peered at her from an odd
angle, apparently trying to see if he recognized her from
television. “Are you really a celebrity?”
His sincerity drew out her lips in a smile.
“A minnow in a sea of whales, Jimmy.” She extracted a hand-written
invitation from its linen paper envelope. It was for a supper in
her honor. Mrs. Tyler noted she’d read all of Caro’s poetry and
could hardly wait to meet her in person. She’d have each of her
books open and waiting for a personal autograph.
Caro hesitated. She would like to have asked
Nina about Mrs. Tyler before giving her answer. But she didn’t want
to risk being rude to someone who appreciated her work. Anyway, it
was only one supper. “Tell her, thanks. I look forward to meeting
her as well.”
After Jimmy left, Caro trudged next door
over the dunes to talk to Nina. She found her wearing her apron and
holding a whisk.
Caro lifted a mug from its chrome hook and
held it out for Nina to fill. “Got a batch of chocolate chunk to
put in for Tommy and then I’m done.”
“What do you know about the Tylers?” Caro
asked.
Nina folded the chocolate into the batter,
offering the spoon to Caro for a lick. “You got the invitation,
huh? Are you going?”
“Hard to say no when I’m the star guest. I
was just wondering what I was getting myself into.”
“It’ll be a superlative gig,” Nina said.
“Phyllis Tyler doesn’t do anything half-assed. She’s a patron of
the arts. Donated the bulk of the money to restore the
library.”
“Do you know her well?”
“Tommy more than me. Both families bought in
Westhampton long before it became chic so they’ve known each other
for eons. Aside from that, she’s one of his favorite clients. Very
down to earth. Soft-spoken and easy to please. A real lady and not
at all the Hampton socialite type. You’ll love her.”
“Sounds great then, as long as you and Tommy
are going.” Caro peeked into the family and living rooms. “Where is
he anyway?”
Nina banged the whisk against the rim of the
copper bowl. “Out.”
“And Livia?”
A wave of angry disdain transformed Nina’s
calm exterior. “With him. He thinks I’m perverting her.” With that
she stomped into her office and came out waving a photo mailer.
“Look at these and tell me what you think.”
Caro withdrew and raised her hands, refusing
to take them. “I’m the wrong one to ask.”
Nina shoved the mailer at Caro’s chest.
“You’re an intelligent person with a PhD. A mother, for God’s sake,
with opinions. All I want is an objective opinion.”
Caro slid the photographs from the cardboard
sleeve. Afraid of what she was going to see, she scanned them
quickly and squeamishly with her eyes half-shut. Instead of being
repulsed, however, the shock she experienced originated from the
preview of brilliance she saw.
Several of them were taken on the beach
right outside Tommy and Nina’s house at the moment the sun began to
set. Livia was in a cotton slip just as Nina had said, but it was a
see-through gauzy cotton that revealed her figure. There was also a
definite sensuousness to her pose—the way Livia looked askance at
the camera over her shoulder, her hand resting on her thigh. Even
her hair was different. Gone was the customary ribbon on the tail
of her braid; her hair hung like a curtain hiding half her face so
that she seemed to be flirting with the camera.
In another photo Livia had her back to the
camera. She wore a scanty sarong; her arms were extended so that
her figure formed the shape of a cross. Her wet hair formed a long
wave over her bare shoulder. The black-and-white treatment cast a
dark, angry-looking ocean in the background.
Livia came across as being timid and coy at
the same time, a metaphorical encapsulation of the complex network
of emotions that arises during the transition from girlhood to
womanhood.
Caro was speechless.
“What?” Nina begged finally. “I can’t stand
your silence a second longer.”
Caro shook her
angle, apparently trying to see if he recognized her from
television. “Are you really a celebrity?”
His sincerity drew out her lips in a smile.
“A minnow in a sea of whales, Jimmy.” She extracted a hand-written
invitation from its linen paper envelope. It was for a supper in
her honor. Mrs. Tyler noted she’d read all of Caro’s poetry and
could hardly wait to meet her in person. She’d have each of her
books open and waiting for a personal autograph.
Caro hesitated. She would like to have asked
Nina about Mrs. Tyler before giving her answer. But she didn’t want
to risk being rude to someone who appreciated her work. Anyway, it
was only one supper. “Tell her, thanks. I look forward to meeting
her as well.”
After Jimmy left, Caro trudged next door
over the dunes to talk to Nina. She found her wearing her apron and
holding a whisk.
Caro lifted a mug from its chrome hook and
held it out for Nina to fill. “Got a batch of chocolate chunk to
put in for Tommy and then I’m done.”
“What do you know about the Tylers?” Caro
asked.
Nina folded the chocolate into the batter,
offering the spoon to Caro for a lick. “You got the invitation,
huh? Are you going?”
“Hard to say no when I’m the star guest. I
was just wondering what I was getting myself into.”
“It’ll be a superlative gig,” Nina said.
“Phyllis Tyler doesn’t do anything half-assed. She’s a patron of
the arts. Donated the bulk of the money to restore the
library.”
“Do you know her well?”
“Tommy more than me. Both families bought in
Westhampton long before it became chic so they’ve known each other
for eons. Aside from that, she’s one of his favorite clients. Very
down to earth. Soft-spoken and easy to please. A real lady and not
at all the Hampton socialite type. You’ll love her.”
“Sounds great then, as long as you and Tommy
are going.” Caro peeked into the family and living rooms. “Where is
he anyway?”
Nina banged the whisk against the rim of the
copper bowl. “Out.”
“And Livia?”
A wave of angry disdain transformed Nina’s
calm exterior. “With him. He thinks I’m perverting her.” With that
she stomped into her office and came out waving a photo mailer.
“Look at these and tell me what you think.”
Caro withdrew and raised her hands, refusing
to take them. “I’m the wrong one to ask.”
Nina shoved the mailer at Caro’s chest.
“You’re an intelligent person with a PhD. A mother, for God’s sake,
with opinions. All I want is an objective opinion.”
Caro slid the photographs from the cardboard
sleeve. Afraid of what she was going to see, she scanned them
quickly and squeamishly with her eyes half-shut. Instead of being
repulsed, however, the shock she experienced originated from the
preview of brilliance she saw.
Several of them were taken on the beach
right outside Tommy and Nina’s house at the moment the sun began to
set. Livia was in a cotton slip just as Nina had said, but it was a
see-through gauzy cotton that revealed her figure. There was also a
definite sensuousness to her pose—the way Livia looked askance at
the camera over her shoulder, her hand resting on her thigh. Even
her hair was different. Gone was the customary ribbon on the tail
of her braid; her hair hung like a curtain hiding half her face so
that she seemed to be flirting with the camera.
In another photo Livia had her back to the
camera. She wore a scanty sarong; her arms were extended so that
her figure formed the shape of a cross. Her wet hair formed a long
wave over her bare shoulder. The black-and-white treatment cast a
dark, angry-looking ocean in the background.
Livia came across as being timid and coy at
the same time, a metaphorical encapsulation of the complex network
of emotions that arises during the transition from girlhood to
womanhood.
Caro was speechless.
“What?” Nina begged finally. “I can’t stand
your silence a second longer.”
Caro shook her
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