Since Last Summer

“Yeah?” Thayer said.

  “Some buddies of mine from St. Paul’s go there. Let me know if you want their e-mails.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “And is everything all right with your dad?”

  “My dad?” Connor asked. “What do you mean?”

  “Honey, don’t bother them with that now,” Mrs. Quinlan said in her raspy voice, looking embarrassed. “We should really get in line.”

  “I’m just asking. You were the one who told me about it,” she said to her mom.

  Mrs. Quinlan smiled. “I finally got my real estate license,” she explained. “And the place on Gibson Lane in Sagaponack that was empty for years? Well, I heard there was a new tenant.”

  “Your dad,” Thayer said, with obvious relish. “What’s he doing there?”

  Everyone was silent. Rory looked from Connor to Isabel, wondering who was going to take up the challenge.

  “He and my mom are separated,” Isabel said flatly. “And they’re probably getting a divorce. Like, any minute. Anything else you want to know?”

  Thayer smiled as if she’d expected this answer all along. Mrs. Quinlan looked anxious. “We really need to get back home, honey. Your father’s probably starving.” She put her hand on Isabel’s shoulder again. “It was so good to run into you, sweetie. Really. Come by anytime. We’d love it.”

  Rory looked over at Connor. His eyes looked like they were boring holes into his sister’s face, and his lips were pursed and thin, almost drained of color.

  “Okay,” Thayer said, with the barest smirk. “It was great seeing you, Connor. And sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

  “Rory,” she said.

  “Right, Rory,” Thayer said. “See ya.”

  Mother and daughter walked away toward the back of the line, leaving the three of them alone near the smoked-fish display. Connor immediately walked off toward the doors, leaving both Rory and Isabel in his wake.

  “Where’s he going?” Isabel asked.

  Rory shook her head. “No clue.”

  They followed him out of the store and found him speed walking down the street, wading through a crowd of families, strollers, and dogs.

  “Connor, calm down,” Isabel said.

  He wheeled around. “Are you crazy?” he asked. “What is wrong with you? Why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s the truth,” Isabel said. “It’s not like people aren’t going to find out.”

  “But why would you hand it to them like that on a silver platter? Why not send an e-mail around the town with the whole story? Don’t you know how fast that’s going to get around? Right before the party tonight?”

  “Connor, calm down,” Rory said.

  “They obviously knew something was up,” Isabel said. “Why do you have this obsession with defending Mom and Dad?”

  “Because I care about this family.”

  “Connor, let it go. Drop the perfect-son routine. You’re not going to get any points.” She lowered her voice. “And you know that Mom had an affair. Don’t you?”

  Connor’s eyes flashed. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  “It has everything to do with everything,” Isabel said. “They screwed up, and now they’re too chickenshit to come out to the world and admit all their mistakes. So they’re trying to recruit all of us to bail them out. It’s sick.”

  “You would believe the worst about them,” Connor said, turning away.

  “I don’t have to believe it.” Isabel’s voice turned flinty. “I have proof.”

  “You have proof?” he asked, disgust lacing his voice. “Like what?”

  Isabel darted her eyes at Rory.

  Connor turned toward Rory. “Do you know something about this?”

  “No,” Rory said, looking down. “I don’t know anything.”

  “Then why did she look at you like that?”

  “Isabel’s just trying to be honest,” Rory said. “She’s not trying to cause trouble or be crazy or any of that other stuff you think.”

  “What do you mean, be honest?” he said. “What do you know?”

  “N-nothing,” she said.

  “Stop being so immature,” Isabel said. “She didn’t do anything.”

  “She’s my girlfriend. She’s supposed to be on my side,” Connor said. He turned back to Rory. “I don’t get it. What is it you know about all this?”

  “She knows nothing, okay?” Isabel cut in. “But even if I were to tell you, you wouldn’t be able to hear it. You’re in too much denial.”

