Family of Liars(16)

He shrugs. “It has four bedrooms. The guys could double up, or someone could sleep on the foldout.”

“Not every guest would appreciate sharing with three teenage boys.”

He gives her a look. “Do you have someone in Goose, Tipper? And if you did, would you have asked me first? Or even let me know?”

She looks away.

“Yardley’s eighteen,” says Dean. “She wants to be with her guy before she goes off to college and probably never sees him again. So he’s here for a bit, and he brought some buddies. It’s nothing.”

“Three unexpected boys,” says Tipper. “You think I have enough chicken for those appetites? For tonight?”

Dean turns conciliatory. “They’ll eat hot dogs. They won’t care.”

“I care. I don’t want to feed them hot dogs.”

“They’re Yardley’s friends,” I put in. “She said they’re from good families and all that.”

Tipper turns to me. “You have no idea what it is to run this property with unexpected guests.”

“You can’t send them home,” I tell her. “It would be rude if you don’t let them stay at least a week.”

She frowns. I know she hates to be rude.

“They’ll brighten up the place,” I add. I don’t have to mention Rosemary, but she knows that’s what I mean. Rosemary not being here, that’s what needs brightening. “It could be fun,” I continue. “You know, for me and Penny. We can take them out in the kayaks, and like Harris said, on the sailboat. We could do a tennis tournament or something.” I’m selling her on wholesome group activities.

My mother folds her arms.

“Please, Tipper?” I say, putting my head on her shoulder. “Best person, nicest mother in the world. Let me have some good distraction. I neeeeeeed it.”

She sighs, but I can tell I’ve won her over. “I really have a very full plate,” she snaps at Dean. “I’d be grateful if you wanted to man the grill. Tonight. And often. As soon as you’re settled.”

Dean grins. “Always glad to man the grill.”

When Dean is gone, my mother turns to me. “Make sure they have a good time, okay?”

“The boys?”

“Of course the boys. If they’re staying, I’m going to be a good hostess. You take them down to the beach, show them the kayaks. And make sure they understand how the VCR works, the washer, that stuff, so they’re comfortable. I can’t believe Dean’s nerve.” She shakes her head. “Three boys and no warning. I haven’t even got the beds made up in the cottage. You’ll do that for me?”

Major, George, and Pfeff. I can feel them from here, like a pulsing or a heart beating, over in the guesthouse. Testosterone, entitlement, cold beer, and laughter.

I tell her yes.





17.


WHEN I GET to Goose, it is all kinds of chaos. In the yard that opens off the wooden walkway, George and Major are playing Ping-Pong, having dragged an old table from the garden shed, where it has languished for years. They have their shirts off. George is muscled and evenly tan to match his beige hair; Major pale and lithe. Their boxer shorts peek out of their waistbands. George’s are Black Watch plaid, clashing wildly with his red plaid shorts. Major’s are a simple blue.

“Ho!” George grabs the ball to stop the game. “Carrie, is it?”

“Yeah.”

The duffel bags are piled on the porch. Clothing bursts out of them. Tennis rackets, bags of taco chips. A typewriter is open and a piece of paper stuck into it.

Pfeff sits on the porch with his back against the house, a Coke in one hand, the blue kitchen phone in the other. Its curly cord stretches through the window. “I’m sorry…. I’m sorry…. I said, I’m sorry,” he’s repeating. “I know, but I’m calling you now…. Yes, George’s girlfriend, Yardley. She invited us.” He looks up at George and Major. “When did Yardley invite us?”

“Me, a while ago,” says George. “You two hosebags on Tuesday night.”

“Tuesday night,” says Pfeff into the phone. “No, I don’t have her dad’s number. He’s like, in a different house than we are. We’re in a guesthouse…. Massachusetts, I think.” He looks up again. “We’re in Massachusetts, correct?”

“Correct,” I tell him.

“Yuh-huh,” says Pfeff into the phone. “She said—Major, how long are we staying?”

Major shrugs. “Forever, maybe. This place is amazing.”

“Maybe forever,” says Pfeff.

“His mother,” George explains to me. He tosses the Ping-Pong ball in the air and catches it again.

“I know I’m a terrible son,” says Pfeff. “And I know you deserve a delightful son, so it stinks that you got me, but I also know you love me anyway…. Of course I love you. So can we be friends?…Also, I’m a legal adult. That means I don’t have to come home. Okay.”

“I’m here to show you how to work the washing machine and whatever else,” I say.

“Yardley showed us all that,” says Major.

“We’re fully up to speed,” says George.

And maybe it’s the two shirtless boys, because I can’t stop looking at them. Or maybe it’s the way they’ve already disrupted everything about how Goose Cottage usually feels. Or maybe it’s just because it’s baking hot out—but I surprise myself. “Let’s go swimming, then,” I say. “You haven’t really been to Beechwood until you’ve been in the water.”