Hamptons Surprise, page 1
Hamptons Surprise
A Beachcomber Dreams Novel
Neve Cottrell
Tropic Turtle Press
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter One
Aunt Jean died on a Thursday.
Alice nearly let the call go to voicemail, but her mother rarely telephoned during business hours.
“I guess I should call Dad,” Alice said. Jean had actually been her father’s aunt, but the task of sharing bad news with their adult children still fell to Ruthie, even though the couple had been divorced for forty years.
“Your father’s fine. The woman was ninety-eight. This was hardly unexpected.”
“I know, but I thought she was still going strong.” Not that Alice kept close tabs on her. She was too consumed with her own survival to pay much attention to anyone else’s.
“You’re talking to the wrong person about that.” For reasons known only to the two headstrong women, her mother had fallen out with Aunt Jean about twenty years ago. The family had simply accepted the estrangement, unwilling to ask the tough questions. “The memorial service is scheduled for Saturday, so you’ll come tomorrow after work and stay through the following weekend.”
“If the service is on Saturday, then we’ll just drive back to the city Sunday night,” Alice said.
“What’s the rush? The kids have off school for spring break next week. You can make a vacation out of it and spend some time with your family for a change.”
Alice winced. Naturally, her mother had looked up the school calendar. Alice had been careful not to mention the break in their recent text exchanges. The internet was both a blessing and a curse.
“I’m not retired like you, Mom. I have to work.”
“What else is new?” her mother asked. “Life is about more than punching a clock, you know. Tell the firm you’re working remotely.”
“I don’t think people punch clocks anymore.”
“Not the point.”
“Where’s the service?” Alice asked in an effort to change the subject.
“Do you really need to ask? It’s at the Beachcomber. She planned the whole thing in advance. Honestly, it’s the most considerate thing she’s ever done. I guess that’s how you entertain yourself when you’re nearing one hundred.”
Beachcomber Winery was the estate Jean Hughes had owned since 1980. The land in Southampton had been in the Hughes family for generations, serving as a farm for most of that time, until the modern world demanded change. Aunt Jean had taken a huge risk when she decided to follow the path of the Hargraves, who first planted grapes on the North Fork in 1973. Local friends thought the venture wouldn’t last more than a couple years. According to Alice’s father, Hunton Hughes, it was the only risk his aunt had ever taken. Aunt Jean apparently disliked change in general, but when faced with the choice between selling the family land or using it for something else, she chose the latter. After much research and deliberation, she opted to plant grapes and, thus, the Beachcomber was born.
Alice hadn’t been to the winery in years. In fact, she was pretty sure the last time she’d been there was for her own baby shower. Guests had been thrilled to attend a baby shower that revolved around wine. After all, only the guest of honor couldn’t drink. She still wasn’t sure how that had happened, given her mother’s rift with Aunt Jean. Alice suspected her stepmom and sisters had been instrumental in selecting the venue and outvoting her mother.
“The Beachcomber makes sense,” Alice said.
She had fond memories of playing hide-and-seek in the vineyard with her four younger siblings. The estate wasn’t busy in the early days, giving the children the freedom to run amok. It reminded Alice of a biergarten, where the adults sat outside and drank, and the children entertained each other with imaginative games.
“Apparently, Penny’s sixtieth birthday party was there,” her mother said with the expected amount of derision. There was no love lost between Alice’s mother and stepmother. “As far as I know, that was the last family gathering at the Beachcomber.”
Alice vaguely recalled the invitation. Once her husband was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, Alice avoided any alcohol-centered social events in solidarity. Greg died three years ago and Alice still found herself in the habit of not drinking—or socializing.
“Stay the week,” her mother pressed. “I deserve time with my grandchildren.”
“Then come to the city. You can hang out with them all week while I’m at the office.” Alice secretly hoped her mother wouldn’t take the bait. The apartment wasn’t big enough for the three of them plus her mother’s personality.
“You need to unchain yourself from that desk and live a little,” her mother said, unrelenting.
“I’m a widow raising two teenagers in New York City. I don’t have the luxury.”
“Youth is wasted on the young,” her mother grumbled. “I bet you haven’t downloaded that app yet.”
Alice closed her eyes and feigned ignorance. “What app?”
“The dating app I told you about. Maybe you can arrange to meet someone for coffee while you’re here. Of course, that will be easier if you stay the whole week.”
And then Alice would meet someone local and move back to her old stomping grounds with the kids. Alice knew what her mother’s ideal world looked like—all three of her adult children within five miles of her. Chelsea and Finn were already there, leaving Alice as the lone holdout and the target of her mother’s frequent ideas.
“I will if you will,” Alice said, knowing what the response would be. Her mother had been single ever since the divorce and, as far as Alice knew, wholly inactive on the dating front.
