Secrets in Summer

She was stung. A kind of shame flooded her, as if she’d been attempting an intimacy that didn’t exist. She consoled herself, remembering how Jordan said she could never ask Lyle anything important until he’d had a drink and eaten dinner.

“Okay. Let’s get the other one in,” he said. He walked past her and headed down the stairs.

“Right. The other one goes in the living room window. I spend most of my time there. In the summer, I eat salads or takeout.” Darcy knew she was babbling, but she wanted to get away from that uncomfortable moment between them.

Nash worked quickly. When the air conditioner was in place, he turned it on. It hummed and gurgled and warm air swept into the room and finally the cool air arrived.

“You’re a lifesaver!” Darcy told Nash. “Want a beer?”

“What I’d really like is a shower.”

“Disappointing as that is, go ahead, help yourself. I’ll get dinner ready.” She sighed with relief. The awkwardness between them had disappeared.

Nash headed back up the stairs. Darcy went into the kitchen and found Muffler sitting by his food bowl, glaring at her indignantly.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t I feed you yet?” Darcy filled his bowl with the gourmet moist food the cat liked, then set about getting the human dinner ready. She’d made a pan of mac and cheese with lobster the night before, and she heated it in the microwave while she sliced beefsteak tomatoes and sprinkled them with oregano. When she heard Nash coming down the stairs, she opened a beer and carried it to him, and burst out laughing. He was wearing her turquoise kimono, and it barely met at the front even with the cloth tie.

“Couldn’t tolerate getting back into those clothes,” Nash explained.

Darcy laughed. “It’s a good look for you. Plus I can hardly wait to see what happens when you sit down.”

They went into the living room, which was nicely cool and dry. Nash sat, and the robe parted, exposing pretty much all of him.

“I can’t eat like this,” he grumbled.

“Let me get you one of my sheet towels,” Darcy said. “You can wrap it around your waist and keep your treasures secret.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

As she went into the laundry room and fished a clean towel from the drier, a thought occurred to her. Should Nash keep a set of fresh clothes here? He ate here several times a week, and the heat wave was not going to be over any time soon. But if she proposed it to him—did that seem like she was pushing for something more, something serious?

She brought him the towel and watched him wrap it around his torso.

“That’s better,” he said.

“Not for me,” she joked, but he’d already turned the television on and the Red Sox were playing Cleveland. “I’ll bring in dinner.”

“Need some help?”

“No, it’s easy.” She filled two plates, put them on a tray with utensils and napkins and carried it in.

“Thanks,” Nash said. “This looks great.” Before she could respond, he yelled, “Ramirez, get a grip!”

Darcy settled next to Nash on the sofa and focused on the game. She was an ardent Red Sox fan, and she adored the sportscaster Jerry Remy, who had the most contagious laugh. She sensed Nash relaxing as he ate and watched the game, and she decided that television had probably saved more than one relationship. It was like putting a child in time-out, or having a buffer guest at a dinner party. The tension eased. Nash had a second heaping helping of the mac and cheese. They watched the game to its end—the Red Sox won—and Darcy brought in bowls of ice cream for them both.

As the last of her ice cream melted in her mouth, Darcy wondered if Nash had gotten over his sulk.

“Do you want more ice cream?” she asked.

“No,” Nash said. He put his bowl on the table and turned to her. “Now I want this.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her. His towel fell off. She wriggled out of her clothes without ending the kiss. They slid down onto the couch together, and although the TV continued with the after-game show, they didn’t even notice.



Often a Nantucket summer was blessed—or cursed—by a week of rain, fog, and wind. Darcy felt oddly guilty when this happened, because it ruined so many holiday plans, especially for those who had rented a house on the island for only a week. It didn’t bother her—she liked the rain a lot, the fragrances it brought out from the garden, the soothing sound of it against her bedroom window, and the pleasure she took in offering story times to children who couldn’t go to the beach.

By Thursday, she realized that the Brueckner boys had been to story time every day that week. At first, they sat politely, but when they showed up on Thursday, they’d obviously exceeded their ability to be still and listen. While Darcy perched at the front of the room on a chair that allowed her to show the book’s pictures to all the children—and to see what all the children were doing—she noticed George pinching Alfred, and Alfred, the youngest and weakest, wriggling away from his brother, accidentally bumping into children next to him and causing them to snarl at the boy. Susan, settled on the floor at the back with the other mothers, was aware that her sons were misbehaving. She looked miserable. Outside, the rain sheeted down, pattering against the windows, turning the lawn into a soggy stretch of mud.

“Alfred,” Darcy said. “Would you do me a favor?” She saw the alarm in Susan’s eyes. “Would you come up here and turn the pages for me? It’s really hard for me to hold the book and turn the pages.”

Alfred’s eyes widened. Braced for a scolding, he had to take a moment to understand her invitation. Then he jumped to his feet and almost ran to join Darcy. She continued to read, pausing to whisper to Alfred, “Please turn now.” By the end of the book, Alfred was smug and his brothers approached him with something like admiration.

Afterward, the children and their mothers streamed out the door. Susan approached Darcy. “That was so nice. Thank you, Darcy. Alfred, you did such a good job!”

Susan looked terrible, Darcy thought. Her eyes were puffy and her posture spoke of a woman who was struggling simply to stand. As the room emptied out, the two older boys, Henry and George, started shoving each other and calling each other names.

“It’s this rain,” Susan said, seeming entirely defeated. “They aren’t constitutionally built to be quiet.”

“Take them to the beach anyway,” Darcy suggested. “It’s warm out, they’ll get wet swimming. Or take them to the Life Saving Museum.”

Susan nearly sank to her knees. “Oh, thank you. I was running out of ideas….”

“Look,” Darcy said, “The Dreamland’s rerunning Cinderella tonight. I’m going with a couple of friends. In fact, it’s Mimi, who lives to my right, and Willow, who lives behind me. It’s supposed to be a gorgeous movie, with Cate Blanchett as the wicked stepmother. Come with us.”

“Oh, thank you, but I couldn’t leave the boys.”

“Won’t your husband be there?”

“Yes, but—” Susan bit her lip. “He’s not very good at handling them all by himself.”

“Have him bring the boys to the movie.”

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