The Summer We Started Over, page 16
Barrett thought it would have to be a saint who looked like Ryan Reynolds to compete with Drew for Janny’s love.
Barrett saw little of Drew because she was working twenty-seven hours a day in her shop. At least it seemed that way. Drew was in Boston during the week, sometimes coming to the island late Friday or Saturday night. When he couldn’t come on the weekend, he sent small, tasteful presents—to help her remember him, he said. A box of Godiva chocolates. A copy of Ann Patchett’s latest novel. A box of multicolored paper clips. The gifts made her laugh.
One Sunday Drew did get to the island for the day. He brought a picnic basket from Formaggio Kitchen in Cambridge, and they spent the afternoon on the beach. They walked, collected shells, swam, lay in the sun, and kissed, but casually, because so many other people were around.
“I don’t want to leave you,” Drew said that evening. “Come with me.”
Barrett laughed. “I have my shop, remember?”
“Janny’s running it today. She could open it tomorrow. We could spend the night together and I’d fly you back to the island tomorrow morning.” His eyes were dark with desire, and the invitation was tempting. “Or, she could be there for the weekend, and you and I could do anything we want.”
Barrett was irritated by Drew’s suggestion. She was making her living by running a shop that she hoped she’d have for years. Even decades. She had customers and friends and new objects to put out. And really, Janny couldn’t run the shop by herself.
Yet Drew was making puppy eyes at her. She smiled at him. “Stop it.”
“Tell me you’ll come with me someday.”
“Someday,” she whispered. Someday could be weeks, months, years away.
* * *
—
In the middle of July, Barrett invited Drew to dinner at her house. She wanted to explain to Drew that this didn’t mean she was getting serious, and it didn’t mean that it had a “meet the family” kind of importance, but actually, she did want Eddie to get to know him, because she valued Eddie’s judgment. Plus, she needed Drew to see how her family lived.
Eddie volunteered to make dinner. Barrett asked Janny to run Nantucket Blues alone until closing time at nine. She gave her a key so she could lock the door, feeling uneasy about this extreme measure of trust, even though Janny was over the moon because Barrett was going to be with Drew. Still, Barrett decided to phone Janny just after nine to be sure the girl had remembered to lock the door.
That night, Barrett raced home at five-thirty, took a shower, put on a cute sundress, and flew down to the kitchen to help Eddie.
Eddie was in the kitchen, wearing jean shorts and a halter top. Barrett winced when she saw Eddie’s clothes. She wanted her sister to look just a little more covered, but she knew if she dared say anything, Eddie would probably stalk out of the house and drive away.
“He’s coming at six-thirty, right?” Eddie asked.
“Right,” Barrett said.
“We’re having a summer meal,” Eddie told her. “Grilled swordfish, potato salad, green salad, and strawberry shortcake.”
“That’s perfect!” Barrett peeked in the refrigerator.
“I actually made the shortcake for the dessert,” Eddie told her. “But I can’t improve on Reddi-wip.”
“What can I do?” Barrett asked.
“Set the table. Slice some limes for drinks. Put out a bowl of nuts. I’m going up to change.” Eddie noticed Barrett’s look of relief. “You thought I was going to meet him like this, right?”
“Of course not,” Barrett lied. “How many places shall I set?”
“Five, I guess. Me, you, Drew, Dad, Dinah.”
“Dinah’s eating here tonight?” Barrett tried not to wince.
“Do you have a problem with that? Would you prefer that I take her dinner on a tray so she can eat in the bedroom?”
“Don’t be silly, Eddie. It’s only that she usually eats out in the evening.”
“She wouldn’t miss this for the world. She’s eating here tonight so she and I can thoroughly discuss your new beau afterward.” Eddie flicked a dish towel at Barrett and went out of the room.
Barrett set the table with their everyday china, so she wouldn’t seem like she was trying too hard to impress Drew. She picked some vibrant zinnias from their backyard and set them in her favorite white ironstone pitcher, the one her grandmother had used. Their bright colors gave the table a homey, festive look. Or did they? Barrett stood studying the flowers, almost in a trance of anticipation, when her father came out of his study and Dinah came down the stairs and Drew knocked on the door, and Eddie raced to open it.
Eddie was wearing a plain linen dress in a light sand color and no jewelry. In one glance, Barrett realized this and knew Eddie was allowing Barrett to be the one to shine.
“Hello!” Eddie pulled the door open. “You must be Drew! Come in. I’m Eddie, Barrett’s older and much wiser sister.”
“Hi, Eddie,” Drew replied, stepping into the front hall. He wore khakis and a blue button-down shirt and he held a bouquet of sunflowers wrapped in the special paper of Flowers on Chestnut.
Barrett stepped forward. “Hi, Drew. Oh, thanks for these. Come in and meet everyone else.”
They gathered in the living room. Barrett made the introductions. Her father looked normal, in chinos and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Dinah looked—well, Dinah never looked normal—like an actress trying out for the part of a forty-year-old Barbie. Her dress was pink, swirly, and extremely low cut. Actually, she looked fabulous. Eddie offered to put the flowers in water while Barrett got the drinks, and for a moment they were together in the kitchen whispering just like they had a thousand times before.
