The Summer Sail Page 8

  Abby dissolved into giggles. “Well, I guess that answers your question!”

  Caroline shook her head. “One of these days, that’s going to be us, ladies, so you’d better stop laughing.”

  “Never. No way. I will never allow my skin to turn that dark.” Lee shuddered. “That cannot be healthy.”

  Abby spotted the boys off in a far corner of the pool. They were trying to get a game of water polo going with Lacey, but they kept hitting strangers with the ball. Abby was about to call out that they might want to consider another game but then thought better of it. The boys were sixteen, for goodness’ sake. They ought to be able to figure it out for themselves. Plus, if she intervened, someone might need her. And Abby did not want to be needed right now.

  She settled back in her chair and closed her eyes. To her left, a woman with a thick Brooklyn accent was bossing her husband about where to set up her chair. Abby would recognize that accent anywhere—she and Sam had lived in Manhattan briefly, before the kids, and Abby had disliked nearly every minute. She was a person who needed wide vistas to look out on, long sweeps of land, preferably with a lake or an ocean nearby. Whenever she found herself in the city, she’d look up and experience a profound sense of vertigo, all those buildings stretching to the sky. In the summertime, the air conditioners from the apartments above would drip down on her arm as she walked by. That sensation—an unexpected ping! of condensation on her bare skin—and the smell of baking nuts mingling with hot, humid air were what she remembered most about New York summers.

  Cruising was much more pleasant, indeed.

  She rolled over onto her stomach. When she’d first suggested the cruise, it had taken some arm-twisting to get Sam on board. It was a vacation that sounded idyllic in theory but could easily go haywire. Eventually, however, she’d convinced him it was the perfect anniversary getaway. Sam was a traveler, a journey-goer. She was more of a nester, inclined to escape to a summer home, someplace quaint and swept by an ocean breeze. On a cruise, Sam would get his journey, while Abby could plant herself poolside. She didn’t necessarily have to move; the ship would move her to their destination, and the boys would have nonstop entertainment.

  She felt a hand brush across her shoulder and lifted her head to see Sam. “Hi there. I’m going in search of refreshments. Anyone want anything?” Abby shielded her eyes with her hand to better see in the sun’s glare. She had to stifle a laugh because her husband was dressed in khaki shorts, a red and white Hawaiian shirt, dark glasses, and a Red Sox cap.

  “No thanks, honey. You look like you’re on the America’s Most Wanted list, by the way.”

  “Really? That bad?” He held out his shirt and stared at it. “I thought I was channeling my inner vacationer. Your boyfriend, incidentally, is quite the golfer, Caroline.”

  “I’ll bet you let him win,” said Caroline. “Sam the Saint.”

  “Ah, we were just hitting balls.” Ever since college, the roommates had tagged Sam with this moniker, largely because he seemed to always be rescuing people, popping up unexpectedly on campus. Need a few extra dollars? Ask Sam. No place to go for winter break? Sam will invite you home. When he’d first asked Abby out (sophomore year, the holiday dance, over a bowl of spiked punch), she’d assumed he was drunk (he was). But when he actually showed up at her door the next day for a date, she’d panicked. What if Sam Bingham was too good for her? No one wanted to date a guy who made you look bad.

  And what would he think once he learned that she’d grown up on the Cape, a place where his family only “summered”? How could she sleep in the same bed with someone who was so self-assured, when she always scrubbed her face raw and plopped her mouth guard in before bedtime? Once Sam realized who the real Abby was, she was sure he’d call Fore! Fortunately, though, it turned out that her husband-to-be had a few quirks of his own: he slept with his socks on, was a book nerd, and had a snore that could wake a small village. Then, when Abby’s parents died in quick succession, it was Sam who’d propped her up. He may have been born with a silver spoon, but his core was solid granite.

  “Well, in that case, I shall return,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “You’re sure you don’t want anything?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “Everything’s perfect.”

