Summer of '79: A Summer of '69 Story(9)

“Get inside,” she says, “and pray for your grandmother.”

“Too late now,” Tiger deadpans. Then, he grins. Will his mother find this funny?

Kate shakes her head before letting a fraction of a smile slip. “Pray for yourself, then. And your sainted wife.”

Maybe he should go inside and pray for a baby, he thinks. It couldn’t hurt.





4. Heart of Glass




With Exalta’s death, Kate is now the matriarch of the family. Alongside her deep sorrow, she feels a rush of power, of agency. There’s no one left to please, no one left to placate, no one left to impress.

There is no one left to judge her.

She’s free.

“Is it horrible to feel this way?” Kate whispers to David in the car. “I loved her…”

“You worshipped her,” David says.

“I respected her…”

“You revered her…”

“I even liked her at times.”

“She was a great deal easier to deal with once we bought our own house,” David says. “And once she and Bill got together.”

Bill Crimmins, yes. Kate owes a tremendous debt to Bill—not only for four decades of service to their family and the house but for the past ten years as Exalta’s companion. In her will, Exalta granted Bill lifetime rights to All’s Fair and Little Fair. Only when Bill dies will Exalta’s Nantucket home pass to Kate. This was an appropriate gesture, and yet Kate can’t help but worry that Bill will mend his relationship with his daughter, Lorraine, who is responsible for every bit of heartbreak Kate has known in her life, and Lorraine Crimmins will end up spending time, maybe even entire summers, in All’s Fair.

Bill Crimmins wouldn’t encourage this, certainly. However, if Lorraine discovers—from one of her former chums at Bosun’s Locker, let’s say—that Exalta has died and Bill has been granted residency, and decides to simply show up, would Bill have the willpower to turn her away?

Kate fears the answer is no. So many of us are powerless when it comes to our own children.



Kate tries to push all unpleasant thoughts from her mind in order to be properly attentive during the service. She, David, and Mr. Crimmins sit with the twins in the first pew, while Kate’s four children and Magee sit behind them.

Exalta wanted zero frills. Straightforward service, no poetry, no eulogizing, no dreadful receiving line where Kate and the children would have to, in Exalta’s words, “listen to everyone lie about what a wonderful woman I was.”

Reverend Meeker conducts a proper mass (without communion, also Exalta’s choice), and during his rather bland homily, Kate’s mind wanders. Exalta built an extraordinary family, although really, it was Kate, Exalta’s only child, who built it. She had her first three children with Lt. Wilder Foley and then, once Wilder confessed to an affair with Lorraine Crimmins, got Lorraine pregnant, and shot himself, Kate married David Levin and had Jessie.

Each of her four children has something that sets them apart. Blair has the twins, Kirby the glamour, Tiger the money, and Jessie the smarts.

They also each have problems. Blair is divorced, Kirby wild. Tiger and Magee can’t seem to conceive. And Jessie—well, Jessie is a long way, still, from being settled.



Reverend Meeker lifts his palms to the sky. They stand for the creed, segue into prayers, and sing the final hymn—“I Am the Bread of Life”—then await the benediction. Exalta’s casket is so close to Kate, she can reach out and touch it, but Kate doesn’t feel even the faintest vestiges of her mother’s spirit hovering. To haunt one’s own funeral, Exalta might say, just isn’t done. Better to make a complete and graceful exit. Think of me fondly, but for heaven’s sake, don’t cry.

Kate doesn’t cry. Exalta raised her sensibly. However, Kate does notice Mr. Crimmins pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at his eyes, which is sweet. Magee’s muffled sobs are less so, though understandable considering how much time she spent with Exalta at the end. One of Exalta’s last clear-minded quips to Kate was a sotto voce comment after Magee left Exalta’s bedside to go fetch Exalta some tapioca pudding.

I see I have a new best friend, Exalta said.

All in all, Kate is relieved when the service is over—and even more relieved once the casket is lowered into the ground in the cemetery on Hummock Pond Road and the rich, fresh dirt is smoothed over the top. Gennie squeezes Kate’s hand so tightly she nearly fuses Kate’s fingers. Cemeteries are scary for children; nobody likes to think about being put in a box and buried for all eternity. Kate nearly says, “We can come visit Grand-Nonny here whenever you want,” but she doesn’t want Gennie to think for one second that Exalta is actually here—and so she says nothing at all.

Kate can’t get to the Field and Oar Club fast enough. She’s in desperate need of a drink.



She sucks down a Mount Gay and tonic—this has been the favorite cocktail at the club in recent years—and makes sure that all four of her children are present and accounted for on the lawn between the clubhouse and the waterfront before she begins the odious business of socializing. It’s a brilliant day with deep blue skies and a tennis wind—enough to be refreshing but not so strong that you wished you were out sailing. There seem to be more people at the reception than were at the church, and isn’t that just typical of their set—skip church, how dull, and choose instead to pay respects over cocktails and the lunch buffet on someone else’s chit.