An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach) Read online

  Thoughts of the distant past vanished when Liddy grabbed Maggie’s elbow and steered her off to the right into the room known as the Fireside Room, which was set up with several round tables, a scattering of chairs, two long tables upon which an array of desserts had been displayed, and an open bar. The lights had been lowered to that precise point of bright enough to see but not harsh enough to make everyone look, well, harsh. The room was crowded, and the noise level ranged from happy chatter to boisterous laughter.

  “Maggie. Three o’clock,” Liddy whispered. “Blue blazer. White turtleneck. Yellow sweater.”

  Maggie looked off to her right, where a small group of men were animatedly chatting next to the bar.

  “Who am I looking at?” Maggie kept her voice low as well.

  “That’s Rick. Don’t you recognize him?”

  “Ah, no.” Maggie tried not to stare while at the same time trying to see something familiar about him.

  Liddy took a hurried step in his direction, forcing Maggie to grab her by the arm to stop her forward motion.

  “Uh-uh. Too soon,” Maggie cautioned.

  “Don’t be silly. If I don’t, someone else will. Come on.” And with that Liddy took off like a shot in the direction of the bar, leaving a startled Maggie in her wake.

  She watched Liddy approach the group of men without hesitation, a smile on her face and a spring in her step. She took a few steps in Liddy’s direction but was waylaid by classmates who wanted to catch up. Distracted, Maggie tried to maintain attention to dual situations. She was happy to see old friends and wanted to talk, but at the same time, she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that things weren’t going to end well for Liddy, especially after she saw a woman in a short tight blue dress cut down to there scoping out the same group Liddy had joined.

  Tapping her target on the shoulder, Liddy stepped back as Rick turned and greeted her warmly with a hug, as did the others in the group. After a few moments of what appeared to be lively conversation, the woman in the blue dress who’d caught Maggie’s eye drifted over and joined them, and one by one the attention of all five men began to swivel from Liddy to the newcomer.

  LeeAnn . . . Maggie didn’t know what the woman’s last name was after three marriages . . . but it was pretty clear that LeeAnn was dressed for success, her impressive cleavage having led the way to the circle. The guys looked fascinated and hung on every word, and they slowly closed ranks, with LeeAnn in and Liddy gradually being eased out.

  Maggie grabbed the hand of Caroline McNally, the latest friend to approach her, and said, “I told Liddy I’d meet her at the bar, and I see she’s waiting. Let’s join her for a drink.”

  Maggie made a beeline toward the bar, dragging Caroline with her.

  “Time for a drink,” Maggie said as she physically turned Liddy toward the bar.

  “Did you see . . . ?” Liddy was understandably embarrassed.

  “I did, but I don’t think anyone else did,” Maggie said under her breath. Aloud, she told Liddy, “Caroline was telling me how well she’s doing now that she’s in remission. Caroline, I think you’re remarkably strong. And you look wonderful.” Maggie signaled the bartender. “Wine, ladies? Or something else . . . ?”

  When the bartender made his way to their end of the bar, Maggie ordered two glasses of pinot grigio and a sparkling water for Caroline. In the meantime, several others had gathered around them. Maggie fixed a smile on her face and let Caroline take center stage.

  “Thank you. That was a really nice save,” Liddy whispered when their drinks arrived. With a glance at the corner of the bar where the men still stood talking, laughing, and flirting with LeeAnn, she added, “You’d think none of them ever saw boobs before.”

  “None of them were worthy of you back then, and they’re not worthy of you now.”

  “LeeAnn deliberately broke in on my conversation and she . . . she . . . oh, I’m so pissed.” Liddy tossed back her wine as if it were water. “You know, she always was obvious. Remember the class trip junior year to New York City and the way she was making out with Tony Faselli in the back of the bus?”

  “We can talk when we get back to your house and you can bitch and moan as much as you want, but right now, you need to act like you didn’t even notice her.”

  “Right. You’re right.” Liddy took a sip of wine.

  Emma made her way over, dressed as usual in a pretty but modest dress of navy knit with a white Peter Pan collar and plain navy leather heels.

