An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach) Read online

  “Has she been able to locate him?” Liddy asked, as if grateful to change the subject.

  “She isn’t trying to. She says he’d gotten heavily involved with drugs, had no interest in stopping, and had no desire to go to rehab. She says she doesn’t need his child support and doesn’t want him in Daisy’s life. Doesn’t even want his family to know he has a daughter.”

  “Was he abusive to her?” Emma asked tentatively, as if she might be almost afraid of the answer.

  “Not as far as I know. He was always sort of quiet, but amiable. He and Art got along well, and Art was always good at seeing things in people the rest of us missed. No.” Maggie shook her head again, this time more emphatically. “Grace even asked her if Jon had ever ‘gotten mean’ with her, and Nat laughed in her face.”

  “Did you like him?” Emma asked.

  Maggie blew out a long breath and thought before she answered. “He could be charming, and affectionate to Natalie, and he was always polite and well mannered. Art always said I’d never be satisfied with anyone either of the girls chose, but that’s not true. I liked Zach. Loved him.” She laughed ruefully. “And we know how that turned out.”

  “It sounds as if Natalie has good reasons for not wanting Jon to be in Daisy’s life,” Emma said.

  “And I imagine she’s still angry about the way he reacted when she told him she was pregnant.” Liddy tossed a few grape tomatoes onto her plate.

  “‘Never wanted a kid, not about to have one now. You want it, you’re on your own.’ Can you imagine a man saying something like that to a woman he supposedly had been in love with for three years?”

  “No. And you don’t know what else went on that she hasn’t told you about,” Liddy pointed out. “And I’m sure you wouldn’t want him around Natalie or Daisy if he’s using drugs.”

  “Of course I don’t. I still think he has the right to know he has a daughter, but that’s not my call.”

  “Which reinforces what we’ve been trying to tell you about Jess, Liddy,” Emma pointed out. Liddy acknowledged the remark with a slight nod but didn’t comment. “You just don’t always know what your kids are thinking or what’s going on in their lives.”

  “I just hope Nat isn’t going to regret her decision someday. Daisy is going to have questions about her father at some point.”

  “Those are her decisions to make. Natalie’s an adult and she’s going to do what she wants. I’d be happy if I could talk my son into coming home more than two or three times a year and staying for more than a long weekend.” Emma drained her glass, then twirled the stem between her fingers.

  “Well, when one is an international rock star, one has certain obligations,” Liddy said, the hint of a tease in her voice.

  “Yes, to everyone except one’s mother.” Emma made an exaggerated pouty face.

  “You know, the whole rock star thing still tickles me.” Maggie grinned. “Little Christopher Dean, who used to take music lessons at the house next door, has his name on a band and his face on album covers all over the world.”

  “It’s crazy, right?” Emma laughed. “My sweet little boy now stands on stage and sings while girls throw their panties at him.”

  “Girls still do that?” Liddy asked. “I thought that went out with Tom Jones.”

  “Tom Jones is still around, and I’ll bet women still toss their underwear at him,” Maggie pointed out.

  “Chris flew me to Los Angeles last year when the band kicked off their tour, and he plunked me right in the front row,” Emma told them. “You wouldn’t believe the things that went whizzing past my head. Everything from lacy bras to paper airplanes with phone numbers written on the wings to condoms. Also bearing phone numbers.” She paused. “Not sure if the bras had writing on them.”

  “How’d you know their phone numbers were on the condoms?” Liddy asked.

  “Someone swept them all up and piled them in a big bowl in the dressing room afterward, where I saw them. Oh, and hot tip: You’re thinking about writing your number on a condom wrapper? Use a pen. Sharpies smear.”

  Liddy nodded. “Good to know.”

  “Well, I can’t say I blame the girls for being excited. Chris was an adorable little boy, and he’s handsome as sin now. Okay, maybe underwear and condoms are a bit much.” Maggie recalled the sweet little towhead who used to pull her girls around the block in his red Radio Flyer wagon when they visited in the summers. “Of course, Natalie has all the band’s CDs. She’ll tell anyone who’ll listen that she and Chris Dean, the lead singer of DEAN, were childhood friends, and that she used to call him Chrissy.”