  “Right, I’m in denial,” Connor said. “You want to know why you can’t hang on to any of your friends? Because you alienate everyone in your life. You push people away. And you don’t even see it.”

  Rory’s stomach ached, and her head felt light. “Connor, don’t be mad. Come on.”

  “No, I think I need to be alone for a little bit,” he said, stepping away from her outstretched hand. “I’ll see you later.” He crossed Main Street just as the light was about to turn, and headed down Newtown Lane. Then he slipped into an alley toward the parking lot and was gone.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Isabel said.

  “Why did you say that to Thayer, in front of him? You must have known that he was going to freak out.”

  “Connor needs to face reality. And if you’re not going to make him do that, then it may as well be me.”

  “Not everyone needs to be improved, Isabel. Sometimes people are getting by the best way they can.”

  “Oh, come off it, Ror,” Isabel said. “I know you’re not happy. It’s so obvious. But you’re just like him. Always wanting to put on this perfect display.”

  “Maybe I’m just trying to make things work.”

  “No, maybe you’re a doormat,” Isabel said.

  “A doormat?” Rory asked.

  “Yeah. I don’t know what happened to you. Last summer you were so kick-ass. You did your own thing. I looked up to you. You didn’t care about changing who you were for a guy. Now you have a boyfriend, and it’s like you’ve become a robot.”

  “Lay off me, okay?” Rory snapped. “I’m sick of watching you act like a spoiled brat. Yeah, okay, you’ve been dealt a rough hand. So have I. And you don’t see me taking it out on the entire world.”

  Rory watched as Isabel set her face in the same disgusted, haughty, and totally over-it stare that she’d given Rory the first day they met. “Fine,” she spat. “I’m out of here.”

  She crossed the street with her head held high, swinging her shopping bag like she didn’t have a care in the world. She was so much like her mother, Rory realized. Both of them always needing to have the last word. Both of them so lonely, but always pushing people away.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Isabel threw the shopping bag in the car. She barely noticed as her new dress spilled across the backseat in folds of blue silk and then finally slipped down onto the floor of the car. She pulled out of the lot and turned east on Montauk Highway, speeding toward Amagansett. The words spoiled brat rang in her head, making her grip the steering wheel. So that was what Rory thought of her. At least it was better than being a coward. Rory and Connor deserved each other.

  She drove through Amagansett without stopping. She wasn’t sure where she was headed, except that to go in the other direction, toward home, would feel like defeat. Eventually the shops and the homes fell away, and the road became pure highway, just blue sky and green trees on either side of her, a straight shot toward Montauk and the farthest end of Long Island. Ditch Plains would make her feel better. She was pretty sure that she had a suit in the trunk. The pink-painted structure of Buford’s Lobster Shack appeared on her right and then vanished behind her. Another reason to think of Mike. All of this was his fault. If he’d only been a decent guy to her last summer, then maybe she wouldn’t have taken the news about Mr. Knox so hard. She had Evan, she remembered, but she wasn’t sure that she wanted him anymore.

  She reached Montauk and drove through town,
toward the nondescript street that led to the permitless parking lot for Ditch Plains. She changed into her suit lying down on the backseat, grabbed a towel from the trunk, and got out. The ocean breeze was cool in the midday sun, and as she headed toward the sound of pounding surf, she felt her breath start to come more easily. Ditch Plains looked exactly the same. The pebbled beach looked inviting, filled with young children and couples and dogs. A flock of surfers floated on top of their boards in the lineup, waiting their turn.

  She wished now that she had a board and her wet suit. Today would be perfect for surfing. And then she remembered—Mike worked in the surfboard store in town. He would rent her a board, maybe even for free. He certainly owed her that.

  She turned on her heels and walked back to her car, ignoring the voice that told her that this was a really, really bad idea. She drove into town and pulled over at the first surfboard store she saw. From her parked car she could see the panoply of wet suits hanging above the open door and the stack of neon-colored shortboards leaning against the store window. This had to be the one. Now if only she knew exactly what to say to him. Or what she wanted him to say to her.

