Then because his grandparents own the bookstore?” Evvie asked.

“Oh come on Evvie,” Schyler said. “You know the story. You must. Does that sound like the kind of boy Grace Winslow would want her grandniece to be involved with?”

“What story?” Evvie asked.

“You don’t know?” Schyler said. “No one’s told you about Sam’s family?”

“Sam has,” Evvie said. “He lives with his grandparents. One set for nine months, and the Steinmetzes for the other three.”

Schyler laughed. “He seems to have left out his parents,” he said.

“I just assumed they were dead or something,” Evvie said.

“You got it,” Schyler said. “They’re dead or something.”

“What?” Evvie asked. “What is it about Sam’s parents?”

“You’re beautiful when you’re agitated,” Schyler declared.

“Don’t tease,” Evvie said. “I want to know what you know about Sam.”

“I thought everyone knew,” Schyler replied. “I was certain you did. I figured Sam must have told you, or your aunt, or Clark, or even Mrs. Baker.”

“They didn’t,” Evvie said. “So you have to.”

“If I have to, I have to,” Schyler said. “Sam’s father is dead. His mother killed him.”

“You’re kidding,” Evvie said. “Is she in prison?”

“They only wish,” Schyler replied. “What’s the expression? She’s on the lam. It’s been years, but they’ve never caught up to her.”

“That’s terrible,” Evvie said. “She murdered him?”

“Not exactly,” Schyler said. “I’m sure she’d say it was an accident. The FBI might not agree though, what with all those radical politics.”

“How old was Sam when it happened?” Evvie asked.

“I don’t know,” Schyler replied. “He must have been real young. It happened a long time ago, from what I’ve heard. Everybody in town knows about it. I don’t know who Sam thought he was kidding not telling you.”

“I don’t know, either,” Evvie said. “I guess if my mother killed my father, I wouldn’t tell everybody about it, though.”

“I can’t see your parents getting into a mess like that,” Schyler declared. “I grant you, I’ve never met them, but they don’t seem like the type to blow up banks.”

“Sam’s parents blew up a bank?” Evvie asked. “And that’s how his father died?”

“By the rocket’s red glare,” Schyler said. “The bombs bursting in air. Gave proof through the night that Sam’s mom wasn’t there. His dad was, though. In a thousand little pieces. Lots of people died, but his mother got away, and she’s stayed away ever since. Not that I blame her. I wouldn’t want to have the Steinmetzes for my in-laws, either.” He laughed.

Evvie felt sick. She didn’t know which upset her more, Schyler’s cheery pleasure at having told the story, or Sam’s not having done so. Sam must have known she’d find out. Why hadn’t he trusted her with the truth?

“You look pale,” Schyler declared. “I’m sorry, Evvie. I thought you’d find it funny.”

“You mean it was all a joke?” Evvie asked.

“I didn’t make it up, if that’s what you mean,” Schyler said. “Clark told me. He said he was surprised Grace was letting you see Sam. He didn’t think she was that tolerant. As a matter of fact, he said if you were staying under his roof this summer, he doubted he’d give you permission to see Sam. Not that it’s Sam’s fault, what his parents did. But Clark doesn’t think it’s safe, given Sam’s family history. The whole thing might blow up in your face.” Schyler laughed again.

“I’m going now,” Evvie said. “Schyler, will you excuse me?”

“Why?” Schyler asked. “Is it something I’ve said?”

It’s everything you’ve said, Evvie thought. And the way you’ve said it. “I’ve gotten a headache from the sun,” she said instead. “Besides, Aunt Grace will be getting up soon. I’ll see you later.”

“Not too much later, I hope,” Schyler said.

“We’ll see.” Evvie gathered her things up and ran down the beach toward Aunt Grace’s cottage. She let herself in, and was relieved not to see the Bakers or the maid, or to hear Aunt Grace moving about. She needed some time to herself to decide what to do.

I could pretend I don’t know, she thought. Wait for Sam to tell me himself.

And if he didn’t? Then where was she? Besides, there was always the chance Schyler was lying, or at least exaggerating. No, she was better off confronting Sam. It was better to face things head on.