  By the time she woke from her nap, the sun had nudged its way to the west. Abby sat up and glanced around, trying to get her bearings. Sam must have wandered off in search of more lively conversation. Caroline’s towel was gone. Abby dug her watch out of her bag and saw that it was two o’clock—only four hours till the ship docked in Bermuda. Next to her Lee and Lacey were chattering in their chaise lounges.

  “Really, Mom,” Lacey was saying. “You should care more about your environment. It’s the world your grandchildren are going to grow up in after all.”

  “You’ll be happy to know,” Lee replied, “that I recycle so much that I had to buy one of those oversize recycling bins. It’s as tall as a trash can.”

  “Whoa, you’re really hitting it out of the park,” said Lacey truculently.

  Poor Lee, thought Abby. She was trying so hard, but Lacey wouldn’t give her a break. Abby was tempted to point out that Lee had raised Lacey single-handedly (no small feat), not to mention she was teaching preschoolers how to write their names and responsibly share their Lego blocks. To Abby’s mind, those things alone counted for plenty of good karmic payback. There was no need to wag an accusing finger. In fact, a big fat thank-you seemed in order.

  She was about to say something to that effect when Lee spoke up. “If you’re so intent on saving the world, honey, why don’t you major in something like environmental studies or marine biology? Even the law. You could go work for the Nature Conservancy.”

  “Here we go again,” Lacey said. “I was wondering how long it would take before the ‘college’ talk started.” She twisted in her seat to look at Abby. “Mom thinks I’m wasting my college education.”

  “I never said that, honey. I’d just like you to declare a major, settle on something you want to do with your life.” Lee glanced at Abby for support. Abby stretched her neck from side to side, debating how best to get involved without seeming to take sides.

  “Well, it can’t hurt to start thinking about it, Lacey,” she began. “Let’s see. What did we want to do when we were sophomores in college, Lee? Do you remember?”

  “I was going to be a lawyer.”

  “Oh great, so now it’s my fault that you didn’t go to law school?” Lacey demanded.

  “No, that’s not what I said. Why do you have to be so defensive? I love teaching.”

  “Remember how we were going to change the world?” Abby tried again. “We were so idealistic back then.”

  “See?” Lacey countered. “You guys didn’t know what you were going to do either. Or if you did, it all changed anyway. My point exactly.” She folded her arms across her chest, a tennis player who’d just won a volley.

  “You know,” Lee continued, “it was a different time back then. Everyone was talking about how all these doors were opening for women, and we felt a certain responsibility to take advantage of that. You know, stand on the shoulders of those who came before us. Sometimes I think you take it for granted that you have all the opportunities you do today.”

  Lacey stiffened. “Yeah, I get it.” She stood up from her chair. “I’ve heard the lecture before. I’m grateful, okay?” She grabbed her towel and bag. “Anyway, thanks for the pep talk.” She turned on her heel and strutted off, leaving the two of them to stare at each other.

  “Was it something I said?” Lee asked, and Abby laughed.

  “It’s hard, but you should be proud, Lee. You’ve raised a smart girl who can think for herself.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not sure how much thinking she does. She usually just assumes that whatever position I take, she’ll take the opposite.”

  “But that’s her job. She’s separating from you.”

  “Oh, is that what it’s called? I thoug
ht it was more like torturing me.”

  Abby laughed. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I get that with the boys, too.”

  “When Lacey was little,” Lee continued, “she was like this fragile flower that needed watering every day or else she would wilt. But now that she’s grown up, I feel like she’s turned into this prickly cactus. One that shoots darts at me without the slightest provocation.” Lee groaned. “Whatever it is, I hope it ends soon. Do you think she intends to be a pain in the ass for the entire cruise or just part of it?”

  Abby laughed sympathetically. “Oh, lovey,” she said. “We can only pray it’s the latter.”

  7

  Lacey went in search of Chris and Ryan, far, far away from her mother. She got that her mom was worried, but seriously, she needed to lay off. Lacey would get a job—eventually. Maybe. But she was only a sophomore! And what consumed her thoughts most days was Tyler. She hated not being able to contact him while she was on the ship. Even when he was in New York and she was home in Charleston, they could text each other all the time—he might as well have been downstairs in her living room. But now, without any Wi-Fi connection for two straight days, Lacey was going slightly insane.

