Summer Sisters

  Vix knows it’s important for her to agree with Tawny. So she says, “Yes … I can still see it.”

  Myles spends his days tooling around in a small wooden boat. Tawny still works for the Countess, who lives a block away in a pink eyebrow house on Francis Street. She’s tethered to an oxygen tank. She can hardly take half a dozen steps without it. Tawny supervises the round-the-clock caregivers. The Countess is partial to handsome young men. And they adore her.

  Tawny tells Vix the Countess is leaving most of her money to animal rights, but there will be a small trust set up for her. “I won’t be rich but I don’t need much living down here and I intend to stay, even after the Countess … is no longer with us. This way your father can have his savings for himself and Frankie. So if all goes well, you won’t have to worry about taking care of us when we’re old. At least we can do that much for you.”

  Vix is stunned. She’d assumed Tawny had just written them off.

  Tawny

  THERE, SHE’S DONE IT. She’s been practicing for a week and she’s finally told Victoria she’s a good daughter and deserves only the best. Well, maybe not in so many words but she’s sure Victoria got the message. Nice young man. She hopes they’ll be happy. Just don’t expect anything from her. She’s already given everything she has.

  TAWNY LIKES GUS. Everybody does. Vix feels incredibly lucky. True, he can make her crazy sometimes but his sense of humor saves them every time. He knows just how to make her laugh. She feels comfortable, yet deliciously sexy with him. They’re not afraid to play. Once he suggested she straddle him in the bathtub. Bite my neck … he’d whispered, pull my hair … Another time, while they were driving on a country road, she’d smelled peonies and felt so horny she’d unzipped his fly and reached inside his pants. He’d pulled off the road and they’d made love in the car, with the passenger door thrown open and her head hanging down. When she’s nestled in his arms she knows the others were just practice. This is for real. There’s no way she’ll ever be bored with him. She won’t let him grow bored with her.

  When she takes him to meet the Countess they’re greeted by one old dog who sniffs Gus but doesn’t even bother with Vix. The Countess pats her bed and tells Gus, “Sit here and let me look at you.” He sits beside her. She holds his hands and gazes into his eyes. Finally, she nods and says, “Love’s a hard game to play, my darlings. Play it well.”

  “Stevie Nicks,” Vix says.

  “Who?” the Countess asks.

  “It’s the title of a song I used to like.”

  “Stevie knew what he was talking about.”

  Vix doesn’t tell the Countess Stevie is a she. She kisses the Countess on her cheek. The skin feels paper-thin against her lips.

  They’ve decided to marry in September, the best month on the Vineyard. It will be a small wedding at Abby’s and Lamb’s, just family—her father and Frankie, Gus’s parents, his brother and sister-in-law, his sister and her boyfriend—and a few close friends. Maia and Paisley joke that maybe one or the other will fall for Daniel. Vix tells them not to count on it.

  They’ll be married in the garden by a judge from Boston, the same one who married Abby and Lamb fifteen years ago.

  A week after Maizie’s first birthday, about the same time Vix and Gus are returning from Key West, Caitlin takes the ferry to Woods Hole, drives to Cambridge with Maizie, and asks Abby and Lamb to watch her for the day while she does some shopping. She calls at six to ask if they can keep Maizie overnight. She’s run into an old friend and they’d like to have dinner together. She doesn’t add that dinner will be on a plane en route to Paris. But when she next calls that’s where she is. She promises to return in a week, two at the most. Two weeks turns into two months, two months into two years.

  Bru

  HE SHOULD HAVE seen it coming. Maybe he just didn’t want to. Maybe that was it. That would be like him. Ignore all the signs. But something was wrong from the start. As soon as the wedding was over she changed. He figured it was the pregnancy. Too soon, maybe. And sick every day. But he knew she’d love being a mother. Babies. That’s what they all wanted. His cousins complained that once there was a baby around forget it … no more sex.