“He’s handsome,” Eddie said. “But what are you going to do with these sunflowers? They’re so big, and there are so many of them. They make your zinnias look pitiful. But if you put these on the table, no one will be able to see anyone else.”
“Thank you for pointing out the painfully obvious,” Barrett snapped. “I’ll put them in a vase on the bureau. I’m taking Drew’s G and T in to him, and I’ve got the same for Dad. You can handle the rest.”
“I’ll try not to make a mistake.” Eddie curtsied and replied in one of her downstairs Downton Abbey accents.
Barrett served the drinks and settled in the living room.
“Our pharmaceutical company is relatively small,” Drew said, speaking to William.
“I’m surprised anything about you is small,” Dinah said, blinking her lashes like a starstruck teenager.
“Dinah, stop it,” Barrett hissed.
Eddie saved the conversation by asking if Drew followed the Red Sox. After that, their father and Drew engaged in a hearty conversation about sports. Eddie and Barrett slipped away to put dinner on the table. They made Dinah come with them.
“What do you want me to do?” Dinah asked when they entered the kitchen.
“I want you to stop with the flirty talk for the rest of the evening,” Barrett ordered.
“Barrett!” Eddie put her hand on her sister’s arm, trying to calm her.
“Barrett, I apologize,” Dinah said. “It just slipped out. I mean, look at the man. But I promise I’ll be good now.”
And she was. The rest of the evening went smoothly. Eddie grilled the swordfish steaks to perfection. Everyone had a glass of cool Chardonnay, and no one drank too much. Eddie and Drew bonded over the mixed joys of having younger sisters. William and Drew talked about the Patriots.
Only one other difficult moment marred the dinner.
Drew said to Dinah, “Barrett tells me you’re a novelist. What kind of books do you write?”
“I write romance novels,” Dinah said. “That’s how I met Eddie. She took a job with me as an assistant.”
“Romance novels? Like with the naked man on the cover? Where do you sell your, um, romance novels? I mean, could I find one at the grocery store? Or maybe Walmart? Or would I have to go to a, um, specialty shop? Or could I buy one directly from you?”
Before Eddie could intervene, Dinah said, in a tone that could create glaciers, “You’d find them in bookstores. But they’re not the sort of book you would ever read. They’re about beautiful women and elegant, classy men.”
To everyone’s surprise, William spoke up. “All books and all writers deserve respect,” he said in his most serious professorial tone.
Barrett, Eddie, and Dinah stared at him, shocked.
William continued, “I’m also working on a book. I was a professor of English literature at Williams College. Now I’m writing a critical study of the British Romantic poets.”
“Really?” Drew looked confused as he turned his attention to William. “That sounds impressive.”
“Maybe, Drew, but it won’t ever make the kind of money Miss Lavender makes, and I’m sure it’s the financial aspect that is of interest to you.”
Their father was defending Dinah? Eddie and Barrett made googly eyes at each other.
Drew nodded politely. “That’s not quite true. I read a lot. I don’t believe I’ve read any Romantic British poetry, but please tell me about it.”
“I’d be glad to.” William leaned forward. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Keats, but did you know they regularly indulged in opium?”
“No, I didn’t know that,” Drew admitted, glancing around the table to see if anyone else wanted to enter the conversation.
No one else spoke. William launched into a long and colorful speech about poets and drug usage. He continued while Eddie and Barrett cleared the table and dished the strawberry shortcake into bowls.
“Was Dad actually coming to Dinah’s defense?” Barrett whispered.
Eddie replied, “Well, Drew was being kind of a dick.”
“I know,” Barrett agreed. “And I’m sorry. But I don’t think that Drew meant to be rude. He’s just so interested in the financial aspect of everything.”
Eddie snorted. “If you say so.”
They carried the desserts out to the table. Conversation quickly turned to pleasant subjects. Favorite desserts. Funniest Facebook posts. Chickens adopting puppies, dogs adopting kittens.
“This was a wonderful dinner,” Drew said, looking around the table. “Thank you all, for the delicious food and the fascinating conversation.”
“You’re welcome,” Eddie told him. “Maybe Barrett can show you the Book Barn before you go.”
“I’ll help you in the kitchen,” Dinah told Eddie. She didn’t bother to say goodbye to Drew.
“I’ve got some emails to answer,” William grumbled, disappearing into his study.
Barrett took Drew’s hand and led him through the kitchen and out to the porch. Night had fallen, but a radiance lingered in the sky. The horse appeared at the fence, as if checking out the newcomer. She snorted, tossed her head, and galloped to the far end of the field.
They stepped into the barn. Before she could speak, Drew embraced Barrett, kissed her long and hungrily.
When Drew pulled away, he said, “I apologize if I displeased anyone in your family.”
Barrett laughed. “You sound so old-fashioned.”
“Can you blame me? You have an…unusual family.” Quickly, he added, “I enjoyed them. Now show me this barn enterprise.”
Barrett turned on the overhead light and they walked around the shop. She pointed out each category—mystery, children’s, fiction, textbooks.