Her mother laughed. “Nice try. I’m over seventy. The only men who are interested in seeing me naked have medical degrees.”
This conversation was the reason Alice tended to let her mother’s calls go to voicemail.
“I hate to cut this short, but I need to go to a department meeting now,” she lied.
Her mother made a dismissive noise. “Fine. See you tomorrow night. Don’t eat on the way. I’ll make dinner.”
“Please don’t go to any trouble. It’s Friday. I doubt we’ll get there until late.”
“It’s Friday in March. Traffic won’t be a problem. Bye now.”
Alice hung up the phone and sighed. The memorial service aside, the entire weekend would be spent dodging her mother’s attempts to get them to stay the week. Arguably, Alice could work remotely from the Hamptons; she simply didn’t want to. Aunt Jean’s death would bring the whole family together—an unsettling prospect. Her parents’ divorce may have occurred forty years ago, but the repercussions were still felt today. Alice had learned it was best to avoid the entirety of Long Island altogether. Greg was from New Jersey, which gave Alice an excuse to opt out of the Hamptons for most holidays. Following Greg’s death, Alice continued the practice so her two children could maintain their bond with Greg’s parents.
Lily and Martin Warren had been high school sweethearts and were still happily married. Initially, Alice had been suspicious of their relationship. She’d been certain that Greg was myopic when it came to his own family and simply failed to see the cracks. It was only after a few years of visiting them that Alice realized Lily and Martin genuinely adored each other. The idea had been so foreign to her that she didn’t believe it was possible. Although her father had remarried and had two more children with Penny, their relationship had struck Alice as more a matter of convenience. After the divorce, her father had to care for three young children on his own half the time and he wanted a woman to help him. Penny happened to be in the right place at the right time—specifically, the tennis court where Hunton played. Penny was his younger, hotter tennis instructor and, a year later, she became his wife.
Alice understood the attraction on her father’s side. Penny was petite and blonde and probably took years off his life in a good way. She was less certain what Penny’s motivation was. It seemed impractical to marry an older man, knowing he would likely die so much sooner. Of course, the thought made Alice feel like a hypocrite since Greg didn’t even make it to forty-five—a stark reminder that there were no guarantees in life.
A text from her son interrupted her thoughts. Can I hang out with Josh and Julia Sat night?
Sorry, we have to go to the Hamptons. She’d explain later. She hated sending important information via text.
Keegan responded with a laughing emoji. I bet we’re the only people who’d make it sound like a chore.
Although he was only sixteen, he’d matured in leaps and bounds since Greg’s death. By necessity, Alice assumed. He’d certainly shown he was clever enough to see through her smiles and platitudes.
We’ll leave tomorrow after school.
Keegan responded with a vomiting emoji. Okay, so maybe ‘matured’ wasn’t exactly the right word.
Alice immediately began typ
Chapter Two
“What do you think of chintz? I hear it’s making a comeback.”
Isabel Hughes made a choking sound. Brianna Carter was one of her best clients and the two had an excellent rapport, so Isabel didn’t bother to sugarcoat her reaction.
Brianna laughed. “I take that as a no.”
Isabel eyed the gleaming white walls and sleek furniture of Brianna’s Upper East Side apartment. “Chintz isn’t you, that’s all.”
Brianna folded her arms and regarded the interior. “No, you’re absolutely right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“If you’re rethinking the current design,” Isabel began, “I’m sure we can come up with something more in keeping with your taste.” Isabel knew Brianna’s preferences better than anyone. She’d worked for her on multiple projects, including this very room three years ago.
Brianna toyed with her pearl necklace. “To be honest, I’m not sure I want to redo this room. It’s just that we had friends visiting from England recently, and Charlotte mentioned how lovely this room would look with a bit of chintz.”
One of the downsides of working for Brianna was that she had a tendency to be easily swayed by people she liked. Charlotte from England probably lived in a two-hundred-year-old house with the same chintz curtains and upholstery that had been chosen by her grandmother.
“I think you’d hate it within two months,” Isabel said truthfully.
That seemed to settle the matter. “You always set me straight. It’s one of the reasons I love working with you.”
“If your heart was truly set on chintz, you know I wouldn’t stand in your way.”
Brianna sighed. “I think my heart was truly set on Charlotte’s approval, but cooler heads have prevailed.” She smiled. “Listen, I know it’s short notice, but I’m having a little get-together tomorrow evening. You should come. A couple of your other clients will be here—Missy Tinsdale and Talia Morgenstern.”
