and getting their boarding passes pleasantly, automatically, as they had done a thousand times before. Their strides matched evenly as theywalked swiftly through the crowded halls, past newsstands, fast-food boutiques, and coffee shops, from security checkpoint to gate. Worth tapped memos into his BlackBerry as they sat on the hard plastic chairs at the Cape Airlines gate waiting for their flight to be called. Helen read a book, or pretended to.
In fact, her mind whirled with questions. With whom was Worth having an affair? Someone from the bank, a sleek young secretary or administrative assistant? Perhaps a widow or a divorcée? No. Worth would never call a woman of Helen’s age “Sweet Cakes.” It had to be a younger woman, a much younger woman, with her breasts still riding high above her rib cage and her skin free of stretch marks. How long had this been going on? What kind of wife was Helen, to have been so oblivious—to have gone about her life in such a carefree manner, unaware that her husband was having sex with another woman?
Their flight was called and they boarded the nine-seater prop jet that carried them to Nantucket. It skimmed south, above the coast, humming and rackety and too noisy for conversation. The day was brilliant with sunshine, the water below infinitely blue.
Worth’s sister, Grace, was at the airport to meet them in her father’s beloved 1949 Chrysler woody convertible.
“Worth! Helen! On time! Good for you!” Grace hugged them, then grabbed one of their suitcases and led the way out to the car.
It was a relief to be with Grace, who jabbered away enthusiastically about all the plans she’d made for Nona’s birthday the entire time it took to drive out to the house. Not that Helen could hear her. Grace liked to drive with the top down, and it was a beautiful day for a ride in a convertible, but Worth with his long legs got the passenger seat in front behind the windshield, and Helen was wedged into the back with the luggage, where the wind beat at her face and tugged at her hair. She felt oddly calmed, caught like a leaf spinning on the stream of the family’s life. She could only let herself be carried along. Other thoughts had to wait.
Grace slowed on Polpis Road for the turn onto Nona’s land, and there was Charlotte’s little market-garden stand. Charlotte was there, too, and now Helen’s thoughts receded in a wave of love and delight at the sight of her wonderful daughter.
Charlotte was dressed like a farmer in striped overalls and boots and a straw hat, and Helen remembered all the costumes Charlotte had worn in her life. Her favorite pastime as a child was to play dress-up, raiding the trunks in Nona’s attics. Charlotte was Helen’s Gemini child, with at least two personalities. She was smart, hardworking, and kindhearted, but she had never been very practical. She was idealistic, a dreamer, and in spite of her attempts to seem businesslike with this garden, Helen was afraid Charlotte still had her head in the clouds.
“Hello!” Helen waved at her daughter, who waved back.
Charlotte was talking with Bill Cooper from the house next door. He was a handsome man, and Helen looked forward to seeing his parents tomorrow at Nona’s party. They were on the guest list, Grace had informed Helen, and she was glad. They weren’t close with the Coopers, but they’d known them forever, played tennis with them occasionally, had cocktails on the Coopers’ deck or in Nona’s garden or on the Coopers’ yacht. Felicity and Mark Cooper had had only one child, Bill. Helen thought Mark had wanted his son to follow him into his business in real estate. Instead, Coop had wandered around, trying different jobs, a bit of this, a bit of that, a bachelor’s degree in English literature, which would help him get no job at all, and, later, a master’s degree in computer science, which did, after a few years, pay off. Coop was self-supporting now with his software business, at least that
In fact, her mind whirled with questions. With whom was Worth having an affair? Someone from the bank, a sleek young secretary or administrative assistant? Perhaps a widow or a divorcée? No. Worth would never call a woman of Helen’s age “Sweet Cakes.” It had to be a younger woman, a much younger woman, with her breasts still riding high above her rib cage and her skin free of stretch marks. How long had this been going on? What kind of wife was Helen, to have been so oblivious—to have gone about her life in such a carefree manner, unaware that her husband was having sex with another woman?
Their flight was called and they boarded the nine-seater prop jet that carried them to Nantucket. It skimmed south, above the coast, humming and rackety and too noisy for conversation. The day was brilliant with sunshine, the water below infinitely blue.
Worth’s sister, Grace, was at the airport to meet them in her father’s beloved 1949 Chrysler woody convertible.
“Worth! Helen! On time! Good for you!” Grace hugged them, then grabbed one of their suitcases and led the way out to the car.
It was a relief to be with Grace, who jabbered away enthusiastically about all the plans she’d made for Nona’s birthday the entire time it took to drive out to the house. Not that Helen could hear her. Grace liked to drive with the top down, and it was a beautiful day for a ride in a convertible, but Worth with his long legs got the passenger seat in front behind the windshield, and Helen was wedged into the back with the luggage, where the wind beat at her face and tugged at her hair. She felt oddly calmed, caught like a leaf spinning on the stream of the family’s life. She could only let herself be carried along. Other thoughts had to wait.
Grace slowed on Polpis Road for the turn onto Nona’s land, and there was Charlotte’s little market-garden stand. Charlotte was there, too, and now Helen’s thoughts receded in a wave of love and delight at the sight of her wonderful daughter.
Charlotte was dressed like a farmer in striped overalls and boots and a straw hat, and Helen remembered all the costumes Charlotte had worn in her life. Her favorite pastime as a child was to play dress-up, raiding the trunks in Nona’s attics. Charlotte was Helen’s Gemini child, with at least two personalities. She was smart, hardworking, and kindhearted, but she had never been very practical. She was idealistic, a dreamer, and in spite of her attempts to seem businesslike with this garden, Helen was afraid Charlotte still had her head in the clouds.
“Hello!” Helen waved at her daughter, who waved back.
Charlotte was talking with Bill Cooper from the house next door. He was a handsome man, and Helen looked forward to seeing his parents tomorrow at Nona’s party. They were on the guest list, Grace had informed Helen, and she was glad. They weren’t close with the Coopers, but they’d known them forever, played tennis with them occasionally, had cocktails on the Coopers’ deck or in Nona’s garden or on the Coopers’ yacht. Felicity and Mark Cooper had had only one child, Bill. Helen thought Mark had wanted his son to follow him into his business in real estate. Instead, Coop had wandered around, trying different jobs, a bit of this, a bit of that, a bachelor’s degree in English literature, which would help him get no job at all, and, later, a master’s degree in computer science, which did, after a few years, pay off. Coop was self-supporting now with his software business, at least that
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