Family Reunion Nancy Thayer (summer reads .txt) 📖

Cal roused them—although they were almost all awake—and told them they were going to a special place today.

The special place was the State Forest, one hundred forty-three acres of black oak and pitch pine, with walking trails, grassy racetracks, and fallen trees made into hiding places. Since Nantucket was a sandy island with few tall trees and the sun relentlessly beating down, this forest was like a magical place with its shadows and bright spots. The kids went wild, running, calling out, tossing the balls Cal had brought. A sense of joy burst through the air like the birds that swooped from tree to tree.

Later, back in their schoolroom, the children sat at long tables working on art pieces to decorate the flowerpots they would eventually give to their parents.

For the last hour of the day, the counselors shepherded the children out to the community school playground. They ran screaming with glee as if set free, climbing the jungle gym, hanging from the monkey bars, whacking the tetherball back and forth. Then, one by one and sometimes in a bunch, the parents arrived to pick up their children.

“Goodbye!” everyone called. “Goodbye!”

All at once, it was very quiet.

“I’m exhausted,” Ari said, immediately wondering if that was the wrong thing to say.

“You have no idea,” Sandy agreed, sitting on a log in the playground.

Ari plopped down next to Sandy, sticking her legs out straight in front of her.

Cal sat down. “You did well today,” Cal told Ari. “You fit right in.”

“Thanks,” Ari said. “Good to know. They’re cute kids.”

Cal pulled his phone from the pocket of his shorts and checked it. “The forecast is for rain tomorrow. We’ll do some gymnastics on the beach and hit the library. Get a good rest tonight!”

They rose and headed to their vehicles waiting at the far end of the parking lot. Cal’s car was a Ford pickup truck, old but in good shape. Sandy’s car was an ancient white sedan, dented and scraped. A twinge of guilty embarrassment pinched Ari as she opened the door to her Subaru. She settled in, strapped on her seatbelt, and waved at Cal and Sandy as they all drove off. Cal waved back.

Eight

Eleanor was in the kitchen mixing herself a nice vodka tonic with lime and lots of ice when Ari rushed into the house.

“Hi, Gram! I’m going to unpack some groceries and then take a shower. I’ll tell you about everything when I get—oh, my gosh, you have mussels! You are amazing!” Ari kissed her grandmother on the cheek and flew down the hall to her room.

When Ari came out of her bedroom, dressed in a light cotton sundress and smelling of citrus shampoo, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, Eleanor said, “Yes, we’ve got mussels for dinner and a salad and fresh peaches and ginger snaps.”

“Oh! You’re the best!” Ari kissed her again and flopped into a chair, tapping away at her phone.

With her drink in hand, Eleanor returned to her puzzle. Over the years she and her granddaughter had become comfortable with one another, neither needing to stop whatever she was doing to pay full-face attention to the other. Alicia thought this was impolite, but it worked well for Eleanor and Ari. Eleanor’s mother had insisted you couldn’t have civilized culture without polite conversation. Somehow this belief had jumped a generation and landed on Alicia, which made Eleanor feel extremely uncivilized when dealing with her daughter.

“Aha!” Eleanor found a puzzle piece she’d been looking for and rewarded herself with a sip of her drink.

Later they had dinner at the kitchen table—the dining room table was covered with puzzle pieces. Ari told Eleanor about Beach Camp and the sweet children and the busy day. Eleanor told Ari about picking the mussels and walking to the Sconset Market. Over the peaches she’d sliced and sprinkled with sugar and ginger snaps, a brilliant combination, Eleanor told her about her meeting with Silas.

“Gram, you have a beau!” Ari teased.

“Don’t be such a romantic,” Eleanor said. “It was completely accidental, running into each other. But he is a pleasant man.”

“Are you lonely here, without Grandpa?” Ari asked.

A warning bell rang in Eleanor’s consciousness. She didn’t want Ari to feel she had to be a companion for her poor old Gram. She didn’t want Ari’s pity. “Oh, not so much,” Eleanor responded cheerfully. “In the winter, maybe, but summer is always such a busy time for me.” In fact, Eleanor thought, she was enjoying herself much more now that she could choose which invitations she would like.

“About all that, Ari, I wanted to tell you that I may not always be home around dinnertime. I’ll always keep some casseroles or frozen dinners for you, and bread and so on, but you don’t need to be back here for dinner every night. You’re an adult now, and you should come and go from the house as you please.”

“Thanks, Gram,” Ari said, with a smile that showed her dimple. “I do hope I’ll be having a few dates this summer, and I’ll want to tell you all about them.”

“Maybe not all about them,” Eleanor answered with a twinkle in her eye.

After dinner, Eleanor and Ari did the dishes and tidied the kitchen. They streamed an old Hitchcock movie, and around eight-thirty, Eleanor told her granddaughter good night and went up to bed. She put on her summer pj’s, striped pink and white cotton, which she had washed and ironed herself. She loved the feel of ironed pajamas. She brushed her teeth, creamed her face, reminding herself she had to buy new sunscreen, turned off the light, and slipped into bed. Shadow leapt lightly onto the bed and curled up next to her. Eleanor wasn’t tired, but she had books to read, and she didn’t want to crowd Ari. The young woman would have calls and texts to make and posts to read on Instagram and Eleanor couldn’t imagine what else.

Eleanor realized she should show some evidence