Her tone belied her words.
“Good, you shouldn't worry about a thing," Pix reassured her emphatical y. "Everyone is having a marvelous time. And besides, what have we been doing since we got here? No one would leave hungry, even without the lobsters and clams. But they'l be ready soon, so we won't have to find out."
“You're right. Some years it just takes longer than others." She put down her glass and picked up one of Aunt Lily Sue's eggs from a careful y shaded area on the table.
"Don't you just love the Fourth of July celebrations? It's my favorite holiday. When I was a little girl, we'd have big picnics like this. Of course we didn't bury our food in the sand”
It must have been something more than mystifying when Louise met El iot and first heard about a Down East clambake.
“By the way, do you know that man who came with Addie and Rebecca?" Pix asked.
“Haven't you met Norman? He's been here for two weeks now. That's Addie's beau." Louise smiled. "Beau!"
“Wel , perhaps not strictly speaking, but he does dance attendance on her—and on Rebecca, too. He's an antiques dealer from New York City and he's taking a working vacation, he told them. They're to keep his room available for a month and he comes and goes”
New York City—that explained the clothes and the good haircut. Pix was trying very hard in what she hoped was the second half of her life—and look at Mother, so it was not impossible—to cultivate a more open mind about certain things, one of them being New York City. She now had a dear friend in Faith, who had actual y been born and raised there. In fact, truth be told, she might even prefer it to Aleford and Boston, although Pix was always careful never to ask outright. She didn't want to know for sure. Try as she might, the name New York City did not suggest the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building, but fast living and danger. Whenever she was there—and they dutiful y took the children, as wel as making one or two adult forays—
she felt like a rube who would leap at the chance to buy the Brooklyn Bridge before she knew what she was doing.
She looked over at the Bainbridge group, appraising Norman in light of this new information.
He certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. Whatever Addie had just said had sent him into peals of laughter.
He'd been sitting on a blanket literal y at her feet and got up now, walking toward the table with the drinks.
“Addie says he told her she's the most interesting woman he's met in years. Every time he goes off-island, he brings something back for them."
“I'l bet he just wants to get her quilts cheap," Pix said skeptical y.
“No, he doesn't sel anything made after 1900. He told her he liked her work, but they're not his `thing.' "
“Then, what do you suppose he sees in her?"
“We al take Addie for granted because we know her, but she is a great storytel er. El iot thinks Norman is writing a book. Most people are. And Addie is a great source.”
The afternoon wore on. Pix took a swim, which felt heavenly while she was in the water, but without a shower to wash off the salt, increasingly itchy later, even under her clean dry shirt. She sat down with her back against a log cast up on the shore by one of the winter storms and glanced around to check on her family, a reflex. Ursula was in deep conversation with John Eggleston, whose bright red beard and hair blended wel with the shade his face had taken on during the day. What on earth could they be discussing? Was Mother going to take up wood sculpture?
Pix would not be surprised. Sam was poking at the mound with El iot. They might have been considering a Viking tomb, given the intensity of their expressions. And Samantha was ... walking toward her.
Samantha sat next to her mother, leaned back, and stretched her long legs, almost as long as Pix's, out, wriggling her toes in the sand. The two considered the view for a moment before speaking. This one from Sylvester Cove was every bit as good as the one from The Pines, or the Mil ers' cottage, or just about anywhere else on the island Pix could name. Today there were dozens of sailboats, crisp white triangles against the dense green outer islands and the deep blue sea.
“I love the Fraziers' clambakes," Samantha said, "but not when the weather is like this. We might as wel be home, it's so hot.”
Pix nodded. She considered another beer, then decided to wait. Others had not waited and the laughter and talk was noticeably louder than it had been earlier.
Some of the children were getting whiny. It was definitely time to eat. A sudden onslaught of sand fleas sent Pix and Samantha flying from their seats.
“At least it's not blackfly season," Pix said. Nothing came close to that. They'd al worn beekeeper's hats when they'd tended the graves on Memorial Day. It had been a strange sight.
A possible discussion of "annoying insects I have known" was sharply curtailed by the noise of a loud disturbance farther down the beach. It was moving toward them.
“It's that jerk Duncan!" Samantha said as she moved closer. Pix fol owed, out of curiosity and to get away from the fleas.
“I'm speaking to you, young man! Don't you walk away from me!" It was Valerie. Her face was red, and as she'd been wearing a fetching sun hat since she arrived, it wasn't from a burn. She was absolutely furious.
“Fuck you!" Duncan answered, and kept walking.
“I saw that beer can in your hand! Don't you lie to me!”
Duncan stopped and turned to face his mother. "So what? Only grown-ups can get wasted?" He said this last in the jeering singsong tones of a smal child. Pix marveled at Valerie's self-control. Sure, she was yel ing, but had Duncan been Pix's son, she would have had him by the arm by now and marched him straight to the car.
Jim appeared. He'd been swimming and was dripping wet. It magnified his rage—a bul from the sea.
He stood next to his wife.
“Don't you ever talk that way to your mother again!
Where do you get off using words like that? Now, I've had just about al I'm going to take from you. Get in the car.
You're going home."
“Home?" Duncan screamed. "You cal that `home'?
Your home maybe, not mine!”
Valerie stepped forward and put her hand on his arm.
"Now Duncan, let's calm down...
He pushed her away rudely and she went sprawling in the sand. Everyone on the beach froze for an instant, including Duncan. He stared at his mother and seemed about to reach for her before noticing Jim virtual y foaming at the mouth.
Duncan took off, the tiny red lights of his sneakers blinking frantical y in the late-afternoon light.
“Let him go," Valerie said to her husband. "He needs to be alone." She brushed the sand from her white pants, adjusted her hat, and said to everyone with a big smile, "I apologize for my son. In his case, adolescence real y is a disease. I only wish there were shots for it.”
People laughed and Jim let out what seemed like the breath he'd been holding since confronting his stepson. He hugged Valerie and echoed her sentiments. "My parents always said someday I'd get mine the way they got theirs from me, and boy, were they right!"
“I don't believe it," Samantha said. She and Pix were on the fringes of the group.
“About Jim, you mean?"
“Yeah, I don't believe he was ever the way Duncan is.
And he's definitely not the type who got in trouble when he was a kid. More the kind other parents wanted their kids to be like.”
Pix was not unduly surprised at her daughter's analysis. Samantha was a good judge of character.
“I agree. Plus, I happen to know for a fact Jim was an Eagle Scout. But I think you're being a little hard on Duncan.
He may feel like the odd person out in that big house. And he must miss his father terribly. Then, the move couldn't have been easy."