A LITTLE LESS her.
Ruthie drove to the farm stand. Mike had texted, saying he was stuck on a job, his day was crazy, could she pick up Jem after all? Nothing about this morning. Nothing about tomorrow night.
Still. Summer, car windows down. If she blasted the radio she could grasp just a split second of feeling young despite an adulthood of airbags and disappointments.
Traffic was heavy. Travel writers undid themselves with headlines about the Un-Hamptons, with the predictable result that the North Fork was becoming more like the Hamptons every day. The locals were starting second jobs as bartenders and cashiers. They would do the shopping early, take the back roads, and curse the interlopers. Memorial Day weekend was only a taste of what was to come. August would be full of corn and cars.
Ruthie pulled into the parking lot next to a white Jeep. The sun was at an angle in the sky designed to bounce the accumulated heat straight at you like a punch and then scatter it skyward again.
Red-haired Annie Doyle was spraying escarole while Jem stood at the counter. Annie had spent many a Saturday night in her house before the triad of Jem/Olivia/Annie had been pitchforked by the alpha girls Meret, Saffy, and Kate. She missed the shrieks and the private jokes and watching whole casseroles of mac and cheese disappear. Instead she had glottal stops and nail care.
In her cutoffs and pigtails Jem looked adorable, but somehow…mature. This past year there had been times when Ruthie had seen her bicycling, or walking from afar, and not recognized her for a moment. Who was that Pre-Raphaelite with the legs?
Looking like a god in rumpled khaki shorts, Lucas sauntered toward her, carrying a bag with waving fronds of fennel poking out. He held a block of French butter in the other hand.
“You found the best farm stand,” she called. “Good start!”
He stared at her blankly. Then he tossed the bag in the seat, got in the Jeep, and roared off.
Heat sprang to Ruthie’s cheeks. Okay, the remark was inane, but, what? Had she offended him?
Then she replayed the blankness on his face. He had completely forgotten that he’d met her. That very morning. In her yard. She’d chatted with him for a bit before she drove off to work. They’d had a conversation. About the best times to avoid ferry lines to the Hamptons, her favorite restaurant in Greenport.
With cheeks that still glowed with humiliation, she stalked past the broccoli. “Hey, Annie, hello, summer!” she called.
“Hello, summer!” The back of Annie’s pretty neck was sunburnt. She was about twenty pounds overweight and that meant that despite tilted green eyes and creamy skin she was not popular. She wore overalls and Doc Martens and kept her head down when she walked. No doubt boys walked by her in the halls and dismissed her. Someday she would be glorious. Someday she would flirt. Someday she would have sex and fall in love and betray someone and be betrayed and start all over again. And then, at forty-five, the iron gate of indifference would clang down and she would remember that overalled girl, and she would know she was stuck back exactly where she’d been in high school as if all that sex and attention had happened to someone else.
“Good luck, sweetie,” Ruthie said, giving her shoulder a pat.
“If you’re thinking salad, the red leaf is awesome,” Jem said as she walked up.
“I just saw Lucas Clay,” she said.
“Yeah, I’m happy he bought actual food,” Jem said. “We helped Adeline unpack, and Dad totally mocked her groceries. It was hilarious, like, just…berries. Celery and radishes. He said she needed butter for the radishes. She said she hadn’t eaten butter in twenty years. I actually think she was serious. Dad was like, oh boy, you need to live.”
“Oh, God. He didn’t give her his ‘live while you’re alive’ speech, did he?”
“Yeah, well, a version. You know what I found out? She knows Roberta Verona! My favorite chef ever? She’s, like, her best friend. Adeline said maybe I could meet her sometime, which would be amazing. She brought her own sheets and towels, by the way. Adeline, I mean. And she brought an espresso maker—one of the fancy ones—and a Vitamix. And cashmere throws, like, six of them in different colors. Dad said her car was like ‘Bed Bath and Beyond Imagining.’ ”
Ruthie pictured six cashmere throws, flung on her couches, on her beds, ready for evening chill. Powder blue, sea green, seashell pink, lilac…did she need a Vitamix?
“I just have to prep the CSAs for tomorrow, then I can go,” Jem said.
“I’ll pick out some stuff for dinner. Carole said the kitchen was stocked.”
“I put aside some beets. I can roast them.”
