ALL JUNE, RUTHIE heard about Adeline. Adeline was enchanted by the yacht club and wanted to join, even though she didn’t sail. Adeline had bought an old bike and was spotted cycling down Narrow River Road. Adeline had asked when scallop season started and was startled to hear it was fall.
She read about her, too. Everyone did. They all clicked on the links. Her split with Daniel Mantis—that dramatic photograph of her holding up a hand, as if to hold him off, and Mantis looking like a thug—was splattered among the tabloids, but it was counted as a mark in her favor. She’d split with a billionaire!
They caught glimpses of her, driving into town, or her arms full of lavender walking down Village Lane. They liked her baggy shorts and Chucks. They liked how she made an effort to be just folks, even if she didn’t socialize with more than a wave.
Ruthie was always struck by how Adeline moved radiantly through the world as if it were arranging itself around her. It was either Botox or inner peace. She never got close enough to tell.
THE VILLAGE WAS filling when Ruthie arrived for the Heritage Day parade. People streamed out of their houses, holding coffee mugs and dog leashes, everyone dressed in various combinations of red, white, and blue. The parade was forming at the end of the street, beribboned tractors and wagons and kerchiefed dogs and children on bikes trailing streamers. It was a day when bunting had its moment. The annual reading of the Declaration of Independence would be followed by hot dogs in Poquatuck Park. Today no one cranked about politics; they were happy to celebrate America.
As Ruthie walked and waved, she pondered. An ominous email had slithered into her inbox that morning, and Ruthie was still anxious about its significance. It was the Fourth of July weekend. It was time to call in the French.
Ducking down a side street, she dialed the phone, and relief flooded her when Carole answered. She hit her with the information in a sputtering barrage like a faulty artillery gun—Mindy had asked for a meeting with Gloria and Helen to discuss “the next phase,” what the hell. She had a bad feeling. Did Carole know about this?
“Merde,” Carole said. “No idea. Things were going so well. Let me call her and I’ll call you back. Or maybe I should call Gloria. Oh, God, don’t make me call Gloria. Never mind. I’ll call someone and call you back.”
Ruthie walked back to watch the parade. She listened to the Declaration of Independence and petted dogs and spoke to neighbors and ate a muffin, all the while waiting for the hum in the pocket of her shorts that would signal Carole’s call. When it finally arrived, she almost missed it. She said hello while ducking down a driveway.
“Okay,” Carole said. “Here’s the thing. Mindy and Gloria have a majority on the exec committee as it stands right now.”
“What?”
“She got to Helen.”
“Helen?” This was bad.
“After some hand-wringing she admitted that Mindy has her totally confused but she’s going to vote her way. Mindy keeps blabbing about ‘making the Belfry the MoMA of the East End’ and ‘strong new leadership.’ There’s an emergency meeting of the executive committee on Monday. Which usually means some kind of vote. I can’t call in, I’ll be in the Hebrides. We leave in—oh my God, an hour.”
“What?”
“I’m going on this tour with the kids, and it’s a totally screen-free vacation, so I won’t have my phone. Or email. Insane, right? But Dash and Arden are addicted, so I promised I’d do it if they’d do it.”
“But you’re an adult. You can cheat.”
“I promised them I wouldn’t.”
“But, Carole. You could be the tie-breaking vote! Or talk them out of it.”
“I never break a promise with my kids. It would undermine our whole relationship! I’m a mother before I’m a person. Did I tell you about this? We’re taking a boat to this island and sleeping in tents and they bring cots and stoves and everything…it’s fabulous. It’s roughing it, but, you know, with mattresses and a chef. Think Out of Africa except in the North Sea. Dash is just obsessed with anything Neolithic. Look, just go tomorrow and see what they say.”