  Ryan had told her that there were coffee shops in Bermuda where, if she paid for a latte, she could get free Internet service for an hour. It was the first thing she was going to do when they stepped onto land. Text Tyler that she missed him terribly.

  She and Tyler already knew what kind of wedding they wanted—smallish with just their families and closest friends. Lacey was not the kind of girl who fantasized about her wedding day like some of her girlfriends. It made no sense to her to spend thousands of dollars on a dress and a party that would last for one day. And Tyler wasn’t into that kind of stuff either. He got that marriage was about bigger things—like love and commitment and family.

  They’d both agreed that two kids was the perfect number—one girl, one boy. The boy would have Tyler’s deep dimples and dark, curly hair. The girl would have Lacey’s brown eyes and, teased Tyler, her pouty lips. (After their first kiss, he’d told Lacey that she had Brigitte Bardot lips. That night, she’d gone back to her dorm room and googled “Bardot,” failing to see any resemblance whatsoever. But if her boyfriend wanted to compare her lips to those of a blond bombshell, it was fine by Lacey.)

  She was so tired of listening to her mom and friends talk about how hard they’d had to work to get to where they were in life, in their careers. It was the old “walked uphill to school and back,” story, which, of course, was theoretically impossible. Lacey understood that the women’s movement was important. She’d learned all about it in her women’s studies course, thank you. But what her mom and Abby and Caroline didn’t seem to realize was that things had moved on. They needed to get over the notion that Lacey should single-handedly carry the torch for all women. That she should become a U.N. ambassador or President of the United States. As far as Lacey was concerned, women were already equal. If Hillary Clinton could run for president, then what was left? Well, winning, she supposed.

  Lacey was grateful for her privileges, but that didn’t mean she had to dedicate the rest of her life to paying previous generations back. And, if she were being completely honest, sometimes it seemed like her mom’s generation had gotten it all wrong. In their race to shatter glass ceilings, many of them had put their own families on hold. Look at Caroline, Lacey thought. She loved Caroline, but her aunt had dedicated her whole life to her career—and look where it had gotten her. She was still alone (well, technically, if she didn’t count Javier).

  When Abby had asked Lacey by the pool how she was getting along with her roommate, Lacey had said, “Great. She’s really nice. From North Dakota,” instead of telling the truth. Which was that Lacey hardly ever saw Grace. They had been amiable enough dining hall partners those first few weeks of school when no one knew anyone else. But Grace was on the freshman soccer team, which meant that she already had her own group of friends to hang with and that most weekends she spent on the road for games. Then Lacey had met Tyler, and a month later she’d more or less moved into his dorm room. (He’d been one of the fortunate few to get a freshman single.) So, no, Lacey didn’t have the kind of roommate bond that her mom and her friends shared. It was a little disappointing, she supposed, but she didn’t feel as if she was missing out on anything because, well, Tyler.

  Lacey wanted a family so bad she could taste it. She wanted a husband and the house with the white picket fence and the two kids and a dog. She wanted neighborhood barbecues, the dads smoking cigars and the moms standing around, comparing notes on the best teachers and Crock-Pot recipes. She wanted a boy who would grow up to mow the lawn, play sports with his dad, and maybe have a soft spot in his heart for his mom. She longed for a daughter who might look a bit like her but would be sweet, not angry. Her daughter would have no reason to carry a chip on her shoulder because she’d have a dad and a mom who adored her and a brother, who, though he might poke fun at her, would defend her like a bulldog if anyone tried to pick on her.

  That was what Lacey wanted, what she aspired to. Her dream. Her mom didn’t get it. But did she want it all now? What if her dream of a family was about to begin? Before she even graduated from college? Before she and Tyler had a chance to get properly engaged and married? The thought of it both excited and terrified her. Her mom would kill her if she was pregnant.

  Lacey told herself she was being silly. Girls were late all the time, and her period had been erratic before. But it was five days now, and that was pushing it, even for her. She tried not to think about it. Eventually, it would arrive, and then she’d laugh at how stupid she’d been, thinking she might actually be pregnant!