  “How does she do that?” Liddy wondered. “If I wore a dress like that, I’d look like a nun. She never does.”

  “That’s just Emma. She always looks just right.”

  “Well, so do you. You couldn’t have been blind to the fact that just about every head in this room turned when you came in,” Liddy told her.

  “You came in at the same time,” Maggie reminded her. “Don’t assume everyone was looking at me.”

  “Everyone’s used to seeing me around. You haven’t been to a reunion in years. Which makes you somewhat exotic.”

  Maggie laughed. “Believe me, there’s nothing exotic about me or my life. But you’re right. It’s been too long. Let’s mingle. Let’s get a refill for our drinks—then we’ll go and have a good time.”

  “Maybe I should have let you paint my face after all,” Liddy said with apparent reluctance as she glanced over her shoulder to the corner of the bar where LeeAnn was now holding court.

  “Don’t be silly.” Maggie leaned closer to Liddy’s ear. “If you think you have to wear makeup to attract someone’s attention, you’re wearing it for the wrong reason, and you’re trying to attract the wrong person.”

  “You were the one standing at the ready with the tools at hand,” Liddy reminded her.

  “I was doing it for you, not Rick or anyone else.” Maggie slipped an arm through Liddy’s. “I just remembered how much we loved doing our makeup when we were younger.”

  “You were trying to spruce me up and make me look more attractive, and I bitched at you.” Liddy sighed. “I’m sorry for that. Looking around here at everyone else, I guess I look a little old and tired. I don’t blame Rick for being lured away by LeeAnn’s cleavage.”

  “I thought we were talking about makeup.”

  “That too.” Liddy gestured toward the center of the room. “There’s Kay Doran. Did you know she’s working for the Boston Globe now? She covers the features desk. Let’s go catch up . . .”

  The room was crowded, but in the end Maggie made it a point to seek out everyone in it and chat, if only for a moment. Besides renewing old friendships that had sadly been allowed to fade away over the years, she was amused to see how some people had changed, while others had not. The mousy girl from AP English no one seemed to notice back then had turned into a beauty, stylish and confident in ways no one could have predicted. Conversely, the class beauty queen had really let herself go. The once exuberant, happy, beautiful girl now looked emaciated and sad. Alas, however, the class geek had avoided becoming a cliché by not growing up to be a handsome, rich lady-killer. He was still geeky, but he looked comfortable in his skin and seemed to be having a good time.

  “He isn’t coming.” Liddy came up behind Maggie, startling her.

  “Who isn’t coming?”

  Liddy rolled her eyes. “I’ve lost count of the number of times I caught you looking at the door.”

  “I wasn’t aware I’d been looking. And if I was, I wasn’t looking for anyone in particular.”

  “I just heard there was an accident out on Six. He’s working.”

  Maggie cut her off, protesting she hadn’t been looking for anyone in particular, but they both knew she’d been watching for Brett, dreading the moment he’d come through the door at the same time she was anxiously awaiting his arrival. Anybody’d be curious about an old boyfriend. It was nothing more than that, she’d told herself when they’d rehashed the evening later at Liddy’s—who’d changed for the better, who the years had
not been kind to. Who was unrecognizable, who hadn’t changed a damn bit. Her protests aside, in her heart, Maggie knew the one face she’d most wanted to see was the one that hadn’t shown.

  Chapter Three

  For Maggie, deciding in which of the Saturday events to take part had been a no-brainer. She hated golf—she’d learned to play because Art wanted her to, but she’d never taken to it. There was no way she was going to sit in the stands and watch a football game—too many memories there. So while Liddy played golf and Emma tended to the art center, Maggie joined some old friends for lunch at Mimi’s. New since Maggie’s last visit to Wyndham Beach, the restaurant was bright and pretty, with lots of glass overlooking the water and lush green plants in every window.

  There were eighteen women in the group, divided between three tables positioned closely enough to each other that the diners could take part in nearby conversations. As Liddy promised, the food was delicious, and the company engaging and downright fun. Maggie found herself seated next to Dee Olson, who, after having raised five children, trained to run marathons.