Ruthie clasped her hands together. “My kid likes beets. I did something right!”
“Mom.” Jem made a shooing motion with her hands.
Ruthie cruised the aisles, choosing lettuce and scallions and lemons and basil. Nonlocal blueberries. Maybe that was Adeline’s secret, antioxidants?
A pickup truck barreled into the parking lot and her best friend, Penny, raced out, her wife, Elena, following more slowly. “Hello, summer!” Penny cried, and waved at Jem. “Dude, please have garlic left!”
“On the left, dude,” Jem called. Out of all Ruthie’s friends, Jem was closest to Penny. They had bonded over pizza and The Big Lebowski and never looked back. Penny was a chef, and it was her extended tutorial on scrambled eggs—Low heat! Tablespoon of butter per egg! Yes, I said American cheese!—that had first sparked Jem’s interest in cooking. It was a small, deep pleasure in Ruthie’s life that her child and her best friend had a relationship outside of her.
“What are you cooking?” Penny asked as she peeked at Ruthie’s basket.
“I don’t know, maybe just a salad?”
“Why are you so boring?”
“I’m roasting beets!” Jem called. “And I have some fresh ricotta! And an orange!”
“Thank fucking God!” Penny yelled. She leaned over to fondle Ruthie’s herbs. “That parsley is gorgeous. That reminds me, you need to come over soon. You can work for your supper and go clamming with us. We need to eat linguine and celebrate the beginning of traffic.”
“So many needs with you,” Ruthie said, handing her cash to Annie.
“All my wants are needs,” Penny said. “Is this garlic from the farm or Stop and Shop?” she asked Jem.
“Farm,” Jem said. “Promise.”
“In that case, I will pay you. Linguine soon!”
“With lots of crushed red pepper.” Jem and Penny fist-bumped, then waggled their fingers at each other.
“So how’s your glamorous tenant?” Elena asked as they headed to their cars.
“Well tended,” Ruthie said. “She’s dazzling, if you stare too long you’ll burn out your retinas. And she’s got this gorgeous satellite stepson, who just saw me and didn’t remember me, even though we had a conversation this morning.”
Penny opened a bag of pistachios and offered them around. With tattoos and a CURSE YOUR SUDDEN AND INEVITABLE BETRAYAL T-shirt and not an ounce of fat, she almost looked like a teenager if you squinted. She cracked open a nut with her thumbs and put the shell in the pocket of her jeans. “Middle-aged-lady syndrome,” Penny said. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I’m already used to it,” Ruthie said. “Grocery clerks and waiters, sure. But we had a conversation!”
Penny shrugged. “Happens every day.”
“That reminds me. How would you describe my style?”
“You have a style?” Penny asked. At Ruthie’s look, she squinted amiably as she chewed. “I mean, okay, downtown slouch?”
“Downtown slouch?”
“Comfy stretchy things in mostly black? Like, today. You’re wearing beige, and I’m like, whoa, she’s breaking out.”
“You’re lovely,” Elena said. “I always liked those beige pants.”
“Just hearing the words ‘beige pants’ has cast me into despair,” Ruthie said.
“Have a nut. Who cares, anyway?” Penny said. “You’re presentable and dependable.”
“At long last I’ve found my epitaph.” Ruthie looked at her hands, with veins and freckles and one torn cuticle. She saw her mother’s hands, and felt cast adrift toward a future wrinkled with sadness. “We’re all dying, every day.”
Penny and Elena exchanged a glance.
“Mindy doesn’t like how I dress,” she explained.
“Mindy? Belfry Mindy?” Penny asked. “Headband Mindy? I never met a green polo I didn’t like Mindy? Mindy with the husband who is most likely right this minute relaxing at home in velour?”
“That would be the one.”
“Why listen?” Elena asked in the sweet, rational tone with which she faced the world. A copter flew overhead and she had to shout the rest. “Everyone loves you!”
“Except Mindy.”
“Nobody likes her!” Penny exploded. “She’s a pill! I was in a town meeting with her, my God! Hours of minutiae! She’s like a walking game of Trivial Pursuit, and if I’m playing, there should be a cocktail in my hand.” Penny tossed a shelled nut into the air and caught it in her mouth. “And speaking of minutiae, I saw your Catha this morning taking her ass-pirational walk.”
