Surfside Sisters(29)
At seven, she left to join the Clean Sweep gang. It was almost spring, almost time for the earliest of the summer residents to return, and Jennifer Gonzalas needed help opening houses, freshening them for their owners. Because she’d written, Keely was happy during the days when she mopped floors and scrubbed sinks. Maybe writing was her elixir.
Gradually, she began to appreciate being on the island again. Many of the homes she cleaned had million-dollar views of the sweeping blue ocean or the rolling moors. Sometimes in the evening, she drove out to the beaches and sat cross-legged in the sand, watching the light fade and the ocean reflect the change. Blue to lavender to silver to slate. Sometimes there was a heavy fog and she would hear the haunting call of the foghorn.
After a while, she had the time and energy to get together with her high school friends. They met for dinner at the Brotherhood, luxuriating over their curly fries and red wine, their current hit of gossip. Janine, Theresa, the old gang, didn’t mind if something made Keely cry, missing her father. They waited patiently. They patted her back. They hugged her. She was grateful. Sunday afternoons they went to the beach at Surfside, and although the water was still too cold for swimming, they waded in it, they kicked at the frothy waves curling up to meet them.
Isabelle emailed and texted often, usually going on in wild poetic paragraphs about how much she loved Tommy. He was so different from her boring family! He was teaching Isabelle how to roller-skate! On weekends, they went hiking up Mount Tom or Mount Greylock. He didn’t live in his head, he lived in the present, he was like a yogi who never took yoga! It was no surprise, Isabelle said, that his grades were so abysmal. Some people weren’t meant for the boredom of college classes.
June hit, and the summer deepened. Isabelle went with her parents to visit Sebastian, who was still living in Sweden with his girlfriend, Ebba. For most of the rest of the summer, the Maxwells toured Scandinavia and the countries bordering the Baltic.
By the Fourth of July, no one had any free time or energy for meeting for dinner or the beach. Keely took every babysitting job she could get. The summer people were glad to go out to the fabulously glamorous galas, and they showed it.
One night Keely returned home from babysitting with a wad of five hundred dollars in her hand. She entered her house to find Eloise in her robe, watching television and weeping.
“Oh, darling, give me five more minutes. This movie is almost over.”
“Are you okay, Mom?”
“I am, darling. It’s just so wonderful to watch a happy ending.”
After the movie ended, Keely said, “I have something happy for you.” She handed her mother a big fat check. “This should help with the mortgage.”
Eloise’s eyes went wide. “So much! Are you keeping anything for yourself?”
Enough to buy paper and toner for my printer, Keely thought. “I’m good.”
“Oh, darling,” Eloise said, rising to hug her daughter. “You certainly are good.”
* * *
—
After Labor Day, many of the summer people returned home and the island population calmed down. September was always a bonus month for the islanders. The sun was bright, the water was warm, and they had free time to enjoy their island. Keely had just come from helping Jennifer close a house. In her white T-shirt and black shorts and sneakers—Clean Sweep’s uniform—she raced into the grocery store to buy some supplies for dinner. She headed down the produce aisle, scrutinizing the berries.
“Keely, is that really you?”
Keely looked up to see Donna Maxwell standing with a small basket over her arm and a clearly smug expression on her face.
“Hello, Mrs. Maxwell,” Keely said politely.
“I didn’t believe it when Isabelle told me you dropped out of school in your junior year, such a brilliant girl like you, what a shame. And you’re cleaning houses now?”
Keely could hardly deny it with the logo of Clean Sweep and a cartoon broom across the front of her T-shirt.
Keely would have bet her two front teeth that Mr. Maxwell had told his wife about Keely’s mother’s financial problems. Still, what else could she say?
“Well, you know my father died. I came home to help my mother.”
Mrs. Maxwell looked satisfied, almost licking her lips like the cat who’d just eaten a canary. “What a wonderful daughter you are. Still, it’s a shame you had to give up college and your dream of writing.”
Offended by the patronizing tone in Mrs. Maxwell’s voice, Keely said, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Maxwell, I’ll never give up my dream of writing. In fact, I have more time to write now than I had when I was in college.” She picked up a tub of blueberries and put them in her cart.
“So nice to see you,” Keely lied, and pushed her cart quickly down the aisle before she could blurt out what she really felt like saying.
* * *
—
Her day off dawned crystal clear. Not a breath of wind. It was early October, and the ocean called to her. She forced herself to write, and halfway through an hour, she shoved back her chair, ignored the blinking light of her cursor, and pulled on a bathing suit and sneakers.
She scribbled a note to her mother. Going out. Back soon. She yanked on a light long-sleeved T-shirt—that did not say Clean Sweep—stuck a scalloper’s hat on her head and her sunglasses over her eyes, and rushed to her car.