Moon Shell Beach: A Novel (5 page)

Lexi had jumped at the chance to spend time with her best friend. She’d thrown on shorts and a T-shirt and biked over to Clare’s. Clare’s father was off-island, doing research for his book, and Clare’s mother was already out in her studio, painting.

Now Lexi tilted her head as she let the tastes meld in her mouth. “Yeah, yeah, perhaps too much cinnamon.”

“I know. Right.” Clare grabbed a journal and scribbled notes. When she looked up at Lexi, her face was radiant. “Oh, Lexi, I’m having
so
much fun working at the gourmet shop! Especially creating new recipes. I’m toying with the idea of leaving UMass and going to a culinary college.” She buzzed around the kitchen, setting pans in to soak, wiping down the counters.

This seemed like a good time to tell Clare, Lexi decided, while they were both in a good mood and the sun shone through the window. “Well, you know, I’m not going back.”

“Back where?” Clare bent over to put a pan in the dishwasher. “La Maison?”

“College. UMass.”

Clare stood up and gawked at Lexi. “Oh, come on! You’ve got to go back, are you
kidding
me? You don’t want to clean houses forever, do you?”

Lexi took a deep breath. “Clare, my parents can’t afford it.”

“Oh.” Clare sat down in a chair with a thump. “Oh. Wow. That’s awful, Lexi.”

Lexi was grateful for her concern, but at the same time, she felt herself bristling, straightening in her chair. “Well, it’s not
tragic,
for heaven’s sake. I mean, well, look at Jesse. He’s not going to college.”

Clare snorted. “Jesse in college? Ouch, can’t even imagine it. Of course some people just aren’t meant for college, but you, Lexi, the way you love art and stuff…” She looked at Lexi with affection and sympathy. “What are you going to do?”

Lexi toyed with her fork. “I’m not sure.”

Clare squinted her eyes at Lexi. “Are you dating Hardin?”

Lexi looked away. “He wants to take me to Williamstown in September. To see the Clark Art Museum.”

“Please, Lexi. He wants to get in your pants, that’s all.”

Lexi lifted her chin defiantly. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if he did. Anyway, Clare, I don’t think that’s true. I think he likes me.”

“Lexi, come on, don’t tell me he likes you for your mind! You’re a baby compared to him!”

“No, I don’t think that. I do think he likes the way I look—and I don’t mean,” she hastened to add, “just that he wants to screw me. I think he likes it that I’m tall and lean and young. He likes being seen with me.”

“Yeah, because it’s another way of giving it to the islanders. It’s like saying, not only can I buy up your land and trash it, but I can buy up your women and trash them.”

“Clare, you’re being really harsh about him.”

“Lexi, if you want to know why, just drive out on the Polpis Road and look at his development. And it’s not as if he’s going to live here and funnel some of his gazillions back into the town, no, he’s just flying over like…like a stealth bomber or something, blasting the hell out of the land and then disappearing.”

“He’s providing tranquil places for stressed-out people,” Lexi argued weakly.

“Look,” Clare snapped, “just sleep with the man, okay? Sleep with him, so he can add another notch to his belt, and then maybe he’ll leave you alone!”

After Labor Day,
the island was suddenly quieter. Most of the summer people had gone back to their homes to ready their children for school or to gear up for work. Lexi’s cleaning jobs ended after she helped close up the houses for the off-season, and her hours at La Maison were cut drastically. She knew she had to find a full-time job, but this was just exactly the wrong season to look for one.

Perhaps because she had time on her hands, perhaps because a lot of her friends, including Clare, had left the island for college, and perhaps because she actually truly wanted to, she accepted Ed’s invitation to go to Williamstown to see the Impressionist paintings at the Clark Art Museum.

In a fit
of madness, Lexi spent half of her hard-earned money on three dresses and a pair of fabulous shoes at one of the most expensive boutiques on the island. Now, as she walked through the cool, hushed rooms of the museum with Ed at her side, she knew she looked absolutely
classy.
She saw the way other people looked at her, their eyes lingering, and she felt so elegant, so special, it almost seemed that even the eyes of the people in the portraits were looking at her, too.

That night Ed took her to a restaurant with the dark, mysterious, leathery ambience of a world-class library. The menus were even larger than the ones at La Maison, and no prices were listed. Roses floated in a low bowl in the middle of their table and candles flickered in silver holders and on sconces on walls around the room. Lexi shivered with the realization that here, now, in her marvelous, simple black dress, she must seem to others like the well-educated, well-traveled women she had waited on all summer at La Maison.

Ed gazed approvingly at Lexi. “I hope you’ve noticed, you’re the object of much admiration.”