  “Oh God, till my dying day, I will still see the look on Harry’s face when Chris told him the name of the band was DEAN in capital letters.” Emma’s face reflected mock horror. “He was mortified. Told Chris the use of the Dean name, in any form, was absolutely forbidden.”

  “Unseemly for the son of the bank president to be the lead singer in a rock band,” Maggie noted, “and so much more so for that band to carry the family name.”

  “Exactly. Oh, the arguments that ensued. Neither of them would budge an inch. You both know Harry wanted Chris to follow in his footsteps. He wanted him to go to Harvard, like he had, and his father and grandfather had, but Chris was having none of it. That boy knew what he wanted to do from the time he was eight years old, and it had nothing to do with banking.” She grinned and added, “Except maybe banking his royalty checks once the band caught on and he actually started getting paid.”

  “I remember you telling me how the two of them would argue,” Maggie said. “But with all due respect to Harry’s memory, Chris seems to have done quite well for himself.”

  “Maybe too well. He makes an indecent amount of money, and I’m not sure what he does with it all. Not that he has to report his financial dealings to his mother, of course.” Emma leaned close to one of the platters and cut a slim wedge of brie, which she topped on a cracker. “I just hope he’s investing well. He can’t play rock star forever.”

  “Are you kidding?” Liddy laughed. “Have you heard of the Rolling Stones? The Who? Rod Stewart? Eric Clapton?”

  “Of course. But I didn’t give birth to any of them, so I don’t care what they do with their money or their lives. But my point was, I hope he’s planning well for his future.”

  “I’m sure he has excellent financial advisers,” Liddy pointed out.

  “He mentioned he had someone who’d come highly recommended.”

  “Nothing to worry about then,” Maggie assured her.

  “You know what? We should go to one of his concerts sometime. The three of us together. Want to?” Emma looked from Maggie to Liddy.

  “Of course,” Liddy replied without hesitation.

  “I’m in.” Maggie toasted the idea with the last of her drink.

  “Great. I’ll call Chris and check the tour schedule. We’ll see what date is best for each of us, and he can arrange it. Now, there’s something fun to look forward to.” She paused. “But you have to give me your solemn word: you will not remove articles of clothing to toss onto the stage.”

  “You have my word,” Maggie promised. “No clothing, no condoms. Maybe a box of Junior Mints, though. I remember he loved those.”

  Emma smiled. “Still his favorite. I put a box in his Christmas stocking every year.”

  Liddy’s face lit up. “It’ll be such fun. Imagine the three of us rocking away in the front row, singing along with the band.”

  “I’ll have to download some of his songs so I can sing, too.” Maggie hadn’t kept up with Chris’s band over the past several years. All she knew was what she’d heard from Emma and from her daughter. “Natalie will be so jealous.”

  “She can go sometime on her own. I’m sure Chris would love to see her again. But this trip will be for us.” Liddy picked up the pitcher and stood. “This calls for another round of margaritas. I’ll be right back.”

  Maggie mused over what Chris might think, gazing down from the stage
into a sea of adoring young female faces and finding not only his mother front and center, but her two oldest friends as well. “You think he’ll be embarrassed?”

  Emma waved a hand dismissively. “He’ll love it. Trust me, nothing could be more embarrassing for him than the shenanigans that went on during the four days I spent at his house in LA last year. Even with his security, there were groupies climbing over the back fence day and night, sneaking into the house, hiding in his bedroom. One day, in broad daylight, a girl followed us home from the market, stripped naked right in front of me, then dove into the pool. And that’s not the worst of it.”

  “Just what you want to see.” Maggie grinned at the mental image that popped up in her head.

  “I asked Chris what he’d have done if I hadn’t been there, and he just laughed. I imagine he’s leading quite the life.” Emma shook her head almost imperceptibly. “Actually, I don’t want to imagine it. If he’s skinny-dipping with strangers or . . . whatever else . . . I don’t want to know. It’s his life, and I guess that all comes with the territory. Still, you know, you’d hope your son would be big enough to rise above it.”