Isabel maintained a neutral expression. She didn’t particularly like either woman, although their interior design projects were plentiful and paid well. Missy referred to Isabel as ‘Bel,’ despite Isabel’s repeated corrections. She’d also witnessed two of Missy’s infamous temper tantrums, one of which was directed at Isabel after she’d ordered a light gray sofa instead of a white one. Talia wasn’t any better. Isabel had once heard her describe a friend’s breast cancer as a blessing because it meant she had an excuse to fix her lopsided boobs. If the friend had been present, it would’ve been possible Talia was trying to make her feel better. As it happened, the friend wasn’t there and the cackle of laughter that punctuated the remark told Isabel everything she needed to know about Talia Morgenstern.
“I’d love to,” Isabel lied, “but I’m going to the Hamptons this weekend.”
Brianna frowned. “In March?”
“I’m not going for pleasure. I have to attend a memorial service for my father’s aunt.”
“I didn’t realize you had family out there.”
“Most of my family lives there. It’s where I grew up.”
Brianna gave her a long look. “How did I not know that about you? I just assumed you grew up in Manhattan.”
Isabel shrugged. “I moved here for college and have lived here ever since.”
Brianna’s face brightened. “You know what? You should take a look at our beach house while you’re there. I’ve been considering redoing the pool house and I’d love your thoughts. I don’t think we’ve changed so much as a throw pillow in years.”
Isabel suspected that Brianna’s pool house was likely twice the size of Isabel’s apartment. “Any idea of the square footage?”
“About two thousand square feet. My brother’s been staying in the main house while his place is being renovated. He can let you in.”
Isabel licked her lips. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not really sure I can fit it in. I’m coming back Sunday night.”
Brianna flicked a bejeweled finger. “Nonsense. If you’re going all the way out there, stay an extra couple days and see your family. Ooh, and if you’re in Sag Harbor, swing by Cavaniola’s and bring me back a couple of their gift baskets. Their cheese is to die for.”
Isabel debated the offer. Jackson had agreed to accompany her, but maybe it would be better if she stayed behind in the Hamptons and he returned to their apartment. It would give them the time apart that Isabel desperately craved.
“If you’re sure…”
“Of course I’m sure. You’re the only one I trust, Isabel. You know that.”
Isabel felt an unexpected sense of relief at the prospect of spending time away from her life. “Then I’d be happy to.”
Brianna beamed. “Great. I’ll text Mason and let him know you’re coming.”
Chapter Three
“Two hours in a car?” Keegan pressed his forehead against the passenger window.
“I like a long car ride,” Amelia chirped from the back seat. She was always willing to be contrary, especially in response to her brother’s opinion.
Alice still couldn’t believe she was the mother of two teenagers. Where did the time go? One minute, she was near death in childbirth. The next minute, she was driving along the expressway, listening to them bicker about which YouTube personality had more subscribers.
She glanced at Amelia in the rearview mirror. With her light brown hair and bright blue eyes, her daughter strongly resembled Greg, whereas Keegan was the perfect blend of both parents. He’d inherited Alice’s dark hair and gray eyes, and his father’s tall, stocky build. Amelia was tall, too, although not stocky, and Alice wondered whether it was only a matter of time before genetics caught up to her. She was only thirteen and the hormones had only just begun to wreak havoc on the girl’s system. Alice prayed to the universe for mercy on that front.
“Read a book,” Alice said, and returned her focus to the road.
“You know I get car sick if I read.” Keegan’s tone was sulky and Alice steeled herself for additional protests, but thankfully none was forthcoming.
“You’re not the only one,” Amelia said.
Yes, Alice had been blessed with not one, but two children prone to car sickness. Good thing they lived in the city.
“Did I ever meet Aunt Jean?” Amelia asked.
“Once, not long after you were born.”
“I think I remember.”
Keegan twisted to glare at his sister. “You do not. Humans don’t even form memories that early.”
Amelia lifted her chin a fraction. “I did. I can remember being in my crib. I had a toy monkey and a farm animal mobile.”
“That’s only because you’ve seen the photos.” Keegan faced front again, shaking his head. “She’s such a liar.”
Amelia responded with a swift kick to the back of his seat.
“That’s enough of that,” Alice said firmly. She focused on keeping an even tone and not raising her voice. It wasn’t easy, but she was proud of herself for managing it.
“Why are we going out of our way to go to her memorial service if we didn’t go out of our way to see her when she was alive?”
Sometimes Alice looked at her daughter and saw a pint-sized journalist, meting out the tough questions that no one else dared to ask.
“It’s a sign of respect,” Alice said. She didn’t want to explain the feud between her mother and Aunt Jean, mostly because she couldn’t.
Keegan slumped in the seat. “Can we stop somewhere to eat? I’m starving.”
“Mom-mom is making dinner,” she said.
The children groaned in unison and Alice bit back a smile. It seemed she’d passed on more than her genes.