  She got out of the car, and realized with a start that she was still wearing only her bikini and flip-flops. Whatever, she thought. That very first day they’d met he’d seen her topless, so what did it matter now? She slammed the door and made her way toward the store. She hoped this place had a bathroom.

  The store was narrow and deep and crowded with racks of wet suits, stacks of surfboards, and snowboards hanging on the walls. She pulled off her sunglasses and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. Sublime played on the speakers, and the air was thick with the smell of brand-new neoprene and cocoa-butter suntan lotion.

  “Can I help you?” Mike stepped out from behind a rack of wet suits and brushed a wavy lock of hair out of his eyes. At the sight of her, he stopped short. “Isabel,” he said. “Hi.”

  “I need a surfboard,” she said without preamble. “And a wet suit. To rent, if you have it.”

  His eyes traveled the length of her half-naked body. “Where are you surfing?”

  “Ditch Plains. I forgot my stuff.”

  “Okay. You want a shortboard?”

  “Sure,” she said. A blast of air-conditioning hit her from up high, and she put her arms around herself. The last thing she needed was to have crazy headlights in front of Mike right now.

  “You cold?” he asked. “You want a rash guard?”

  “I’m okay. Just the board and the wet suit. And do you have a bathroom?”

  “Yeah, it’s in back,” he said, pointing.

  She marched to the back of the store, past another sales clerk who sat behind the counter, engrossed in a game on his iPhone. She guessed that the door in the wall led to the bathroom, and she was right. The walls were covered with stickers advertising boards, wet suits, and surf wax, and the sink and toilet looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in several years. It reminded her of that first time she’d gone to Mike’s house and hid in the bathroom during his surprise party. The mess had been appalling, and also weirdly sexy. If only I’d known, she thought, running some water over her face. Of course his place of work would be just as filthy. Why had she come here? She was so confused. All she wanted to do right now was go home. This had been a mistake.

  When she emerged from the bathroom, the other sales clerk was gone, and Mike was waiting for her at the counter with a wet suit and yellow shortboard. “I think this should be it,” he said. “What do you think?”

  She avoided his gaze and looked at the merchandise. “Looks good.” She pulled out her credit card and handed it to him. “Here.”

  Mike took her card and then looked at her closely, cocking his head. “Isabel, are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “You seem like you’re having a pretty bad day, that’s all.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “You want to tell me about it?” he asked, swiping her card.

  “Not especially.”

  He didn’t seem fazed.

  “Stuff with my family,” she admitted.

  “Like what?” he asked.

  “Do you really think that I’m going to confide in you?”

  “Well, you’re here, right?” he asked, giving her a knowing smile.

  “I needed a board and a wet suit,” she said evenly.

  “Right,” Mike said. “Of course. Well, don’t let me keep you, then.” He handed her the credit-card slip to sign.

  “So now you want me to be your friend?” she asked. “Now you’re interested in chitchat?”

  “Well, you came in, didn’t you?”

  “Not because I needed to talk to you,” she said.

  “Right. So this was all just an accident.”

  “No more of an accident than you coming into my restaurant,” she said. She signed the credit-card slip.

  “Actually, that was an accident. My cousin Tony happens to like the food there.” Mike pulled off her copy of the slip. “Here’s your receipt.”

  Isabel stared at the receipt. “So I don’t get it,” she said. “You give me this whole speech about how you miss me and how you want another chance. And then I see you at my place of work, and you act like you barely know me.”

  “What did you want me to do?” Mike asked. “You told me at the Ripcurl that you have a boyfriend.”

  “So?” she snapped.

  Mike shook his head. “Maybe you need to get in the water and just take a minute.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” she said, feeling her anger at Connor and Rory escalate into fury. “And why would I want to give you another chance? You didn’t want to meet my parents. You left town as soon as we started sleeping together. Everything I told you about my life, you didn’t seem to care. Oh, and let’s not forget, you were just trying to get info out of me for your family. So, tell me. Why would I want to give Mike Castelloni another chance?”