  Maggie got up and opened the door for Liddy, who appeared to be struggling with another tray of snacks in one hand and a full pitcher in the other.

  “Thanks, Mags.” Liddy set the tray and the pitcher on the table. “We have some spicy Asian chicken thing I admit I bought frozen, and sweet-and-sour meatballs. Eat up, girls. This is what’s passing for dinner tonight.”

  “Yum. This is perfect. Thank you.” Maggie reached for a pick and speared a meatball.

  Emma did the same as she continued on her rant. “Chris just turned thirty-three. Time to grow up. Meet a nice girl. Be responsible.”

  Maggie and Liddy looked at each other, then laughed.

  “Em, my sweet, Chris is living his best life right now. A life any man under the age of, oh, maybe eighty would envy,” Liddy said as she replenished the cracker tray from a box she’d brought out.

  “I want him to settle down. Have children. I want to be a grandmother,” Emma grumbled. “I want him to come home.”

  “Ahhh, there’s the heart of it.” Maggie nodded knowingly. “You want him to come home.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m a widow and he’s my only child. Can you imagine how it feels to have one child that you almost never see?”

  “Yes.” Liddy refilled everyone’s glass, including her own. “I had one child, and I will never see her again.”

  “Oh God, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Emma’s hand flew to her mouth.

  “It’s okay, Em.”

  “I swear, I just wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t comparing Chris touring with his band to Jessie.” Emma appeared close to tears.

  “Sweetie, I know,” Liddy assured her. “Whatever the reason, we’re both missing our kids, and living alone. Though the living alone part isn’t so bad most of the time.”

  Emma nodded her agreement. “To be honest, I have to admit I don’t miss Harry so much anymore. I mean, it has been eight years since he died. You adjust after a while.”

  “I’m still adjusting,” Maggie admitted as she placed some brie on a cracker.

  “Art’s only been gone for two years. Of course you still miss him. But for me? No adjustment needed. I’m still angry. For all I know, Jim might have wanted a divorce for years, but his timing was just plain shitty.” Liddy stabbed a celery stick into the dip with the vengeance of one spearing an elusive fish. One year and one day after their daughter had taken her life, Liddy’s husband had walked out and wasted no time filing for divorce. “Jerk. And that’s the nicest thing I can think to call him.”

  “That was a low blow,” Maggie said softly.

  “Insult to injury,” Emma agreed.

  “Kicked me while I was down.” Liddy forced a half smile. “I can’t think of any more clichés, but we all obviously agree it was a crappy thing for him to do.”

  “Have you heard from him at all?” Maggie asked.

  “He sent me a card on my birthday. If I hadn’t ripped it up and set fire to it, I’d share it with you.” She took a vengeful bite from the celery stick and chewed. “It was totally generic. Like a card you’d send to your insurance agent. He signed his name, and that was it. After all the years we were married—all we’d gone through—and I get a Hope you have a sunny day! card with a picture of a sunflower on the front.”

  “That is cold,” Maggie agreed, grateful that Art’s image had suffered no such tarnishing since his passing. She still honored the man he’d been, and their daughters still believed he’d walked on water.

  Liddy continued to bat Jim around for a while longer before talk turned to who all had declined to come to the reunion and who all they’d see over the weekend. They shared gossip—LeeAnn divorced her third husband and is looking for number four; Caroline had a mastectomy, but she’s in remission and is doing really well; Kelly Sanger’s daughter ran off with Kelly’s pool boy and left Kelly to care for her two grandbabies. And there’d been much laughter and remembrances—Remember the time Polly Landers brought her cat to school in her book bag because her brother threatened to take it to the beach? Remember the Memorial Day parade when Sue Merritt flipped her baton into the air, and it came down on Amy Thomas’s head and knocked her out cold and they had to stop the parade?

