Rules of Summer

  “For no reason. Just doesn’t want to see me anymore. Won’t tell me why, won’t tell me anything. And I came back here, needing to talk to you. But I guess you had more important things to do.” Isabel threw open the door.

  “Isabel, please don’t be mad.”

  “Oh, please,” Isabel snapped. “Just stay away from me, okay?”

  Rory watched her slam the door, so hard the copy of A Confederacy of Dunces slipped off the nightstand and fell to the ground.

  AUGUST

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “So did you guys hear the big news?” Thayer murmured as she squeezed a fat slice of lemon into her iced tea. “Tatiana and Link Gould are getting a divorce.”

  “No way,” Darwin said, pulling her hair into a ponytail. “Because he’s cheating on her?”

  “No, because she’s cheating on him,” Thayer said with as much gleeful emotion as her monotone could handle. “He caught her in bed with an Argentinean polo player. Isn’t that awesome? And terrible, at the same time?”

  “Wow,” Darwin said. “What’s she going to do now? Who’s going to want her?”

  “Yeah, totally,” Isabel said listlessly. She looked up from her Cobb salad and saw Thayer and Darwin eye her with faint suspicion and then nod in agreement. She’d passed inspection.

  Ever since she’d started eating lunch again with Thayer and Darwin, she’d found that all she needed to do was just agree with whatever stupid thing came out of their mouths and they’d leave her alone. Of course, she’d had to do a little bowing and scraping in the beginning. She’d gone up to their table that first day with her tray, said simply “We broke up,” and then sat down and spilled a few pertinent details. Mostly that Mike was a “total jerk” and that they’d had a “massive fight” where she’d finally realized that he was “totally from another planet” and that she was “better off without him.” At first, Thayer and Darwin listened in cold, skeptical silence, and then when they were convinced that Isabel really might have been genuinely hurt, they grudgingly asked questions. After that came the smug assurances that they’d seen this coming all along. A guy from the North Fork? A surfer? “Please,” Thayer had said. “Of course he was bad news.”

  When she told them about Rory and Connor, however, they were actually incensed.

  “How could she do that to you?” Darwin demanded.

  “Did you catch them together?” Thayer wanted to know.

  “Do you think she’s a gold digger?” Darwin asked.

  She managed to wave off their indignation with a shrug and an “I really don’t want to talk about it.” And just like that, she was back in the circle, sitting with them, gossiping and picking at her salad—to any casual observer, still the alpha princess of the Georgica. But there was little comfort for her in appearances anymore.

  “So Anna Lucia saw your brother and that girl walking out of the movie theater last night. Holding hands.”

  “That’s nice,” Isabel said, poking at a lettuce leaf.

  “What do your parents think of it?” Darwin asked.

  Isabel gave it another shrug. “They’re not thrilled. I stay out of it.”

  “There’s just something so gross about that,” Darwin said, wrinkling her nose. “One of your friends, going after your brother? I mean, I think Connor is really cute, but I would never, ever do that. That’s something you just don’t do.”

  Isabel eyed Darwin closely. “You think Connor’s hot?”

  “Well, you know what I’m saying,” Darwin hedged. “You must have felt so betrayed. I mean, the way she chewed us out you’d think she was your bodyguard or something.”

  “Yeah, she was obviously doing that out of guilt,” Thayer said. “Now you might want to think about getting back together with Aston. He asked about you the other day.”

  “Oh?” Isabel asked, pretending to sound interested.

  “Go back to him, Isabel,” Darwin said. “He’s just so much more your type.”

  Isabel put down her fork. She had no idea what her type was anymore. “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “But why not?” Thayer asked. “You’re just so stubborn. Let him take you out and treat you like a princess again. Sounds like you could use that.”

  “Whenever you really fall in love with someone, it’s never really worth it,” Darwin opined. “That’s what my mom always says. You can’t ever let yourself get too into a guy. She says that the guy always has to be more into you than you’re into him.”

  “That is such bullshit.”

  Isabel watched Thayer and Darwin exchange a glance.