“You’re pricing these at fifty cents?” Drew asked. “How can you make a profit?”
“Oh, it’s not about making a profit,” Barrett assured him. “It’s about clearing the house of all the books our family has acquired over the years. Our father’s a bit of a hoarder, only of books, but still…” Feeling embarrassed, she asked jokingly, “See anything you like? I’ll sell them to you for a quarter.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re bringing all these books out of the house to this barn, and someone remains here to sell them?” Drew walked around the charming room they’d put together. “It doesn’t seem like a very good use of personal time. Does Dinah sit out here? Or your father?”
“Oh, no, they’re busy writing their own books. Eddie is out here mostly, but it’s not like we have a steady stream of customers. Probably at the end of the summer we’ll end up donating the books to a thrift shop.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and do that now? This means you have to carry the books at least twice. Eddie could get a job that makes real money. This seems a waste of time.”
“It’s not, really,” Barrett protested. “We’ve had…a lot of changes in our lives, and this process is sort of therapeutic.”
“Okaaay.” Drew seemed amused.
Barrett changed the subject. “But hey, it’s a gorgeous night. Want to drive me out to the beach to look at the stars?”
“Sorry. I’m catching an early plane back to Boston tomorrow.” Drew wrapped Barrett in a warm hug and whispered in her ear. “I wish I could look at the stars with you, but when we do, I want to do it right.”
Before the meaning of his words came clear in Barrett’s mind, Drew kissed her long and firmly, pressing her against him, all up and down. She was uncomfortable. She wanted to explain that she actually meant look at the stars when she said “look at the stars,” but the moment passed. She walked Drew to his car, kissed him goodbye, and watched him drive away.
twelve
Barrett had just opened her shop for the day. She was dusting and windexing her glass shelves when Paul came in, carrying a small cardboard carton. He was wearing work boots and his T-shirt was already damp with sweat. July could be hot on the island, and humid.
She gave him a big smile. It always made her happy to see him.
“Hi, Paul. What’s up?”
Paul gently placed the box on her glass countertop. He was flushed.
He cleared his throat. “I thought you might be interested in these.”
He lifted out a small object: two bluebirds sitting on a branch. The entire piece, about eight inches long and eight inches high, balanced perfectly on the shelf. The birds had been carved from wood and painted a deep mesmerizing sapphire, with shiny black eyes and beaks.
“Did you make this?” Barrett carefully picked up the carving and turned it around, inspecting it. “Paul, this is amazing. So beautiful. So detailed. And the tilt of their little heads toward each other is adorable. I want it!”
Paul laughed. “It’s yours. But I brought another one for you to sell in your shop, if you want to. You wouldn’t have to pay me. I don’t know how much they would go for.”
“But how did you do this? You’re a carpenter!”
“I have a woodworking shop set up in a garage I rent. This is what I prefer doing, but carpentry pays a lot better.”
He lifted a box out of the carton. It was large enough to hold some jewelry or mementoes. It was turquoise, its lid embellished with silver arabesques.
Barrett ran her fingers over the box. It was as smooth as silk.
“Open it,” Paul said.
Barrett gently opened the box. “Oh, Paul.”
The entire interior of the box was gleaming silver. While Barrett gazed at it, Paul brought out another box, this one deep azure, its inside gold.
“Wow,” Barrett said softly. “These are gorgeous, Paul.” She turned the box over. A tiny star was stamped in the corner. “Is this your signature?”
“It is.”
Barrett looked at Paul with renewed admiration. “I thought you did such a great job with my shop quarterboard, but I had no idea you could do this kind of work.”
“That sign isn’t really a quarterboard,” Paul reminded her. “The real quarterboards are works of art, and they take patience and skill.”
“These took patience and skill.” She turned them around, wondering how much to price them. “Paul, this is beautiful.”
Paul shrugged. “I like carving. I never got hooked on video games, and I don’t find television relaxing or even interesting after a hard day’s work. Plus, don’t hate me, but I’m not much of a reader. So, I do this in the evening.”
Barrett turned the little box this way and that. It called to her like an icon, a magic charm. She studied Paul as he stood there near her, with sawdust in his hair. He wore shorts, a dark T-shirt, and work boots, with a tool belt around his hips. Paul was sexy, and fascinating, with his macho exterior and his artistic secret side.
“Do you think I could ever watch you carve?”
He seemed surprised by her question. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never thought of having anyone watch me carve. It’s kind of personal.”
“I understand. Can you make any more of these? Does it take you a long time? Could you do, I don’t know, a fawn or a rabbit or whales, island animals?”
Paul ducked his head, as if embarrassed. “I’ll bring you some other things.” He quickly changed the subject. “Have you heard about the new head of Safe Harbor?”
“No. Tell me.”
She leaned on her counter, talking about the town with Paul. He knew everyone—he’d been born on the island—and working with a crew of carpenters, he heard everything. He was kind with his gossip, and she liked that. She liked his smile, his big shoulders, his—what was the word? Was there a word? His openness, honesty, and willingness to bring her his carvings, obviously the work of his heart, and if these small and beautiful objects were what he produced, she knew somehow that she could trust him.
