The High Season(34)
Ruthie walked back to watch the parade. She listened to the Declaration of Independence and petted dogs and spoke to neighbors and ate a muffin, all the while waiting for the hum in the pocket of her shorts that would signal Carole’s call. When it finally arrived, she almost missed it. She said hello while ducking down a driveway.
“Okay,” Carole said. “Here’s the thing. Mindy and Gloria have a majority on the exec committee as it stands right now.”
“What?”
“She got to Helen.”
“Helen?” This was bad.
“After some hand-wringing she admitted that Mindy has her totally confused but she’s going to vote her way. Mindy keeps blabbing about ‘making the Belfry the MoMA of the East End’ and ‘strong new leadership.’ There’s an emergency meeting of the executive committee on Monday. Which usually means some kind of vote. I can’t call in, I’ll be in the Hebrides. We leave in—oh my God, an hour.”
“What?”
“I’m going on this tour with the kids, and it’s a totally screen-free vacation, so I won’t have my phone. Or email. Insane, right? But Dash and Arden are addicted, so I promised I’d do it if they’d do it.”
“But you’re an adult. You can cheat.”
“I promised them I wouldn’t.”
“But, Carole. You could be the tie-breaking vote! Or talk them out of it.”
“I never break a promise with my kids. It would undermine our whole relationship! I’m a mother before I’m a person. Did I tell you about this? We’re taking a boat to this island and sleeping in tents and they bring cots and stoves and everything…it’s fabulous. It’s roughing it, but, you know, with mattresses and a chef. Think Out of Africa except in the North Sea. Dash is just obsessed with anything Neolithic. Look, just go tomorrow and see what they say.”
* * *
—
SHE WOULD HAVE called Mike for advice, but there was a coolness between them. They’d argued about Jem a week ago and hadn’t talked since. His June had been busy and she’d barely seen him. Whatever current had been stirred up between them the day Adeline arrived had been absorbed into the daily activity of staying afloat. One day he’d come by to pick up Jem; Adeline had offered to bring Jem to Roberta Verona’s Sagaponack house to help her test recipes. Jem was a gifted and intuitive cook, and she had come back (two hours late) with a new energy that had resulted in some amazing dinners, so how could Ruthie complain? Something had happened, some separation from Meret and her crowd, but Jem wasn’t talking, content to bake a variety of breads in the early morning and head off to her shifts at the farm stand.
Then a week ago Ruthie had received a call from Roberta’s office asking for Jem’s Social Security number. Apparently she had been hired by Roberta as a kitchen helper.
“Imagine my surprise,” she said to Mike when she called him.
“Roberta was really impressed with her, and she needs some extra help. She’s working on a new cookbook.”
“Adeline should have checked with us.”
“She did. I mean, she mentioned it to me while I was fixing that leak by the French doors. I might have said we could work it out, I guess. My schedule is pretty light right now, and we could alternate—”
“But you said yes without checking with me first.”
“Adeline was trying to do a good thing. I thought it was generous. As long as we’re talking about it, what do you have against it?”
“She made a commitment to the farm stand. It’s a small operation. She could really mess them up if she walks out. Penny got her the job.”
“Oh, come on, there’s plenty of kids who can ring up corn.”
“That’s not all she does, she oversees the whole CSA program!”
Mike sighed, as if this point was drearily practical. “This could be good for her,” he said. “Have you noticed how shut down she’s been since school let out?”
“She needs a little time. Meret dumped her, apparently.”
“She needs a bigger world. This could be that thing.”
“It’s hours away! Two ferries. Traffic. Or is Roberta going to send a launch?”
“Why do you always bring up obstacles right out of the gate?”
“Because they exist, and they have to be dealt with.”
“If you’d just…just…”
He hadn’t finished the sentence, but he didn’t have to. If you’d just be…not you was implied. Should she just wear the pink shirt everywhere, to convince everyone she was a more fun version of herself?
“Look,” she said, “I want her to be happy and have a glamorous job, but this is kind of crazy.”
“Well, who would want to be crazy,” Mike said, and a tidal wave of rage carried her up and over the wall. She wanted to say everything that had rushed up like blood to the head, hammer him like a prosecutor. She said nothing.
From: Jemma Dutton
To: Mom
I called Adeline to thank her for help w the job w Roberta and she said you said no why From: Mom
To: Jemma Dutton
It’s impractical. I have no idea how we’d get you there and back. It’s at least ninety minutes coming and going. Plus ferry lines. etc From: Jem