Surfside Sisters(86)

“I’m revising a book set on Nantucket,” Keely continued slowly. She was superstitious and wary of telling anyone here her real title, Sun Music. She improvised. “The working title is Learning to Tack—”

Mike interrupted. “That’s a terrible title! People will think it’s about laying carpet.”

“Mike,” Grace admonished calmly, “remember we’re going to save our reactions to discuss later. Please write your thoughts on your pad.”

“Mike’s right,” Keely said. “It’s a terrible title, that’s why it’s a working title. I’ll, um, read a scene I’ve been working on…” She felt her face grow hot as she read aloud. This new book, Learning to Tack or Sun Music or whatever it would be titled, was not about her or her and Isabelle, but parts of it came directly from Keely’s childhood. Could it seem to the others that everything she wrote was based on her life? And was that right?

When she finished reading, she forced herself to smile briefly and sat back in her chair with relief.

    “And finally, I’ll read from my magnum opus.” With a nod to Keely, Grace said, “I’m writing a novel set in the Roman Empire during the days before Caesar was emperor.”

Keely almost laughed aloud as she listened to her beloved but slightly daffy former teacher read about gladiators, swords, togas, and green grapes. Her work was romantic and certainly not true to facts, but much more fun than what she’d have expected from her.

“All right,” Grace said when she’d finished her reading. “Time for a ten-minute break. Use the restrooms, stretch your legs, drink some water.” She rose and left the room.

“I’m going outside for a smoke,” Mike announced. “Want to join me, Keely?”

“No, thanks. I don’t smoke.”

Bonnie rose. “I’ll join you, Mike. I don’t smoke, but I could use some fresh air.”

Keely glanced at Bonnie and quickly lowered her eyes. Was Bonnie hoping to link up with Mike romantically? Passion in the Writers’ Workshop, Keely thought, smiling to herself. She rose and stretched her arms, trying to decide what to do. She wanted to speak with Isabelle, but she was afraid of being rebuffed. How strange life was, how strange people were, how strange Keely was, that as a child she could throw herself into the cold, uncaring ocean, yet now was timid about walking six feet across a room to speak to an old friend.

She gathered her courage and pushed her chair back from the table. At that moment, Isabelle walked up to Violet, murmured something obviously humorous, and the two women walked out of the room, grinning like a pair of mean girls from high school.

“Let’s walk,” Grace said.

“Oh, what?” Keely’s thoughts were so tangled, she almost jumped when Grace spoke to her.

“Walk. Up and down the hall. It’s good for the body, good for the brain.” Grace held the door open and Keely joined her as they left the room.

    “I never had the chance to congratulate you,” Grace said, comfortably linking her arm through Keely’s. “A novel published and a new one coming out this summer? Phenomenal. How do you like living in New York?”

“I like it a lot,” Keely said. “It’s…stimulating. Electric with energy.”

“Mmm. I go in once a year to see theater. I always find myself dazed and exhausted.”

“Oh, me, too. But when I lived here, the Cape Cod Mall dazed and exhausted me.”

They laughed together.

“Are you retired from teaching?” Keely asked Grace.

“I am. I took early retirement. I do miss it. But I want to do so many other things while I’m still reasonably young, and my husband died last year, you know—”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Yes. Well. He was a good deal older than I am, so it wasn’t an enormous surprise, but it was a breathtaking loss. I’m glad I live in this small town where I have so many friends to help me keep from falling into despair. I don’t know that I would be sane without them. Certainly I wouldn’t be happy.”

“My mother retired about six months ago,” Keely confided. “She’s finding it difficult. She doesn’t really know what to do with herself.”

“I’ve been there. You think, when you’re working, that you can’t wait to retire so you can do all the projects you’re longing to do. Knitting that sweater. Learning to play piano. Writing a book. But woman is a social animal. We’re not meant to cower in our caves, painting the walls. Studies have shown that people live longer if they have an active social life.” Before Keely could respond, Grace said, “Don’t tell your mother I said that. She’ll figure it out for herself. She’s a smart cookie.”

They’d reached the end of the hall and did an about-face.

“So,” Grace said. “I remember when you and Isabelle were best friends in high school. You were inseparable.”

    Keely smiled. “Well, things change.”

“People change,” Grace said. “And they can keep changing.”

“Her life is so different from mine.” Keely wasn’t thinking about Tommy and their daughter as much as she was thinking about Isabelle’s large, loving, close-knit family. The Maxwells’ wonderful spacious house, their sprawling yard. The garage was a three-car unit, so the apartment above was large and airy, and in the backyard was a playground set complete with turrets, slides, and swings the Maxwells had built for Sebastian and his friends, and then Isabelle and her friends, and now Brittany.