Summer People (8 page)

Garrett rested the open book on his chest and closed his eyes. It was embarrassing that he’d even found time to start his required reading. He needed to get a life.

Suddenly, he heard his mother. “This is
going
to be a low-key affair.” She said this as if trying to convince someone—herself, he supposed, or anyone else who might be listening. The ghost of his father, maybe. Garrett opened his eyes to see Beth come down the stairs wearing jeans, a pale pink T-shirt, and a pair of flip-flops. Her hair was still wet, and as she grew closer to him he caught the scent of her lotion. “I am
not
going to a lot of trouble.”

“Okay,” Garrett mumbled. “Whatever you say.”

“Oh,
Garrett,
” she said. She stopped at the hall mirror and inspected her face closely, much the way Garrett himself did when he was worried about acne. “Will you please just participate here? Will you play along?”

He dog-eared the page of his book and climbed out of the recliner. “Sure,” he said. “What can I do?”

Beth turned to him with narrowed eyes, suspicious of his sudden willingness. “Well,” she said. “You can help me in the kitchen.”

It was on the tip of Garrett’s tongue to ask
Where’s Winnie? Where’s Marcus? Why can’t they help?
But he kept quiet and followed his mother.

Garrett had helped with his parents’ dinner parties for years, and he knew from looking at the raw ingredients that tonight was a big deal disguised to look like no big deal. His mother pulled a bag of jumbo shrimp out of the fridge—all peeled and deveined and steamed to a lurid pink. At least fifty dollars worth of shrimp, which his mother shook out of the bag onto a hand painted platter that one of Garrett’s cousins had made on a rainy day. She took a bottle of cocktail sauce out of the fridge, then grinned at Garrett sheepishly and said, “I think I’ll doctor this a little.” She proceeded to mix in mayonnaise, horseradish, lemon juice, and a generous splash from the vodka bottle she kept in the freezer. “We have chives, I think,” she said. “For a garnish.”

“What do you want me to do?” Garrett asked. “You need help, right? When did you go to the fish store?”

“This morning before you got up,” she admitted. “Why don’t you set the table.”

“Okay,” he said. “How many of us are there again?”

Beth paused. “Eight, right? Isn’t that right? Set the table for eight people. The dining room table.”

“Do we have eight of everything?” he asked.

“If not, make do,” Beth said. “This is no big deal. The world won’t end if someone is short a steak knife.”

“Obviously not,” Garrett said. He checked a few drawers and found five disintegrating straw place mats and three green plastic place mats that were meant to resemble large cabbage roses. He laid these out on the dining room table, pleased by how awful they looked. As he headed back to the kitchen to find napkins, he bumped into Beth. She eyed the table over his shoulder.

“No, Garrett, sorry,” she said. “Those are hideous. I brought the place mats from home, the blue ones, and the napkins. They’re in one of the plastic bags in the pantry.”

“But you said—”

“Thanks, sweetie.” She collected the place mats quickly, like a poker player who didn’t want anyone to see her losing hand. “These are going right into the trash.”

For the next hour, Garrett watched Beth break all her promises. The blue linen place mats and matching floral napkins went on the table along with the “good,” meaning unchipped, china, three balloon wineglasses for the adults, and a bouquet of daisies and bachelor buttons that Beth had somehow found time to purchase at Bartlett Farm. Beth asked him to wash the silverware before he put it on the table, even though it was already clean. As Garrett stood at the sink, he catalogued all the effort that went into the dinner. The thick steaks seasoned with salt and pepper, the baking potatoes scrubbed and nestled in foil, the asparagus trimmed and drizzled with the special olive oil from Zabar’s. The butter brought to room temperature, the sour cream garnished with chives, and while his mother was at it, a little crumbled bacon.

It was the smell of bacon, maybe, that lured Marcus down from his room.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked.

“Don’t you remember, Marcus?” Beth said. “We’re having dinner guests.”

“Who?”

“Old friends of mine,” Beth said. “And their kids. Two girls. A little younger than you.”

“Okay,” Marcus said. “Can I help?”

“Where’s Winnie?” Beth said. “It’s five minutes to seven. They’ll be here soon.”

“Her door was closed,” Marcus said. “She must be napping.”

Beth let out a very long stream of air and Garrett knew this meant she was trying to hold back her tears. He wanted to yell at her. It was a terrible idea to throw this dinner party, what was she trying to prove, anyway? What made her think she could act like a happy, normal person? But as angry as Garrett was with Beth, he felt sorry for her, too. Her pain was as real as his own and Winnie’s; it was immense and unwieldy and it had a deeper element—she had lost the man she was in love with. Dr. Schau had gone over this with Garrett many times: losing a spouse was different, and yes, worse, than losing a parent.

“I’ll go get her,” Garrett conceded.

“Thank you,” Beth said. “Marcus, would you like a Coke?”

Garrett marched upstairs and tapped lightly on Winnie’s door.

“Go away,” she said.

“Winnifred!” Garrett said in his most playful falsetto. “Win-nifred, open the door this instant!”

“Fuck off, Garrett,” she said.

Garrett cracked open the door. It was a much-disdained fact that none of the doors in Horizon had a working lock. Winnie was curled up on her narrow bed wearing her sweatshirt and a pair of jean shorts.

“You have to come downstairs,” he said. He paused, then decided to try one of their father’s favorite jokes. “We’re having people for dinner.”

Winnie sat up. She’d been crying, of course, but she gave him a tiny smile. “I hope they taste good,” she said.

