Page 32 of Summer Light on Nantucket
Brooks said, “I’m really glad to be here.”
“Mom,” Miranda said, “I’m going to show Brooks where to keep his stuff.”
“We’ll have dinner in about ten minutes,” Blythe said.
She was starting to set the table when Daphne wandered in, carrying a book with her finger holding her place.
“Oh, good,” Blythe said. “You can help me set the table.”
“Why do I have to be the one who always helps,” Daphne asked, sighing.
“Because you’re the child I like to be with the most,” Blythe told her daughter, because that was what she told all her children when she was alone with them.
“Oh, Mom.” Daphne rolled her eyes, but she smiled.
Finally, all the food was ready and everyone was seated and Blythe made them hold hands and say a quick grace and then she passed the bowls around. Already the children looked rosy and flushed from the sun and all the time spent outdoors. They ate quickly, as if they hadn’t been fed all day, and the humble tuna casserole vanished. They gave up and played at eating their salads—why didn’t children likesalads?—all the while arguing aboutDune: Part Twoand how could the dainty Timothée Chalamet possibly be cast as a warrior and why was Christopher Walken so cool even if he was, like,ancient?
Blythe sat eating quietly, sipping her wine, wondering when Aaden would return her call. Holly’s friend Carolyn was at the table, picking at her food, and needing to eat it all, because the girl was too thin, but it wasn’t Blythe’s place to insist she eat, and Holly would be embarrassed if Blythe tried. Brooks was debating the strengths and weaknesses ofDune: Part Twowith Teddy, while Miranda listened with miraculous patience to Daphne talking about the cnidarians and ctenophores on display at the Maria Mitchell aquarium.
Voices drifted from the front door.
“Yoohoo, Blythe!” Sandy called. “I’m here with Nick. Can we come in?”
“Of course,” Blythe called.
Sandy entered the dining room. “The girls have gone off with friends on a sunset cruise. What are you doing this evening?”
Nick was there, behind Sandy, just inside the doorway, looking uncomfortable and also heart-stoppingly attractive.
Be normal,Blythe ordered herself. “We were just finishing dinner. I made sugar cookies—”
Before she completed her sentence, the children jumped up from the table as if they’d been zapped by an electric shock.
“Wait!” Blythe said. “Have some manners and say hello to Sandy and Mr. Roth.”
As if directed by a choir leader, the children chimed, “Hello, Sandy. Hello, Mr. Roth.”
“Now,” Blythe directed, “take your dishes to the kitchen. The cookies are for dessert. Help yourself.”
“Then we can leave?” Miranda asked.
“Yes,” Blythe answered dryly. “I’ve officially unlocked your shackles.”
“Great!” Miranda took Brooks’s hand. “Come on, let’s walk into town for ice cream.”
Brooks rose—Miranda was gently pulling him to his feet. “Thank you for the dinner, Mrs. Benedict.”
“You’re welcome, Brooks.” Smiling at Sandy and Nick, Blythe invited them to join her at the table. “Sit with me while the kids sort themselves out.”
For the next few minutes, it sounded like middle school when the last bell rings. People ran up the stairs and back down, called out names and questions, raced out the front door, thundered back into the kitchen to grab a few sugar cookies, raced out the back door, and all at once, blissfully, it was quiet in the house.
“We’re on our way to Straight Wharf to get ice cream,” Sandy announced. “We thought you’d like to come with us.”
Blythe couldn’t think of a reasonnotto join them. Her children had gone off, and Aaden hadn’t returned her call, and if he did come to Straight Wharf, well, Nick was with Sandy, wasn’t he?
“That would be fun! Give me a moment to get organized.”
She took her plate into the kitchen, dashed into the downstairs lavatory, brushed her hair, swooped on some lipstick, and checked her phone, in case Aaden had left a message. No message.