  Mike didn’t say anything.

  “Because I’ll tell you something,” she said. “I do not miss you.”

  “Yeah, you do,” he said softly.

  Rage sizzled through her. She snatched the credit-card slip out of his hand. “Gimme my card back. Now.”

  Mike handed it back to her. “Isabel—”

  Before he could finish, she headed for the door. She got into her car, slammed the door, and drove out of the parking lot with so much abandon that she didn’t even remember her surfboard until she was halfway home.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Connor’s car was still missing. Rory walked around to the front of the house and looked down the long gravel drive. Any moment now, she expected to see a silver Audi round the corner and come zooming down the path, but there was nothing. She turned around and limped her way back across the gravel. The healed blister on her heel had opened up again during her walk home from town that afternoon. Of course, there was always the possibility that Connor might not come home at all. In some ways, she would admire that. Skipping his mom’s birthday party seemed like a step in the right direction. But the idea that he would be upset enough to leave her alone for the rest of the night, without so much as a text, made her deeply sad.

  She walked back toward the house, past a line of valets wearing black vests and red cummerbunds, fidgeting like teenage guys suited up for the prom. They all looked at her as she went past. She’d settled for wearing the too-short Calypso dress she’d worn to the Georgica the first night. Inside, she could hear the cater waiters in the kitchen, opening and shutting the oven and slamming aluminum baking trays on the island. A cater waiter in a white tux blew through the swinging door, carrying a chafing dish. He turned and smiled at her. Rory mustered a smile in return. She felt completely useless. At least last summer Bianca had given her those dumb candles to light and then float on the surface of the pool. Now she had nothing to do except stalk around the house by herself—a summer guest not on speaking terms with half the people in this ho
use.

  “Rory, are you down there?” Mrs. Rule called.

  “Yes?” she yelled.

  “Can you come up here and help me with something, please? I’m in my room.”

  Apparently there was one person in the house whom she was still on good terms with. She slipped off her heels and held them in her hand as she limped up the stairs, murmuring “Ow” with every step.

  Upstairs she slipped her shoes back on and knocked on Mrs. Rule’s door, which stood slightly ajar.

  “Come in, said a voice.”

  Rory pushed open the door and found Mrs. Rule in the center of the room, wearing a floor-length, one-shoulder gown with a high slit up one leg. If Mrs. Rule’s objective tonight was to look like she was attending a red carpet soiree, she’d definitely succeeded.

  “Does this look okay?” Mrs. Rule said, doing a complete turn so that the dress swished up at the ankles. “Is it too much?”

  “It’s very pretty,” she said.

  Mrs. Rule stopped and examined herself in the full-length mirror. She seemed to like what she saw. “Good,” she said. “I wasn’t sure. Thought it might be too much.”

  “Oh no,” Rory said.

  “Is Mr. Rule here yet?”

  “I haven’t seen him.”

  “Could you go down and make sure he’s here? And then let him know that I’d like him to come up here in about ten minutes? We should make our entrance together.” Mrs. Rule went to her satin-skirted vanity table and pulled out a thick gold-and-pearl-encrusted bracelet from a box.

  “Maybe it would be better for you to ask one of your kids to do that,” Rory said.

  Mrs. Rule looked at her with surprise. “Do you know where Connor is? I asked him to get me some things this afternoon, and he never came back to the house.”

  Rory bit her lip. “I don’t.”

  “You don’t?”

  “We decided to take some time to ourselves today,” she said, trying to sound breezy.

  Mrs. Rule gave Rory a knowing look. “One thing about men is that they always need to know that they’re right. You just tell him that you’re sorry, and it will all be fine.”

  That didn’t quite work out for you and Mr. Rule, Rory felt like saying.