  “Look at Tatiana,” she went on. “I mean, what didn’t she do to hold on to Link? What game didn’t she play with him? And it still didn’t work. That’s not a real relationship. You shouldn’t have to play games with someone who really loves you.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence, and then Darwin giggled. “Wow. You’re like a walking self-help book,” she said.

  “Maybe I am, but I want to love someone as much as they love me.”

  Her friends stared at her, clearly unsure of what to say in response to something so insane.

  Isabel put down her fork. “Whatever,” she said. “I should probably go. I have my driving test out in Riverhead.”

  “Who’s taking you?” Thayer asked.

  Isabel realized that she had no idea. Up until now she’d always assumed that Rory would drive her. “I’m not sure.”

  “Don’t look at me,” said Thayer, pulling her wide-brimmed hat further over her eyes. “I am not fighting that traffic.”

  “Me, neither.” Darwin laughed. “And Riverhead kind of depresses me.”

  Isabel stood up and grabbed her bag. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to walk, then,” she said.

  Darwin giggled. “Don’t be mad, Iz.”

  “Whatever. See you guys later,” Isabel said, and turned around.

  “Good luck!” Thayer called out, in a way that made Isabel’s skin crawl.

  Isabel trudged up the hill to the main house, back to where she’d left her bike locked to the rack. Out of pure habit, she pulled her phone out of her bag. No text from Mike. It had been ten days now. It was time to face that this relationship was totally and completely over. And she would never know why. The staggering injustice of this was almost worse than the loss of him. How was she supposed to move on from being dumped when she would never know why it had happened in the first place?

  Or maybe there is no reason, she thought. Maybe people’s feelings just change, and there is nothing you can do about it. She walked into the cool, dim lobby and sat down on one of the chintz-covered love seats. Maybe she could still text him. True, it was a desperate move, and something that only the most pathetic, clueless, and non-mysterious girls resorted to in times like this. But she needed to know why he’d done it. Who cared what it looked like? What else did she have to lose at this point?

  Quickly, she typed out the text.

  Hey. Think we need to talk. Call me.

  She pressed send before she could chicken out. The bubble turned green on the screen, marking it as final and irrevocable. She forced herself to put the phone away and stared at the swirl of pattern on the rug. Now she knew what Aston March had felt that night a year ago on Madeleine Fuller’s lawn, and what all the other guys she’d left so coldly had felt: the devastation, the helplessness, the blindsidedness. She’d pitied them at the time, and now she understood.

  The sound of high-pitched laughter pulled her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see Holly Knox and two other girls breeze through the main doors, oblivious to the rest of the world as they giggled and talked. Isabel stared at Holly as she walked by. Yes, the similarity between them was uncanny.

  Mr. Knox followed the girls into the lobby, dressed for golf. “Isabel,” he said. “How are you? Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  His kindness was so touching that for a moment she thought she might actually break down and cry. “Yeah. It’s beautiful.??
? She stood up and walked over to him, then stopped, suddenly feeling too vulnerable to say anything more.

  “You okay?” he asked, regarding her with concern.

  “I have a driving test in Riverhead. And I need a ride. Can you take me?”

  Mr. Knox scratched the side of his head. It was a gamble, but something told her that this man was kind enough to actually consider doing this.

  Finally, he dug into his back pocket and produced a ticket stub. “Give this to the valet while I go tell the girls,” he said, placing the stub in her palm.

  “Thank you,” she said, afraid she might cry. “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re very welcome,” he said almost formally, and then hurried through the lobby.

  Rory sat with Connor on the bench in front of Starbucks, sipping an iced latte and watching the cars inch up and down Main Street. Throngs of people strolled along the sidewalks, looking in the windows of Tiffany and Ralph Lauren. Suddenly, a white stretch limo moved past them in the traffic, as slow and ponderous as a whale.

  “It really does get so much more crowded in August,” Rory said.

  “And it’s only gonna get worse,” Connor said. “Just wait ’til Labor Day. You don’t even want to come near town.”