  Problem was, she was never like other women. Didn’t take to motherhood. Something unnatural about that. And the sex thing … she still wanted it. Even more than before. Every day, sometimes twice a day. But taking care of a baby at night wiped him out. Not that she noticed. Honey, fuck me … fuck me, hard. Hurt me, honey …

  What did that mean? It wasn’t right. They were married. She was a mother. He didn’t like it when she talked that way. Especially the hurt me part. He’d never wanted to hurt her. Never wanted to hurt any woman.

  What do you want? he’d asked her.

  It’s not what I want, it’s what I need.

  What … what do you need?

  A lot of loving.

  I don’t give you a lot of loving?

  She smiled at him, a come-on. You do, honey … you give me a lot of loving.

  Then what? What are you asking for?

  Everything.

  You’ve got everything.

  She gave him a sad smile.

  You need vitamins, he told her. Vitamins with minerals. She laughed.

  He didn’t care. And you need to get out of the house more. A job maybe …

  I have a job. I’m your wife. I’m Maizie’s mother.

  Trisha

  SHE SHOULD HAVE spent more time with Caitlin after Maizie was born but she was so busy building her dream house with Arthur. Lamb was right. As soon as he’d set her free her life turned around. Of course, if Lamb had chosen her over Phoebe way back when, if she’d had his children, none of this would have happened. But what’s the point in going on about that now?

  Bru looks dazed. The way he looked in church on his wedding day. But did he have to start up with Star again … and so soon? As if Caitlin hadn’t happened, as if Maizie hadn’t?

  It’s all getting to be too much for her … Lamb and his family. But Maizie is so sweet. She’d love to have a baby with Arthur. Is it too late? Maybe they can adopt. Suppose Caitlin had left Maizie with them?

  EVERYONE ASSUMES VIX knows more than she’s saying, that Caitlin still confides in her. She can tell they don’t really believe it when she swears she doesn’t have a clue. She’s in shock like the rest of them. But at least they know Caitlin is more or less okay. Lamb hired a detective who tracked her down in Barcelona. She signed divorce papers so Bru is free to marry Star, who’s seven months pregnant. He didn’t waste any time. Vix hates him for that.

  How ironic that Caitlin chose to leave her baby with Abby. Or maybe it’s what she always wanted for herself —to live with Lamb and Abby, to have a real sense of family—but out of some kind of loyalty to Phoebe she felt she couldn’t.

  Whenever they visit the Vineyard she and Gus stay in Caitlin’s room. Across the hall, in the room the Chicago Boys once shared, is the nursery, where Maizie sleeps clutching a pink pig.

  Phoebe

  FRANKLY, SHE CAN’T BELIEVE IT. Not that she’d expected the marriage to work. She’d always known it was just another of Caity’s games. But Maizie. For God’s sake! Even she didn’t abandon her children. And leaving her with Lamb and Abby. What kind of statement was that?

  Oh, please … don’t tell her Caity wasn’t well loved! Don’t give her simplistic explanations. While she might not have been the most nurturing parent in the history of the universe, she was there, for crissakes! And Caity knew Lamb adored her. No, it’s something else. Some flaw. She wishes she could put her finger on it. Vix must know but she’s not talking.

  She’ll try to see Caity this summer. She’s already changed her plans to include Barcelona. Barcelona of all places. Why not Venice or Paris?

  Lamb

  HE LIVES WITH A terrible feeling in his gut twenty-four hours a day. He gobbles Maalox tablets by the handful. He cries at the drop of a hat. He can’t understand what’s happened.

/>   Abby is careful not to blame him, not to blame anyone. Phoebe calls it wanderlust. Some people are born with it, she tells him. Whatever it is, he’s not sure he can bear it.

  She refused to see him in Barcelona. Sent a messenger to his hotel with the name and address of a lawyer in New York instead. Refused to see him! His precious daughter. How can he help her if she won’t let him? He’ll forgive her anything. He just wants her to come home. Come home, Caitlin, and be a mother to your baby!

  Sharkey

  What did they expect?