  When at last the snacks had been consumed and the pitcher had been emptied for the last time, the leftovers had been packed away, and the dishwasher had been filled, Emma headed off to her own home and Maggie and Liddy retired to their respective rooms. Tired from her travels, once she’d tucked herself under the quilt Liddy’d left at the foot of the bed, Maggie closed her eyes. Her face still hurt from laughing, and for a while sleep seemed out of the question. So many images—faces and places and events—had been conjured up over the past hours. Voices and snippets of songs played inside her head, memories resurfaced, old feelings she’d thought long dead stirred. She pushed aside what she could and told herself she’d deal with the rest of it tomorrow. She drifted off to sleep still enveloped in the warmth and comfort of the love of her friends, effectively ignoring the certainty that before she left Wyndham Beach to return home on Monday, other emotions would be stirred up, other old feelings would surface—and those she would have to face alone.

  Chapter Two

  “I’d forgotten how nice it could be to have a day to just do whatever I feel like doing.” Maggie finished strapping herself into the passenger seat of Liddy’s car.

  “You’re still volunteering at fifty different places and substitute teaching?”

  Maggie nodded. “It feels like fifty sometimes. I know I should cut back, but it’s so difficult once you get entrenched and people start depending on you.”

  She’d quit teaching following Art’s diagnosis, but after his death, she’d needed something to dig into, something to focus on other than herself and her lonely house, her empty bed. Someplace to go where she could meet people who’d never known Art, people who could talk about something besides her loss. Who could see her as someone other than half a broken circle.

  “Well, you might think about what you’d miss the least, then slowly reduce your hours until you feel comfortable backing out gracefully.”

  “That’s good advice. Maybe I’ll cut back at . . . oh, hell. I don’t know which one I like the least. I like all of the agencies and places and the people I’ve met.”

  “You’ll figure it out. You can always use the excuse that you want to spend more time substitute teaching.”

  “Well, that is true. There have been times when I’ve had to turn down teaching opportunities because I’ve committed to one thing or another.”

  “Are you still the CEO of Art’s law firm?”

  “I am, though I don’t know why. I mean, I know he wanted to keep the business in the family, but still. I don’t do anything except pop in once a month, water the snake plant in Art’s old office, and take his old assistant out to lunch.” />
  “I’d have thought he’d have left the firm to Grace.”

  “Eventually, he would have. But at the time decisions had to be made, Art didn’t feel comfortable putting Grace in such a position of power when her husband was working there, too.” Maggie grimaced. “Of course, in retrospect, it was the right thing to do. Imagine if Gracie had the controlling interest in the firm, given the situation with Zach. If they’d stayed married even for a time, would he be entitled to half of the firm when they divorced? I don’t know. I’m just glad that was one conversation we didn’t have to have.”

  “And you’re not tempted to exercise a little control yourself where Zach is concerned?”

  “Of course I am. Zach was a huge part of our lives from the time he and Grace were in law school. He said he’d waited until after Art died to tell her he wanted a divorce because he didn’t want to add to everyone’s distress, but frankly, I think he waited because he couldn’t look Art in the eye.” Maggie shook her head, remembering how happy Art had been with his daughter’s choice of husband, how he and Zach had gone to baseball and football games together. Just weeks before Art got sick, he and his son-in-law had gone deep-sea fishing, a first time for both of them, and they’d made plans to go again at the end of the summer. “He wasn’t man enough to face Art with the truth. I also think he was hoping that, on his deathbed, Art would give him half the firm. Thank God he didn’t.”

  “He isn’t worthy of Grace,” Liddy pronounced as if closing the door on that topic, then backed out of the driveway carefully, pausing at the curb to make sure nothing was coming either way. “So where to first? The beach? The harbor? Or we could check out a few of the new shops in town.”

  “I’m up for a little shopping. I stopped at the beach yesterday when I first arrived. I was surprised to see a lifeguard station there.”

  “Yes, there’s a lifeguard from Memorial Day straight through till Labor Day, seven days a week, from nine in the morning till six at night. A dumb waste of taxpayers’ money if you ask me. That beach has the worst sand. No one wants to sit on it. Everyone goes to the Island Road beach,” Liddy all but harrumphed. “The Cottage Street beach has always been set aside for fishing and digging quahogs, and underage drinking. Everyone knows that.”