“She’s not my Catha, and what do you mean, aspirational?” Ruthie asked.
“First of all, she’s an ass,” Penny said. “You know that, right? Second, she goes on these woman walks.”
Ruthie nodded. “She leans in deep.”
“Please. Her route goes right by our house. I’m always there in the window with my tea. I started to notice. She only walks up. With women who can help her or her kids. You know, who’s married to the guy who runs something, or who can give her kid an internship. It’s so obvious. This morning she was walking with Doe, that tasty assistant person of yours who’s always looking at her phone.”
“Tasty?” Elena asked. “That’s gross, sweetie. She’s a kid.”
“I’m not leering, just characterizing. She’s adorable. My point is, Catha walked down. Odd.”
“Catha is Doe’s supervisor,” Ruthie said. “Maybe they were having a walking meeting.”
“What is this, California?”
“You don’t like Catha,” Ruthie said. “Everybody likes Catha. Why didn’t I know this?”
“You never asked. I don’t gossip unless you ask.”
“You just did, honey,” Elena said. “I like her okay. She’s on the Save the Wetlands committee with me. And she’s chair of the No Helipad on the North Fork committee. She drives a hybrid!”
Penny snorted. “And she’ll drive right over you in it. You think anybody who cares about the planet is a good person. The only things she stands for are herself and the Pledge of Allegiance.” She swiveled back to Ruthie. “Let’s get to the important stuff. How is Casa Berlinger? In other words, how’s the kitchen?”
“Miele dishwasher. Aga stove!”
“Whoa, after clamming let’s go to your house,” Penny said. “It might be the only place I’ll be cooking this summer.”
“What?”
Elena and Penny exchanged a glance. Penny looked away, which allowed Ruthie to notice for the first time that she was upset. No wonder she was cracking nuts as though they were the bones of an enemy.
“The restaurant closed yesterday,” Elena said. “I mean, we knew it was dicey when the landlord raised the rent so high. In the end Aaron decided he just couldn’t make it through the summer. It’s not his fault.”
“It is his fault,” Penny objected. “He was a total shit for waiting for Memorial Day weekend to tell the staff. We’re all left flat. All the restaurants have hired already.”
“Someone will quit,” Ruthie said. “You know chefs. So volatile.”
“What the fuck do you mean, volatile? Elena thinks if I don’t manage to get a gig, we should sell the rental property and open our own restaurant,” she said. “Elena said I have to follow my dream or she’ll divorce me.”
“Please don’t talk about me in front of me, love,” Elena said.
“We went to this place last night in Greenport. Tiny! All this guy—Joe Somebody—serves is oysters and chowder. One fucking good wine list. He closes at eight. Is that genius? I was so happy, the oysters were so cold and briny, the place was packed, I loved the owner. Then I got home and was immediately depressed. What am I doing with my un-wild and precious life, anyway? I wish people would just stop quoting that fucking poem at me.”
“It’s all a sign you need to do something,” Elena said.
“Apparently I’ve been so miserable I’ve been impossible,” Penny said, opening the car door and tossing the bag of nuts inside. “I know I can’t be like you and Mike. I can’t be a happy divorced person. Remember that first year after you broke up? Horrible.”
“I thought I was magnificent.”
“I’d need you all to hate Elena as much as I did, and it would be exhausting for everyone,” Penny went on. “My father keeps saying I shouldn’t rely on his will to support us. I’m fifty-five years old, and he still thinks I’m on the edge of financial disaster.”
“You are on the edge of financial disaster, sweetie,” Ruthie said, leaning against her. “We all are. And you’re fifty-seven.”
“Mike was so supportive,” Elena said. “I mean about the restaurant dream. We just ran into him in town.”
“I could have killed him, actually,” Penny said. “It was such an Oprah moment, I swear he and Elena both had tears in their eyes. Go for the dream, he said.”
“He did not. He did not say go for the dream,” Ruthie said.
“Well, okay, not exactly. He said if you’re trapped in a life that’s not your life, it’s the worst thing in the world.”
There came a pause. Ruthie distinctly saw Elena step on Penny’s foot.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean that personally,” Elena said.
“Mmm,” Ruthie said.
“He said not to give a rat’s ass what anyone else thought,” Penny added.
“And he’s seen a rat’s ass, so I’d believe him,” said Ruthie.