  On the upper-deck basketball court, sprawled along the sidelines, she found the boys.

  “Hey,” she said, folding herself down next to Ryan.

  “Hey,” said Chris, not even turning around to glance her way. He was talking to a random girl with a tiny rose tattoo on her shoulder. She was gorgeous—and older than Chris by at least a few years.

  “Hi,” Ryan said, sounding relieved to have company. “Where’ve you been?”

  “Getting lectured by my mom on the lido deck.”

  He made a whistling noise. “That’s rough. You should have just come with us earlier.”

  “Yeah, live and learn.” She paused and watched as one guy landed a dunk shot on the opposite court. There was something strange about having bright blue sky above and blue water on either side of them, as if they were watching basketball on a court suspended in midair.

  Her mind looped back to when her friend Hannah first told her that Tyler Sharp thought she was hot, and Lacey had said, “Yeah, right.” But then one night he’d stopped by the dorm when they were all watching football in the common room, and Tyler had plopped down on the armrest of the couch, right next to her. Lacey had played it cool, pretending to watch the game. “Hey,” he’d said. “Hey, back,” she’d replied.

  After a few minutes, he’d asked, “So you like football?” Lacey didn’t particularly enjoy the game (and if Tyler had pressed, he would have discovered she didn’t even know what a two-point conversion was), but he was a running back on their team. So, she’d feigned interest. Plus, by that point, her heart was racing. “Yeah, sure,” she’d said, watching the smile ride across his face. The next thing she knew, he was asking her if she wanted to take a walk. And the next, next thing, Tyler Sharp was kissing her just beyond the steps of her dorm, his lips sweet and tender against hers, his hands running through her hair.

  Ryan flung down the book he’d been reading, The Grapes of Wrath. Patches of pool water dimpled the cover.

  “No good?”

  He shrugged. “Not really. Summer reading.”

  “Ugh. I used to hate summer reading. As if you don’t get enough homework during the school year.”

  “I know, right?” Ryan leaned back on his elbows. “I actually think reading the book is making me wrathful.”
<
br />   “Ha! Good one.” Lacey grinned. She vaguely remembered slogging through the Depression-era novel during her senior year in high school. She recalled over four hundred pages of dust and wind and general misery.

  “Hey, do you guys want to head to the grill?” Chris asked, extricating himself from the girl with the dark hair for a moment.

  Lacey glanced at Ryan, who shrugged. “Sure,” she answered for them both and jumped up to pull Ryan to his feet.

  At the grill, the boys ordered burgers, and Lacey asked for a soda. Chris plopped into a lounge chair next to Tattoo Girl. Lacey rolled her eyes and followed Ryan to a table.

  “What’s with the girl?” she asked.

  Ryan shrugged. “You know my brother. Wherever he goes, the women are sure to follow.”

  “Does she have a name?”

  “Yeah, Trisha or Tina, maybe? Something like that. Maybe Tiara?”

  Lacey snorted. Tiara somehow seemed fitting for the regal, entitled air about the girl. Not that Lacey was judging, but would it kill her to say hi? When the other kids from the basketball game joined them, Lacey scooted her chair over to make room. She had to admit, she was impressed: Chris and Ryan had formed their own little maritime clique in two short days.

  Ryan bit into his cheeseburger, sending a spurt of grease down his chin, and swiped at it with the back of his hand. “So, I guess we’ll be seeing Bermuda soon.”

  “Yeah, thank God,” Lacey said. “Finally, we’ll have Internet connection.” She fiddled with her straw wrapper, tying it into little knots. “I mean, the cruise is fun and all, but I’ll be glad to be on land for a few days.” Ryan nodded, his gaze lingering a bit too long, as if she’d just said something profound. Lacey frowned, and Ryan dropped his eyes.

  “Yeah, totally,” he said, and his cheeks flared with color.

  Only then did it dawn on her: Ryan (little Ryan!) had a crush on her. Lacey shook her head and laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” He lifted his head and met her gaze.