  Abby

  SHE THINKS OF Grandmother Somers in her forties, taking in Dorset and Lamb. She’s past fifty, menopausal, but feels young, younger than she has in years. And more relaxed. Maybe it’s the hormones. Maybe it’s Maizie.

  It’s as if she and Lamb have changed places. He’s the anxious one now, carrying around a baby monitor, checking on Maizie three or four times during the night. Sometimes she’ll find him standing over Maizie’s crib, watching her breathe, tears streaming down his face.

  He’s listening to the Beatles again, for the first time since John Lennon was killed. She tries to reassure him. Maizie will be fine. She’ll grow up strong and confident, surrounded by loving adults, with cousins and step-siblings for company. They’ll set limits, guide her, teach her to be responsible. But the way he looks at her when she talks about Maizie’s future breaks her heart.

  She dreads the day Caitlin comes waltzing back into their lives, expecting to take Maizie away with her. Even though Caitlin has signed the papers relinquishing all rights—giving her and Lamb physical custody, while they share legal custody with Bru—she knows biological mothers have an edge in court. But she won’t give up Maizie easily!

  Well, Abby … her own mother says, you’ve finally got your little girl.

  46

  JUST BEFORE HER thirtieth birthday Vix receives an airline ticket in the mail, a ticket to Milan with train connections to Venice, along with a note:

  Celebrate the Big Three-O With Me!

  Vix is beside herself. Gus asks, “Do you want to see her?”

  She’s almost six months pregnant with their first child. She can’t decide what to do. Can she ever forgive Caitlin for leaving Maizie? “I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe. I think so. Yes.”

  “If the doctor says it’s okay,” he says, kissing her neck, “it’s okay with me. I’m not worried you won’t come back.”

  In Venice, Caitlin meets her at the train station. Caitlin is all in white, her hair tucked inside a wide-brimmed straw hat. She’s wearing huge designer shades and is carrying a second hat for Vix, who’s boiling in a blue denim maternity dress. The conductor helps her off the train with her bag. “God, Vix …” Caitlin says, hugging her, “you look so …” Vix expects her to say grownup but instead she says, pregnant. They both laugh.

  Caitlin plunks the straw hat on Vix’s head and carries her bag to a waiting boat that whisks them to the Gritti Palace, on the Grand Canal.

  Their room, overlooking the canal, is huge and the bed linens are actually made of linen. They have two bathrooms, one for each of them. The floor is stone and helps to keep the room cool. Everything is clean, spare, yet unbelievably luxurious. It could be years before she and Gus can afford such a trip, if ever. She gets pangs thinking of him in New York, going to work every day, while she is here in the most romantic city in the world.

  Caitlin’s Italian sounds like the real thing. Everyone she speaks to responds not as if she’s some American tourist but as if she’s a native, a northern Italian blonde. Forget bare dirty feet, forget the Dingleberry Award. This Caitlin is elegant. Heads turn to follow her.

  She sets up rules. “I get to ask questions, you don’t.” Vix nods. If that’s the way she wants it. Besides, she’s always learned more by just listening. Caitlin wants to hear about her life, about her marriage, her work. Vix waits for her to ask about Maizie.

  They venture out only in the morning and again at night. She discovers the Italians love pregnant women. No one can do enough for her, including Caitlin, who acts as her private tour guide. They take gondolas the way Paisley takes cabs in New York. They do the cathedrals, the ancient Jewish sector, the Peggy Guggenheim museum, where Caitlin snaps a photo of Vix atop the statue of a well-hung donkey. Caitlin even takes her across the canal by private boat to swim at the Hotel Cipriani, where she knows the manager. At night they meander down narrow cobblestone alleyways to tiny restaurants that should be impossible to find, where they eat freshly prepared fish and delicious pastas.

  In the afternoons they close the old wooden shutters in their room and take a long siesta. One day Vix awakens to find Caitlin sitting beside her. “What?” she asks.