She picked up the phone and called Sam at the store. She was relieved when he answered.

“I need to talk with you,” she said. “Can you get away for a few minutes?”

“I guess so,” he replied. “Things are pretty quiet around here. Where do you want to meet?”

“We have a gazebo,” Evvie said.

“We do?” Sam said. “That’s news to us.”

“Aunt Grace has a gazebo,” Evvie said. “All right? I’ll be waiting for you there.”

“It sounds romantic,” Sam said. “See you in a few minutes.”

Evvie hung up and walked to the gazebo. She didn’t feel like waiting for Sam indoors. The gazebo was romantic, or would be under the proper circumstances. Nicky and Megs had met there at least once, when they’d burned the frilly pink dress. She could almost feel their youthful ardor as she sat on the wrought iron loveseat and awaited Sam’s arrival.

“So this is a gazebo,” he said, as he entered it. “I’ve often wondered what the landed gentry did with their extra dollars.”

“I like it,” Evvie said. “It’s cool and private.”

“Is that why you asked me here?” Sam asked. “For the cool and private?”

“For the private,” she admitted. “Sam, why didn’t you tell me about your parents?”

“Oh,” Sam said. “Would you mind if I sat down?” He settled into a wrought iron chair. “This is awfully uncomfortable,” he declared. “No wonder gazebos are out of fashion.”

“I still want to hear about your parents,” Evvie said.

“What have you heard?” Sam asked instead. “Not that it matters. Probably the truth. Who told you?”

“Schyler.”

“Schyler?” Sam said. “I always thought people that good-looking only talked about themselves.”

“You came up in conversation,” Evvie said. “He said there was a big mess about your parents, that they were some sort of radicals, and your father was dead, but your mother was still missing. Is that true?”

“True enough,” Sam replied. “Schyler. I assumed you’d hear it from somebody, but I never would have guessed him. My money was on Mrs. Baker, the way she looks at me. Or even Aunt Grace, in a moment of weakness. Not Schyler. He isn’t even a summer person. How does he know?”

“Clark told him,” Evvie said. “The question is why didn’t you tell me?”

“It never occurred to me,” Sam declared. “And I was right. You found out anyway. You didn’t need my teary-eyed confession.”

“I know we don’t know each other very well,” Evvie began. “But I felt a connection between us. Did I make it up? I thought we liked each other enough to be honest.”

“Oh, Evvie,” Sam said. “It isn’t that simple with me. You want the truth. Here’s the truth. I didn’t tell you because I’ve never in my life told anybody. Nine months a year, I live a lie. I’m Sammy Greene, and my grandparents took me in after my parents died in a car crash. Very noble of them, very tragic for me. But normal. I didn’t learn the truth myself until I was eleven, and overheard them talking about it. The Steinmetzes were forcing the issue. I was old enough to know the truth. Granddad and Grandmom were debating how to tell me when I overheard. That’s how I learned. I was eleven years old and I didn’t even know my mother was still alive.”

“How did it happen?” Evvie asked. “Your parents, I mean.”

“Probably just the way Schyler described it,” Sam said. “They were part of a radical commune. They were already underground when it happened. They decided to blow up a bank as a political statement, only the bomb went off a little too soon. Four people died, including my father and a bank guard. My mother was seen running out of there, which is how they knew she was alive. No one’s seen her since, or if they have, they haven’t talked about it.”

“You weren’t there with them?” Evvie asked.

“No, Evvie,” Sam said. “Not even the most devoted radical terrorists take two-year-olds with them to bank bombings. They found me a day or so later, all alone in the commune. It wasn’t hard to figure out who I was. The Greenes got me. My other grandparents, after all, had just had their son die. It was in all the papers.”

“I was only one then,” Evvie pointed out. “I didn’t read the papers.”

“Neither did I,” Sam said. “Not until I was eleven. Then I read everything I could find about them. My parents, I mean. Did you know my mother holds the record for being the longest-running female on the Ten Most Wanted list? I used to be mortified every time I went into a post office.”

Evvie reached over and touched Sam’s arm. He looked at her and moved away slightly.

