Family Reunion Nancy Thayer (summer reads .txt) 📖

“Doin’ fine, Beck. How about you?”

“Oh, I’m up here in Plymouth, wishing I were on the island. Listen, I had a great thought. The yacht club’s Mid-Summer Ball is this Saturday. Would you go with me? I promise I’m a decent dancer.”

Her heart floated upward like a balloon. “That’s a wonderful idea, Beck. I’d love to go with you.”

“Want to put a table together? Like my sister and her fiancé, and Mickey and Sara Sullivan.”

“Oh, yes. That’ll be fun!” The Mid-Summer Ball was always a fantastic event, with fabulous dinners served before the band began to play every style of music while the dance floor filled with whirling skirts and navy blazers and laughing people.

“Good. I’ll pick you up at six. Cocktails start at six-thirty.”

“Oh, Beck, I can drive in from ’Sconset and meet you there.”

“Not a chance that will happen. Ari, this is an official date, and I’m picking you up.”

“Okay, then. I’ll be ready.”

When she clicked off her phone, Ari caught a glimpse of her face in her rearview mirror. She was smiling, as if she’d been lit up like a star.

Oh, dear, she thought, what does it mean that the sound of Beck’s voice made me happy? When she was younger, she and her friends had scorned the Mid-Summer Ball because it was so old-fashioned and conventional. But right now, it seemed that a pretty dress with a skirt that swirled as she was held in Beck’s arms was exactly what she needed.

—

Summer was here, and Eleanor’s calendar was scribbled with dates for lunch, sailing, and dinner. She was glad. She knew this was good for her, happily reclusive as she was, so she went everywhere she was invited. This was good for Ari, too, Eleanor was certain. Ari needed some time alone. This Tuesday she’d had a girls’ night out with friends, and tonight, Ari had gone out with Beck to a beach party. It was good, Eleanor decided, for both women to be busy, and let their subconscious minds do their back-of-the-stove simmering.

Eleanor was glad Ari was active, having fun, but soon her granddaughter had to face serious changes because of her pregnancy. If Ari kept the baby, Eleanor worried that Ari’s mother and father wouldn’t want her to live with them in Boston. Alicia had experienced a long and difficult labor with Ari, ending in a hysterectomy. Alicia hadn’t enjoyed having an infant to deal with, either. All that spitting up and crying and constant care—it had made Alicia miserable. Eleanor had gone up to Boston to help during the first month, but that only made Alicia crankier, having to live with her mother around. Finally, when Ari was seven months old and crawling, Alicia had hired a nanny.

No, Eleanor couldn’t imagine Ari with her parents and a squalling newborn. Would Ari still take classes at B.U.?

Eleanor also worried Alicia wouldn’t understand Eleanor’s attempt to help—unless Eleanor agreed to sell the house and split the money among her daughter, son, and granddaughter. But Alicia was dealing with an adulterous husband, and money couldn’t fix that. Could it? Ari would own this house when Eleanor died, but Eleanor had no plans to die for a good long time. It was a sad thought that only Eleanor’s death would make Alicia happy.

She heard the clunk of her mailbox lid and walked out to pick up her mail. An electric bill, an invitation to a fundraiser, and a postcard from Martha, who was having the best time ever on the cruise. Good for her, Eleanor thought. She was sincerely happy Martha was having such fun, but she missed having her friend around to talk to about the very private matters she couldn’t share with anyone else.

She walked slowly back to her house and was glad when the phone rang, interrupting her turbulent thoughts, and even more glad to hear Silas’s voice.

“Eleanor,” Silas said, “I should have asked earlier, but I’m afraid I just took it for granted—would you be my partner for the Mid-Summer Ball next Saturday? Please don’t feel obligated.”

“I’d be delighted, Silas,” Eleanor said. “Are you putting together a table?”

“To be honest, I hadn’t thought of that,” Silas said. “I’d only gotten as far as asking you.”

Eleanor said, “Well, we must put a table together. If we sit alone, people will gossip.”

“A little gossip is a fine thing at our age,” Silas said.

Eleanor laughed. “I’ll call Sissy Hampshire.”

“Good girl,” Silas said. “Oh, damn, is it incorrect of me to call you girl? Or even a good girl?”

Eleanor laughed again. “As long as I can call you good boy.”

“I’ll try to earn that appellation,” Silas said.

When they ended the call, Eleanor sat down on the overstuffed chair in a corner of the guest room. She hadn’t gone to the ball since Mortimer had died three years ago. She tried to remember how dressy women were at the dance, and as she recalled, they were very fancy, wearing their best dresses and jewels. Most of the dresses had full skirts, which were such fun to swirl when they danced.

For a little while, Eleanor sat there, just remembering. Mortimer had always insisted on going to the various balls the yacht club held, but he had been an absolutely terrible dancer, stiff and as plodding as an overloaded mule. Eleanor couldn’t remember her husband ever twirling her, not even once. But she could remember Silas dancing with his wife, Maxine, how perfectly matched they were, even daring to do the tango. Oh, Maxine had swirled her skirts a lot.

The image woke a memory. Up in the attic, inside a plastic wardrobe, hung “special” dresses she and, years later, when she was in college, Alicia had once worn. Eleanor wondered if she could squeeze into any one of them. Well, she could always alter one with her handy sewing machine. Humming the tune to “I Could Have Danced All Night,” Eleanor went up to the attic.

For the rest of the week, Eleanor worked on a