  Caitlin smiles. “You.” She rests her hand on Vix’s belly. “This.”

  “I love being pregnant,” Vix says.

  “Tell me about Maizie,” Caitlin says softly.

  “She’s wonderful … sweet, bright …”

  “Does she look like me?”

  “She’s lovely, if that’s what you mean. I brought pictures … ”

  Vix reaches for her bag but before she can open it, Caitlin says, “Not yet. I can’t do this yet … okay?”

  Vix mouths her answer without saying it. Okay.

  On the final morning of Vix’s visit, Caitlin says, “I’d like to see those pictures now.” They’re having breakfast in their room, with the shutters thrown open so they can watch the boats gliding gracefully along the canal.

  Vix hands the photos of Maizie to Caitlin and watches as she carefully studies each one. “Is she sad?” Caitlin asks. “She looks sad in this picture.”

  “Sad? No. She’s quiet, sensitive, but I wouldn’t describe her as sad. She loves to hear stories about you.”

  “What do you tell her?”

  “About us … when we were young. I take her to the Flying Horses. She calls her favorite horse Mudhead.”

  Caitlin looks away for a minute. “Is she okay with Abby and Lamb?”

  “Abby’s a …” She’s about to say that Abby is a good mother, a loving mother, but that would imply Caitlin wasn’t, so she stops herself.

  “I always thought Abby would be a good mother if she weren’t so intense.”

  “She’s more relaxed with Maizie.”

  Caitlin nods. “What about Bru?”

  “He spends time with her, especially in summer.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Married to Star, from the health food store. He always had a thing for vitamins.”

  They laugh for a minute then Caitlin grows serious again. “Do they have …”

  “A boy and she’s pregnant again.”

  Caitlin sips her cappuccino. This can’t be easy for her but Vix reminds herself she’s the one who left.

  “What about you …” Caitlin asks. “Are you happy?”

  Vix holds her belly. She thinks about how lucky she is to have Gus, the baby that’s coming. Her life is filled with friendship and love. She gets teary and homesick thinking of all of them. “Yes, I’m happy,” she tells Caitlin.

  “No regrets?”

  “Regrets?”

  “About Bru …”

  Bru? It’s funny, because when she sees him now he’s more like an old friend than a lover. They talk about Maizie, about the building bust of the late eighties and early nineties. Business is picking up again since the President vacationed on the Vineyard two summers in a row. The islanders gripe about the influx of the rich and famous, but the rich and famous are good for the local economy.

  “No regrets about Bru,” she tells Caitlin. But she does have regrets. She regrets that Nathan’s life was cut short, that she and Lanie and Lewis aren’t close. Most of all, she regrets that Caitlin couldn’t confide in her, couldn’t ask for her support, because she understands now that Caitlin must have been deeply troubled to walk out on Bru, to leave Maizie. So she says, “I have regrets about you.”

  “Me?” Caitlin says.

/>   “That you couldn’t come to me when you were struggling,” Vix tells her, “when you were in pain.”

  “You think I was struggling? You think I was in pain?”

  Vix nods.

  “Why can’t you see me for what I am?” Caitlin asks. “A self-centered bitch who doesn’t give a flying fuck about anybody but herself, who takes off when the going gets tough, who lies and cheats to get what she wants … who lies to her best friend just to stay ahead of the game.”

  “No,” Vix tells her, “that’s not who you are.”

  “I did Maizie the best favor I could by leaving.”

  Vix shakes her head.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me how I could do it … how I could abandon my own child? Aren’t you going to tell me what a fuckup I am?”

  “I don’t have to,” Vix says softly.

  Caitlin’s face crumples and she begins to cry. “I’m useless, worse than Phoebe ever was.”

  Vix holds her, strokes her hair, tries to comfort her.

  “How can you care about me after all I’ve done to you?”

  “To me? I don’t think that’s the issue …”

  “But it is. I used you. I took everything I could from you.”

  “I never saw it that way. I was grateful just to be your friend.”