“It’s no big deal,” he said. “Actually, the only real difference after I found out was that I started spending summers here, rather than at camp. Before then Granddad wouldn’t let me stay here because everyone in Eastgate knew about Mark and Linda Steinmetz. They still do, obviously. But once I found out, Belle and Lou insisted I start coming here. Which I did. The first summer I guess I had a big chip on my shoulder, but then I realized nobody cared. It wasn’t like I was a real year-rounder. I was just the Steinmetzes’ grandkid. It got to the point I didn’t even mind going to the post office.”

“I wish you’d told me,” Evvie said. “Not because it matters. But because I would like to have heard it from you, not Schyler.”

“Nine months a year, I live a lie,” Sam said, and Evvie could see he was choosing his words carefully. “Three months a year, it doesn’t matter. It never occurred to me to tell you. When I go off to college, I won’t tell people. It’s better the fewer people who know. There’s less risk that way.”

“Risk?” Evvie said. “For who?”

“For me, for starters,” Sam said. “I don’t like to be thought of as a curiosity. A whatever-happened-to. I really am Sammy Greene, a lot more than I’m Sam Steinmetz, Mark and Linda’s legacy to the movement. You know, I’m starting to like this gazebo. It does feel private. And the chairs are uncomfortable enough to distract me.”

“My parents are a unit,” Evvie said. “And my father, well, he isn’t a fraud exactly, but sometimes he embellishes. Appearance counts for a lot. But I’ve never felt they’ve been dishonest with me. No matter what, I’ve always known they were being honest with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a lie,” Sam said. “Just as long as the truth doesn’t come out.”

Evvie wondered if Sam meant that. She suspected he did. “Have you ever heard from your mother?” she asked. “Once you found out about her? Has she ever contacted you?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Sam said.

Evvie stared at him. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Of course you can. You think I’m the FBI or something?”

“No, of course not,” Sam said. “But you might tell someone what I told you and that someone might tell the FBI. I told you there were risks, and there are. Not just for me. For my mother. For my grandparents. For everybody who might know something.”

“Oh come on now,” Evvie said. “It happened fifteen years ago. Who cares?”

“They care,” Sam said. “Evvie, I really do like you. I like you more than any girl I’ve ever met. I like you enough that I didn’t want you to know the truth. That was pretty stupid of me, here in Eastgate, but I wasn’t thinking. Evvie, they care. As long as they think my mother is still alive, they’ll care. I’m the link. What kind of mother would ignore her only child for fifteen years, after all. All the phones are tapped. There’s constant surveillance. I don’t mind. I’m used to it. But if it’s going to bother you, then forget we ever met. They probably haven’t started a file on you yet.”

Evvie looked out the gazebo into the garden and wished she didn’t feel quite so uncomfortable. Sam was undoubtedly exaggerating. And even if he wasn’t, what difference should it make.

“I like you a lot, too,” she said. “It bothers me that you can’t trust me.”

“People who live a lie don’t trust easily,” Sam replied. “I would have thought you’d know that.”

“I didn’t before,” Evvie said. “You’re a real learning experience, Sam.”

“Great,” Sam said. “Think of me as summer school.” He got up from his chair, and dusted himself off.

“Sam,” Evvie said. “Does it matter that I know?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “I think I might be glad. How do you feel?”

“Sad for you,” she said. “Having to lie all the time. And for having the parents you have.”

“That’s the luck of the draw,” Sam said. “There are worse. And my grandparents love me a lot. I love them, too. All things considered, I’m okay.”

“All things considered,” Evvie said. She walked over to Sam and kissed him. Lies or no lies, the connection was still there.

Sam broke away from the kiss first. “I should be going,” he said. “Lou still isn’t feeling well. I should get back to the store.”

“Will I see you again?” Evvie asked.

“If you want,” he said.

Evvie nodded. “You know my parents burned a dress right by this gazebo,” she declared, wanting to keep him there by her side for as long as she could. “A pink dress with ruffles.”

Sam laughed. “Every family comes complete with its own history,” he declared. “Mine is bombing. Yours is arson. Who knows? Maybe we deserve each other.”

“Maybe we do,” Evvie murmured, and watched Sam walk away.