SHE WOULD HAVE called Mike for advice, but there was a coolness between them. They’d argued about Jem a week ago and hadn’t talked since. His June had been busy and she’d barely seen him. Whatever current had been stirred up between them the day Adeline arrived had been absorbed into the daily activity of staying afloat. One day he’d come by to pick up Jem; Adeline had offered to bring Jem to Roberta Verona’s Sagaponack house to help her test recipes. Jem was a gifted and intuitive cook, and she had come back (two hours late) with a new energy that had resulted in some amazing dinners, so how could Ruthie complain? Something had happened, some separation from Meret and her crowd, but Jem wasn’t talking, content to bake a variety of breads in the early morning and head off to her shifts at the farm stand.
Then a week ago Ruthie had received a call from Roberta’s office asking for Jem’s Social Security number. Apparently she had been hired by Roberta as a kitchen helper.
“Imagine my surprise,” she said to Mike when she called him.
“Roberta was really impressed with her, and she needs some extra help. She’s working on a new cookbook.”
“Adeline should have checked with us.”
“She did. I mean, she mentioned it to me while I was fixing that leak by the French doors. I might have said we could work it out, I guess. My schedule is pretty light right now, and we could alternate—”
“But you said yes without checking with me first.”
“Adeline was trying to do a good thing. I thought it was generous. As long as we’re talking about it, what do you have against it?”
“She made a commitment to the farm stand. It’s a small operation. She could really mess them up if she walks out. Penny got her the job.”
“Oh, come on, there’s plenty of kids who can ring up corn.”
“That’s not all she does, she oversees the whole CSA program!”
Mike sighed, as if this point was drearily practical. “This could be good for her,” he said. “Have you noticed how shut down she’s been since school let out?”
“She needs a little time. Meret dumped her, apparently.”
“She needs a bigger world. This could be that thing.”
“It’s hours away! Two ferries. Traffic. Or is Roberta going to send a launch?”
“Why do you always bring up obstacles right out of the gate?”
“Because they exist, and they have to be dealt with.”
“If you’d just…just…”
He hadn’t finished the sentence, but he didn’t have to. If you’d just be…not you was implied. Should she just wear the pink shirt everywhere, to convince everyone she was a more fun version of herself?
“Look,” she said, “I want her to be happy and have a glamorous job, but this is kind of crazy.”
“Well, who would want to be crazy,” Mike said, and a tidal wave of rage carried her up and over the wall. She wanted to say everything that had rushed up like blood to the head, hammer him like a prosecutor. She said nothing.
From: Jemma Dutton
To: Mom
I called Adeline to thank her for help w the job w Roberta and she said you said no why
From: Mom
To: Jemma Dutton
It’s impractical. I have no idea how we’d get you there and back. It’s at least ninety minutes coming and going. Plus ferry lines. etc
From: Jem
To: Mom
Lucas said he could take me sometimes
From: Mom
To: Jem
We hardly know him. So no.
From: Jem
To: Mom
This is unbelievable
From: Mom
To: Jem
Maybe you could do it sometimes on your day off. Most important you made a commitment to the farm stand and to Penny who got you the job.
From: Jem
To: Mom
Dad said yes
From: Mom
To: Jem
I say no.
From: Jem
To: Mom
I AM NEVER SPEAKING TO YOU AGAIN
FOR A MONTH she’d used product in her hair, worn new shoes, borrowed linen and crisp cottons from Carole’s closet, taken notes in meetings, gently prevented Catha from utilizing her usual habit of taking credit for things she had little to do with. Carole had sent her messages of encouragement: Heard you did a fabulous job at the board meeting! The Garden Club loves you! I really think you’ve got this.
In the afternoons she would look out into the humming hive of the office, Tobie at the computer, Vivian getting a cup of coffee, Mark hurrying by with supplies for the art camp. She looked beyond them out the window to the trees outside, to the road to the village, and her neighborhood, and her friends, and her daughter, and the boards and nails and walls and windows of her house. That’s what kept pounding in her brain, in her heart. I can’t lose this.