  “You run marathons?” Maggie had a vague recollection of Dee having been somewhat athletic back in the day, but marathons were a far cry from the track events they’d all been forced to participate in.

  Dee nodded, a smile on her face. “At least two a year. Sometimes three.”

  “When I was younger, I used to run every morning for about forty minutes,” Maggie confessed to Dee, “but I was never good enough to run a marathon. It’s been on my bucket list for a couple of years, though.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by ‘good enough,’” Dee replied. “Marathon running is really more a discipline. Taking your training seriously enough to make a schedule and stick to it.” She smiled wryly. “Which is why I didn’t run my first until I was in my forties. I just couldn’t stick to a schedule while my kids were still in school. At least, that was the excuse I gave myself. After the last kid left for college, I had no excuses left. I realized if I really wanted to do this, I had to stop talking about it and start taking the steps I needed to make it happen.”

  “I’m sure it was really hard,” Maggie said.

  “It got easier.” That wry smile again. “Here’s the thing. The more you run, the more you can run.”

  “Well, I admire the fact that you have the willpower to do something so demanding. I’m really impressed.”

  “If you ever get serious about it, let me know, and I’ll give you some pointers.” Dee wrote her number down on a piece of paper and handed it to Maggie. “You might like it.”

  Maggie looked at the number before slipping it into the pocket of the navy cable cardigan she’d worn over a white shirt and pants with a subtle navy-and-gray plaid. “Thanks. I just might do that.” She thought she really might. Probably would. Maybe.

  On the drive back to Liddy’s, Maggie thought more about running marathons and decided if she lived closer, she definitely would take up Dee on her offer. Before Art had fallen ill, they’d talked about joining a local running club. Now would be a good time to explore distance running. Maybe she could make it a goal to run a 5K in the spring. Several nearby towns sponsored such runs—she’d seen the advertising. She wouldn’t be up to the speed of the other runners, to be sure, but would it matter if she came in last, other than possibly a minor blow to her pride?

  Intrigued by the possibility, she made a mental note to check after she arrived home on Monday. She was also going to dig out that bucket list she’d made when she’d turned forty.

  “You made a bucket list? What else was on it?” Liddy asked when they’d reconvened in her kitchen before heading out to the dinner dance at the Harbor Inn.

  Maggie reached for one of the cheese straws she’d purchased the day before at Nibbles ’n’ Such. “Oh, buying a vacation house somewhere near the water. Writing a novel. Taking a photography class. Brushing up on my sailing skills. Traveling. Spain. Egypt. Spending a summer in Tuscany.” She shrugged. “Stuff you think about when you turn forty. How ’bout you? You have a list of things you want to do before you die?”

  “Not really. I’ve done pretty much everything I’ve ever wanted to do.” Liddy looked away, then smiled. “I guess the only thing I really want to do before I die is have sex again.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “It’s supposed to be something you’ve always wanted, Lids. Not something you’ve wanted since last week.”

  “There are no rules when it comes to the bucket list. You put on it what you want. That’s what I want. I want to have sex again. Preferably soon.”

  “Let me know if you think you’re going to get lucky later. I can probably bunk in with Emma for the night.”

  Liddy laughed. “Not to worry. I’m not going to bring anyone home tonight.”

  “Good to know. We should leave if we’re going to pick up Emma.”

  “Good point. Wrap up those cheese sticks, would you?” Liddy grabbed their wineglasses and rinsed them out before putting them into the dishwasher. “And once again, you’re going to turn heads. That dress is gorgeous on you.”

  “This old thing?” Maggie quipped, then laughed. “Found it on sale in Neiman Marcus three weeks ago. I’ve had to practically starve myself since to make sure it would fit, but I love it.”

  “Blue is definitely your color.”

  “Thank you. And that black sheath you’re wearing is perfect, if I may say so. I can’t remember the last time you wore a fitted dress. You look wonderful. Ten years younger.” Maggie grabbed her bag off the table as Liddy turned off all the lights except the one over the stove. “And I love your hair like that. You definitely rock the bun, Lids.”