  Rory took another sip of her cool drink as Connor put his arm around her. Feeling his touch still sent a thrill through her. “I think we need to talk about some stuff,” she said.

  “Isabel,” Connor said.

  “She still isn’t talking to me,” Rory said, playing with her rope bracelet. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I told you that they’d just need a little more time,” Connor said. “And you know I’ve told my mom that it makes me really uncomfortable that you’re still running around doing errands for them.”

  “I don’t even mind that,” Rory said. “I just wish Isabel would talk to me. She won’t even look at me if I pass her. And your mom won’t, either. She’s never even acknowledged that we’re going out.”

  “I told you, don’t worry about her,” Connor said, squeezing her shoulder. “I wish she weren’t such a snob. My dad is fine with it.”

  “That’s good,” Rory said. “I’m just bummed about Isabel. The one person who could really vouch for us sort of hates me. But it was sort of my fault. I know I should have told her before.”

  “We have to stick it out,” Connor said. “That’s the only way. We’re not doing anything wrong, Rory.”

  He looked over at her, and Rory brushed away the lock of hair that always fell over his forehead. He’s my boyfriend, she thought. And if this is what I have to put up with to be with him, then fine. Still, the sacrifice she’d made for this relationship made her wonder sometimes.

  “This’ll blow over, I promise,” Connor said. “Just don’t worry.”

  Rory leaned her head on his shoulder as a meager breeze cooled her hot skin. “I just wish you didn’t have to go away tonight.”

  “It’s just for one night,” he said. “And Block Island really isn’t that far away.”

  “It’s a ferry ride,” Rory said. “You’re going over water. I can’t even drive there if I need to.”

  “Just hang out with Fee,” Connor said. “And I’ll be home before you know it.”

  He leaned down and kissed her. She snuggled further into his arms, which always surprised her with how safe they made her feel.

  “You better get on your way,” she said. “I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you more,” he said, and kissed her again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Rory banged open the back door of the house, trying to get all the groceries and the dry cleaning into the hall in one trip. After saying good-bye to Connor in town, she’d done a run to Citarella and the East Hampton IGA, and then she’d dropped by Sweetwater’s to pick up Mrs. Rule’s cleaned clothes, even though she knew she didn’t need to get them until tomorrow. It couldn’t hurt to do a little bit extra these days, considering the state of things in this house at the moment. One more awkward look from Mrs. Rule and Bianca and she thought that she might finally sneak off to the train station and just go home. She schlepped the bags and the plastic-covered clothes down the hall, watching Trixie bob and weave around her feet. As soon as she dropped this all off in the kitchen, she’d take her out for a run.

  She pushed through the kitchen door with the bags and was already at the counter when she noticed Mrs. Rule sitting alone in front of her laptop at the butcher-block table. Her fingers stopped moving as soon as Rory entered.

  “Sorry,” Rory said. “I’ll just put these away real quick.”

  Mrs. Rule barely looked up from the screen. Rory heaved the bags onto the counter. She needed to get this over with in a hurry.

  “And this is your dry cleaning,” she said, holding up the hangers. “Would you like me to take it upstairs?”

  “No, that’s all right. You can just leave it on the chair there,” Mrs. Rule said. To Rory’s relief, she went back to typing.

  Rory opened cabinets and drawers and the refrigerator, putting away the jars of fig chutney and truffle oil and the paper-wrapped free-range organic chicken breasts.

  With a sharp snap, Mrs. Rule closed her laptop. “Rory, can I speak to you a moment?” she asked.

  Rory stopped what she was doing and slowly turned around. Mrs. Rule brushed away some dust from the table and then examined the tips of her fingers. “Have you had a nice summer here?” she asked with a smile.

  “Yes,” Rory said. “I’ve had a great summer.”

  “Good,” Mrs. Rule said, resting her chin on her intertwined fingers. “I’m glad. I’m glad you had a wonderful summer, Rory. It’s been good for us to have you, too.” She smiled again—that same warm, welcoming smile she’d flashed that first day. “But your mother must miss you terribly,” she said. “Along with your friends. And I think it’s time that you started making plans to go back to them. After all, it’s August now.” She paused. “What do you think?”

