When Ruby turned to look at Daddy, she noticed Mother clinging to his arm as tears puddled.
“Ma?” Ruby said, tentatively. “Are you all right?”
“I’ve never been better. This island. My family. Cliff House. It makes me full, finally and at last.”
Ruby flinched. Her mother’s mind had drifted to Walter, as it so often did. The second son had been Sarah’s favorite. He was kind and handsome and whip-smart. Walter committed but one error in life, a first mistake that would also be his last. Late one night, with too much hooch diluting his blood, Walter Young drove a carful of girls into a tree a quarter mile from the Dartmouth campus. The girls survived but Walter did not.
It’d been five years and the family hardly talked about the middle brother anymore. But Ruby still saw Walter, every once in a while, lingering between her parents. Usually, though, his ghost stayed in Boston. No one brought thoughts of him into summer.
“Nantucket is the best,” Ruby said, aspiring to keep her mother’s spirits high. “I can’t imagine life without Cliff House.”
Mother smiled, though her eyes continued to tear.
“It’s everything I dreamed of when I asked your father to build it.” Mother’s tears were streams now, the puddles moved on. “And you know what? It keeps getting better. Because next year we’ll stand in this very spot, together. And the year after we’ll stand again. Soon there will be babies in our home and at this parade, clutching American flags in their chubby precious hands.”
Mother sighed and Daddy wrapped one arm around her.
“Sometimes I think the world is so scary and hopeless,” Mother said. “And getting worse by the day. But when our family is together in Sconset, it makes me believe that in the end, everything will turn out precisely as it should.”
*
“Well, here they are. Everyone please put your hands together for the Ladies’ Doubles Champions of the Nantucket Yacht Club.”
Topper clapped wildly and took a deep bow. He kissed Ruby’s hand, followed by Hattie’s, then whipped out his Rolleiflex. As Topper set his camera down, Ruby saw his eyes dawdle on Hattie, as well they should. She was a one-hundred-percent-certified knockout in a silk ivory dress with ruffles cascading toward the floor.
“Champs,” Hattie said with a grin. Her nose was slightly sunburned. “That’s us. But, shhhh, don’t tell the rag mags. We don’t want to get mobbed by the press or our hordes of adoring fans.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
Topper flung the camera over his shoulder and placed a hand over his heart.
“And as for you, little brother,” Ruby said. “You cut a dashing figure. I’m glad to see it’s not all snips and snails and puppy-dog tails with you.”
“Thank you, Madame.”
He took another bow, and then flipped the tails of his tuxedo as if they were feathers.
“I can gin up okay.”
Ruby exhaled, only just then realizing she’d been holding her breath. Gee whiz, Topper sure looked and sounded loads better than the last time they’d all been in that ballroom together. Ruby thanked her lucky stars.
“Alas my countenance could never match that of a one Miss Rutter or a Missus Packard,” he said. “You two dames have already stolen the show and it hasn’t even begun.”
“You snake charmer, you,” Ruby said. “Speaking of Packards, where’d my husband run off to?”
“He’s chatting with the valet. I lost interest and wandered off to find you.”
He reached into his coat.
“Care for a cig, Miss Rutter?” He extended an engraved silver case in her direction. “I picked up some Gauloises on your recommendation.”
“Glad I could spread the good word.” Hattie snagged one. “I admire a man who takes my advice.”
Philip Junior and Mary strolled up then, looking agreeable if not both slightly put out. He was acceptably dapper and she was elegant, for an old stodge anyhow. It was amazing how half a decade could turn a pretty, white-gloved deb into an ordinary Boston low-heeler. Then again, Mary’s heels had never been that high, even when she wore the gloves. But Ruby had to give it to her. Mary did look mighty swell that night, years shaved off her in a jiff.
“Holy Moses!” Ruby said, and gave her sister-in-law a squeeze. It was easier to have compassion toward Mary after a few swigs of gin. “That’s some dress. Gorge as can be. Would you call that a wisteria blue?”
Maybe the gal had a bit of the va-va-voom in her yet.
“Er, um, I’m not sure,” Mary said, straightening her skirt. “I suppose you’d know better than I.”
“Hello, Ruby,” P.J. said, and gave his sister a tin-man embrace.
He nodded toward Hattie, a bob of acknowledgment.
“Hello there,” he said.
“You really are a hot numbah,” Hattie said to Mary, and took a suck on her cigarette. “Simply de-vine. Thank God they haven’t rationed our good fabrics like over in Europe.”
“Not yet,” Topper said. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“And how.”
Hattie took another drag and Topper slipped her a wink of appreciation, a gesture caught by Ruby alone. She beamed at the two of them.
“Hey now,” Topper said. “Whaddya say we shake a leg and head outside? The water carnival and sky parade are due to start.”
“Three parades in one day.” Hattie shook her head and laughed. “And a tennis competition. This is some kind of town. Buzz off, ya stupid war!”
“Well, actually,” Ruby said. “The sky parade is in lieu of the traditional fireworks in respect for…”
“T’hell with all of it!” Hattie prattled on. “We don’t need any of that wretched business marring our sweet island.”
“No siree!” Topper said, joining in. “I personally would rather think about lights on a boat than Stalin’s scorched-earth policy. Come; let’s find a place in line. A bad spot would be the true tragedy.”
He took Hattie’s hand and led her outside. Ruby’s heart lifted as if the hand was hers. Though they were bantering about the stupid war, they were clearly enjoying the party, and each other.
“Shall we go, darling?” P.J. asked, petting Mary’s slender arm. “We don’t want to get a sucker’s seat and miss the show.”
“Very well,” Mary said with a sigh. “Are you coming, Ruby?”
“Ummm…”
Ruby glanced toward the door, surprised to be suddenly frowning.
“Actually,” she said, “I’ll wait for Sam. We’ll be out in a minute.”
“Fine.” Mary sighed again. “But don’t ask us to save you a spot.”
*
The water carnival was no joke.
Every boat at the club was decked out in red, white, and blue mini-lights. A band played from a flotilla in the harbor while searchlights bounced between the land and sky. Colored flares lined the shores.
“Golly, what a scene!” Ruby cried, leaning more tightly against Sam.
He stood behind her, arms secured around her waist. Every once in a while, he nuzzled her neck and hair.
“Get a load of all the people!” Ruby said. “They’re dancing everywhere!”
“It’s a scene and a half,” Sam agreed.