  “Thank you for the kind words and thank you for pinning my hair up for me. It’s a bit more than I can handle on my own. I should probably get it trimmed sometime soon.” She gestured to the door, and Maggie opened it. “I bought this dress for Jessie’s funeral and never thought I’d wear it again. Then I saw all those girls decked out in black last night, and I decided my daughter would be pissed if she knew I’d only worn this dress that one time.”

  “I don’t know if she’d be pissed, but I do know she’d agree that you look really lovely.” Maggie peered closer. “Are you wearing . . . did you . . . ?”

  “Yes. Mascara. I’ve decided to walk on the wild side.” Liddy laughed. “I found an old tube in the bathroom and figured what the heck. And before you ask, no, I didn’t do it to attract Rick. Though I wouldn’t mind if he . . . never mind.” She brushed past Maggie and went down the back steps. “Close the door behind you, please.”

  “How old is the tube?” Maggie asked.

  “A couple of years.”

  “At the risk of sounding critical, old cosmetics can carry bacteria. You could get an infection in your eye from using old makeup.”

  “You’re the one who told me I should use it. So I use it, and you tell me I’m probably going to go blind?” Liddy opened the driver’s-side door and slid behind the wheel. When Maggie got into the passenger seat, Liddy said, “Make up your mind.”

  Liddy started the car and had her hand on the shift. They sat in silence, then they both began to laugh.

  “Sorry. For a minute there, it was almost like having Ruthie back. Even after all these years, I miss my sister. I miss arguing with her. Damn, but that girl could argue about anything, anytime. Sometimes I still miss that, you know?”

  “I do know. I miss Sarah a lot, especially when I’m in Wyndham Beach. We didn’t fight much, though.” Maggie bit the inside of her lip. Except for the day she died.

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “If she hadn’t been so mad at me, she wouldn’t have left the house in a snit. She would have been more cautious.”

  “Come on, Maggie. You were twelve. Sisters argue all the time.” Liddy raised her hand to stop whatever it was Maggie was about to say. “Okay, so you borrowed something of hers without asking, and it pissed her off.”

  “Something she’d told
me not to touch. Ever.”

  In her mind’s eye, Maggie could still see the pretty blue sweater their grandmother had sent Sarah for her birthday. Maggie’d been so jealous. What had her grandmother sent her? A doll. Granted, it was a Madame Alexander doll, but it was a doll all the same. As if Maggie were still a child and played with dolls. Then five weeks later, Sarah’s birthday gift had arrived: a cashmere sweater in the most glorious shade of pale blue. Sarah was only three years older than Maggie. It wasn’t fair that she got something so grown-up and Maggie got a little girl’s toy.

  Maggie had wanted only to try on the sweater, but Sarah had come home early from the library. She’d thrown an absolute fit when she walked into her room and found her little sister with the beautiful sweater pulled over her head. She’d screamed at Maggie, wrenched the sweater away, and bodily thrown Maggie out of her room. She’d landed in the hallway, her pride and her feelings more injured than her butt. Sarah had returned the sweater to the box, put the box on the top shelf of her closet, slammed her bedroom door, and stomped down the stairs, yelling, “Stay out of my room! Don’t you ever touch any of my things again!” She’d run out the front door, jumped on her bike, and taken off, pedaling furiously.

  Maggie never saw her alive again. Sarah, highly allergic to insect stings, had taken a shortcut through a field on her way to her best friend’s house, no doubt to complain about what a pain in the ass her little sister was. She’d ridden her bike directly over a yellow jackets’ nest, sending several of the small wasps after her. When their father found her lying in the field after she’d failed to come home that night, Sarah had eleven stings on the backs of her legs. Any one of the stings could have killed her.

  Maggie had never gotten over the guilt for the part she’d played in her sister’s death.

  “Drive.” Maggie pointed to the shift.

  Liddy put the car into reverse but didn’t drop the subject. “You were a kid, acting like a kid. It wasn’t your fault.”