For the first time in a long time, Garrett felt a connection with his sister. No matter what happened with their mother, the two of them could keep their father’s spirit alive. “I’m serious. Mom wants you to come down.”

“Not a chance,” Winnie said. “I’m not hungry and I don’t want to meet anyone new.”

“Me either,” Garrett admitted.

“Teenage girls. Yuck. Marcus will probably fall in love with one of them.”

This was something Garrett hadn’t considered. He figured the daughters would be awkward and gangly, with braces and zits. But maybe Marcus would have the hots for one of them and then Garrett could stop worrying about Marcus and Winnie.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll tell Mom you don’t feel well.”

“Thanks,” Winnie said, snuggling back down into her pillow. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Garrett said. This little bit of affirmation from his sister made him happier than it should have. He really needed to get a life.

The doorbell rang as Garrett was coming down the stairs. Beth shouted, “Garrett, would you let our guests in, please?” He cursed to himself and considered running back upstairs to hide with Winnie in her room. His newly discovered sense of optimism dissolved. He dreaded opening the door.

But open it he did, to find a man and two girls.

“You must be Garrett,” the man said. He thrust a bottle in a brown paper bag into Garrett’s hands, then stepped aside and ushered the girls in. “I’m David Ronan, and these are my daughters, Piper and Peyton.”

“Hi,” Garrett heard himself say. His mind was grappling with two equally alarming facts. The first was that the mother, the wife, Mrs. Whomever, didn’t seem to be present—Garrett glanced out toward their car, a silver Dodge Dakota pickup, but no, she wasn’t lagging behind carrying a pie or anything. This was it: just the man and two girls. Garrett had been duped. This was a date for his mother, after all. But before he could deal with that thought, he needed to contend with the other pressing fact, which was that one of the girls, the older, taller one, was a complete knockout. As in, one of the hottest chicks Garrett had ever seen. “Hi,” he said, right into the girl’s face. “I’m Garrett Newton.”

“Piper,” she said. She had long light brown hair and green eyes and what looked to be an incredible body. She wore a tank top and tight white shorts and sandals with cork heels. She had two silver hoops in her right ear, and a diamond stud in her nose. She was a goddess. Beth appeared in the hallway and gushed, “Welcome to Horizon, let’s go out on the deck, we’ll watch the sun set, can I get you all something to drink?” Garrett nearly hugged his mother, despite the fact that she’d been lying to him about the purpose of this dinner for days.

Thank you, he thought, thank you for inviting this beautiful person to our house. He loved the way Piper moved down the hall, flipping back her hair, shaking Beth’s hand, saying “Thanks for inviting us, Beth. It was about time Daddy got out of the house.”

“I’m glad you could come,” Beth said. She felt Garrett’s judgmental gaze boring into her back and she tried to keep her voice light and steady. “It’s no big deal tonight. Just a casual cookout.”

Garrett remained in the hallway holding the bottle of wine while everyone else moved out to the deck. He needed a minute alone. He watched Marcus shake hands with Piper, then the other girl, who was also pretty, but younger. He watched Marcus and David shake hands. Then he watched Beth and David shake hands and kiss on the sides of their mouths. These greetings took a few minutes, then everyone seemed to appreciate the view, and Garrett heard Beth taking drink orders. The shrimp was on the table outside and Piper was the first to help herself.

“I’m absolutely
famished,
” Garrett heard her say, and he thought how that word, “famished,” would have sounded phony if anyone else had said it, but when Piper said it, it sounded retro and cool. Famished.

Beth stepped into the kitchen and Garrett moved toward her holding out the bottle of wine.

“They brought this,” he said.

“David just told me he lets Piper have a glass of wine at dinner parties,” Beth said. “Would
you
like a glass of wine?”

“Yeah,” Garrett said.

Beth took the bottle from him and brought another bottle out of the fridge. The Ronans had only been here two minutes and already she’d resorted to bribery. Arch had never approved of the twins drinking—not even watered-down wine at a fancy dinner. “We won’t overdo it though, okay?”

“Okay.”

Then, suddenly, Beth sensed something wrong. She checked her jeans pockets as though she’d misplaced her wallet. “Where’s your sister?”

“Upstairs. She’s sick.”

“Sick?”

“Yeah.”

They both paused for a minute, thinking the same thing: Winnie was sick, very sick, but not in a way that should keep her from this dinner party. Garrett could tell by the liberal way his mother poured the wine that she was going to let it go. She handed Garrett two glasses to carry out. “Let’s go socialize,” she said.

The world was treating him fairly again. That was what Garrett thought as he sat on the end of a chaise lounge at Piper Ronan’s feet, drinking wine, watching the sun set from the deck of his family’s summer home. The party had split up into three conversations: David chatted with Marcus, Beth talked to the younger daughter, Peyton, and that left Garrett to hang out with Piper, who immediately started asking him what it was like to live in Manhattan. It must be cool, she said, to actually
live
in the same city with the Empire State Building and Greenwich Village. The Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Guggenheim
and
Soho. Garrett felt like a rock star. The wine went right to his head.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” he said. “I mean, I was born there so I don’t know what’s it’s like to live anywhere else. Except here, I guess, in the summer.”

“Do you take cabs all the time?” Piper asked. “Do you take a cab to school?”

“I walk to school,” Garrett said. “Danforth’s on the Upper East Side, where I live.”

“Upper East Side,” Piper said. “God, I just
love
the way that sounds! I can’t wait until I graduate from college. I’m moving to Manhattan. What about clubbing? Do you go clubbing?”