  Rory glanced at the center island and its bowl filled with peaches and plums. “Um, I hadn’t really thought of it yet.”

  “I just think that summers are so… important for families,” Mrs. Rule went on, stretching out her fingers and examining her nails. “And I just feel terrible depriving your mother of you, in these last few precious weeks before school starts. Do you know what I mean?”

  The hair on Rory’s arms rose up. “Uh-huh,” she said, unable to look away from Mrs. Rule’s smile.

  “So, I’ve gone ahead and let your mother know that you’ll be coming home tomorrow. And don’t you worry about train and bus fare. It’s all taken care of.”

  “You’ve let her know that?” Rory asked.

  “Mmm-hmm,” said Mrs. Rule. “I just wrote her an e-mail. Fee gave me her address. I just think it’s better for you to be back with your own friends and family, Rory. And you’ve been working so hard here. You really do need some time to relax.”

  “This is about Connor, right?” Rory said. “You don’t want me dating your son. That’s what this is about.”

  “Oh, now, come on, Rory,” she said, smiling, “do you really think I’m that vindictive? I’m just looking out for you. We are so appreciative of your help, but we really don’t need an errand girl anymore. I want you to have some fun this summer. You shouldn’t be worried about my dry cleaning.”

  Something about the emptiness of the kitchen struck Rory suddenly. “Where’s Erica?” she asked.

  “Erica’s gone,” said Mrs. Rule. “Things weren’t working out with her,” she said. She straightened a jar on the table. “Luckily, chefs are easy to replace.”

  Rory took a deep breath. “Just so you know, I understand that this is weird for you,” she said. “Me and your son. But Connor and I have feelings for each other, and that’s why we decided to come out in the open with it when we did. It’s not like we’re having a secret relationship.”

  “Well, I have it on good authority that Bianca already
found you with a boy in your room this summer,” Mrs. Rule said. “And while I wouldn’t exactly pin you as the type for that kind of thing, I’m sure you can see how that’s not the kind of girl I’d like my son to be dating.”

  Rory began to object and then remembered she couldn’t. She couldn’t sell Isabel out, not even now. “Something tells me that that isn’t the reason you disapprove,” Rory said. “Let’s just be clear about that. And I think Connor can make his own decisions about the people in his life.”

  “Possibly, but he is very susceptible to other people’s opinions,” Mrs. Rule went on. “Especially mine. Anyway, I’m sure that after a few days, he’ll understand that this is for the best.”

  “You can’t do this,” she said. “You can’t kick me out of here without talking to Connor. He’s on his way to Block Island now.”

  “Oh, is he?” Mrs. Rule asked. “I guess I forgot. And cell service is so spotty on the ferry.” Mrs. Rule smiled sympathetically. “But don’t worry. You’ve had a wonderful six weeks here, Rory. And can you imagine how awkward it would be, to say the least, if you decided not to leave?” Mrs. Rule’s eyes were ice-blue as she stared at Rory, unblinking.

  “Fine,” Rory said. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”

  “Morning,” Mrs. Rule clarified. “I have you on an eight-thirty jitney. If that works.”

  “But he won’t be back until the late afternoon. I think I’d rather say good-bye to him in person. If that works.”

  “We’ll have to play that by ear, won’t we?” Mrs. Rule said, barely able to conceal her delight. “Oh, and something else I forgot to mention. I know that we never talked about salary while you were here, but considering how much you’ve done for us, I’ve decided that I could rethink all of that. So what would you say to about twenty-five hundred dollars for the whole summer?”

  Rory let this sink in. “So you want to pay me to leave,” she said evenly.

  “I’m paying you for a job well done,” Mrs. Rule said. “And I’m sure your mother, when she reads the e-mail, will agree. Naturally I mentioned something about it to her. Just so that she wouldn’t think your time here would be completely wasted. Think about it.” She checked her watch. “Oh, it’s time for my massage. Excuse me.” She stood up and slowly walked out toward the dining room.