Lexi tried to be cool. She felt both triumphant and frightened. Ed had reserved two rooms for them—with an adjoining door. She took a sip of the champagne Ed had ordered and forced herself to calm down. She wanted to be
more
than she was.

“This has been a wonderful day, Ed,” she told him.

Did he actually blush? He seemed almost embarrassed by her sincerity. “Yes, it has. Which painting did you like best?”

She laughed. “I couldn’t possibly choose!” Then, more seriously, she said, “But the pictures that most interested me were by Mary Cassatt. I’ve been reading about her, and about the Paris Salon in the 1880s. Mary Cassatt was one of only a few women who exhibited with the men whom we now regard as masters. Renoir. Monet. Degas. And poor Degas! Did you know he never married? And he hated the term
Impressionist
and he believed that no painter could possibly have a private life. He was blind when he was older, and lonely—” She paused, suddenly embarrassed by her own fervency.

“Go on,” Ed prompted. “Please. I’m fascinated. I’ve never taken the time to study the personal lives of artists.”

“Oh, well,” Lexi sipped more champagne. What was she thinking, telling this real estate mogul anything at all?

“Really,” Ed insisted. He smiled his charming smile. “I find the lives of all successful people of interest.”

After dinner, they
strolled around the formal grounds of the hotel. The air was hot and humid and lush with the scent of roses. For a few moments they watched the waters of a fountain spill over the marble. This would be a good time for Ed to kiss her, Lexi thought. To hold her hand…

But he only took her arm, lightly. “It’s late,” Ed said. “We have to get up early tomorrow to drive back to the ferry.”

She walked along helplessly as they returned to the hotel and took the elevator to their floor. At the door of her room, he said formally, “Good night, Lexi. Thank you for a delightful evening.”

“Oh.” She felt awkward, uncertain. “I thought—”

Calmly, he told her, “Anything else that happens tonight is your choice. The door between us stays locked, or you can open it. It’s up to you.”

“Well, okay…”

“See you in the morning.”

Ed walked away, down the corridor to his own room. As he did, Lexi experienced an unexpected twinge of disappointment. A sense of loss, almost.

In her bedroom, she crossed to stand in front of the full-length mirror. She had twisted her blond hair into a simple, classic chignon. Her makeup was only a touch of lipstick, but her cheeks were rosy from the champagne. She was sleek and slim and, yes, she was elegant, standing there in the black dress and high heels.

And she was glowing. From champagne, or nervousness, whatever—she was glowing.

And now she thought: why
shouldn’t
she sleep with him? Probably she would never see him again in her entire life. Or perhaps next summer she would see him, and she would be waitressing at La Maison, and he would be courting and seducing another, younger waitress, and Lexi would be cast aside just like Clare predicted.

But next summer was far away. And until this trip, she had been feeling so lonely. Her brother was in school in Boston, her parents were in the process of closing their store, and most of her friends were back at college. She was young, after all; why shouldn’t she be foolish while she was young? Why shouldn’t she have a night of frivolous sexual passion with a wealthy, fascinating man?

She rechecked her image in the mirror. Should she change into her sexy little nightie? No. No, if she didn’t unlock that door right this very minute, she’d have second thoughts and freeze up with terror. She looked as good as she was going to, and so she took a deep breath, and she unlocked the adjoining door.

Ed was standing by his bed. He was just removing his dinner jacket. His white shirt gleamed like snow. “Well, hello.”

She crossed over the threshold into his room. “I thought…” Suddenly she was trembling. She’d had sex with boys before—with
boys,
inexperienced, clumsy boys. She clenched her fists and struggled to remain dignified. “I thought I’d like to go to bed with you.”

“Did you, now.” Ed’s face softened. “I was rather hoping you’d decide that.”

She walked toward him slowly. She could feel her thighs brushing the silk of her dress. “Do you—Would you like me to undress?”

He pulled her to him in a gentle hug. “Lexi.” He kissed her face and ran his hands down her arms. “Yes, Lexi, I’d like you to undress. But first, I’d like you to sit down. Here.” He gestured to one of the chairs in the sitting area of his room.

Puzzled, she obeyed. Ed sat next to her. He studied her for a moment. “You really are lovely.”

Her throat was so dry she was afraid to respond.

“Lexi,” Ed said, “what would you think about marrying me?” And from his pocket he brought out a small black velvet box holding a large emerald-cut diamond ring.

Clare was nearly
shaking with anger. It was very early Sunday morning, a muggy hot morning in early September. “I can’t believe you made me come out to Moon Shell Beach to tell me this!”