White Ivy(53)

When Ivy complimented the beautiful scenery, Ted pointed out the palm-sized flowers with the crinkly fuchsia petals and serrated leaves growing in the underbrush. He said they were rugosas; they’d been brought over from eastern Asia in the mid-1800s, the first report of them occurring on Nantucket. Ivy expressed her admiration at his intimate knowledge of the land. That’s what she called it, the land, because it seemed the only word to match the solemnity with which Ted had spoken about beach roses.

“Some of our friends are horrified by the idea of vacationing in the same spot every year,” said Ted, “but we’re creatures of habit. We wouldn’t trade this for any spot in the world.”

Ivy said Nan was the same way, she preferred domestic comforts to exotic destinations. And by domestic comforts, she meant Nan’s house, which she never left except for her annual trip to visit Ping’s family in Doylestown, Pennsylvania.

“And where do your folks live now?” asked Ted, propping himself onto his elbows.

So it began. Context, subtext. Clarksville was near Princeton, self-employment implied tax write-offs, a small shop meant commercial real estate. This last part wasn’t even a lie—Shen had recently purchased a large warehouse so they could fit all the used junk they could no longer store in their house. Nan complained all the time about their tightening cash flow. Ivy imagined her parents sitting at the kitchen table, punching numbers into Nan’s little plastic calculator—which deserved a spot in the Guinness World Records for its durability—jotting down the little red and black figures into the checkbook, year after year, day after day, until death.

“You and Gideon are the same age?” asked Poppy.

“I’m three months older,” said Ivy. She could see the calculations in Poppy’s head. Twenty-nine for the first kid. That left ten years to pop out three more before she turned forty.

“Gideon says you’re thinking of law school,” said Ted.

“Yes.”

“That’s quite a time, not to mention financial, investment.”

It was hard to gauge from his tone whether he approved of this plan. Ivy nodded in a vague sort of manner that she hoped conveyed both agreement and optimism.

In her tactful, chattering way, Poppy kept them entertained with stories about her eldest brother, Bobby, the uncle Gideon had mentioned who was an attorney in California, until Gideon came back from his swim.

“How’s the water?” Ted asked.

“Frigid,” said Gideon, shivering as a breeze flapped the edges of the parasol.

“Ivy here was telling us about law school,” said Ted.

“Ah,” said Gideon.

What did that Ah mean, Ivy wondered.

“Do you think you’ll apply to nearby schools?” Poppy asked innocently.

“Absolutely,” said Ivy. “I love Boston. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

Poppy placed a hand on her arm. “It’s so nice that Gideon brought you here. We haven’t met any of his girlfriends in, why—it’s been years! Since—well. He’s always been so coy when it comes to his private life.”

“Now, now, Poppy,” said Ted quietly. “Gideon can make his own decisions.”

Gideon jumped to his feet and declared he was hungry, he was going to go back inside.

“Let’s all go,” said Poppy, blushing.

They collected their things in silence. Gideon walked ahead, followed by Ivy, finally the two older folks loitered a few steps behind, speaking with each other in hushed tones.

After lunch, Gideon napped in his room with a headache, and Poppy and Ted went to visit their neighbors down the street. Ivy found a shaded spot on the porch swing to study. She turned the earmarked page of her test prep book and began to read: Evidence + Assumption = Conclusion is the bread and butter of LR. Remember to use keywords as well as critical thinking to locate the conclusion FIRST. Then ask “Why is the conclusion true?” and identify the evidence, ignoring any filler or background. The assumption is what’s missing, what the author takes for granted… She woke up with her cheeks burning. The sun had moved across the sky, low and blinding, facing her head-on. Roux’s precious Bugatti was parked behind Gideon’s car, the convertible roof curved snugly over a little blue body, with headlights so circular and protruding they looked like two eyeballs atop antennae. It was a toy car and Ivy understood that Roux had bought it for that very reason, to show he had no need for practicality, it was simply for amusement.

From the open window of the laundry room out back, she could just make out Sylvia’s voice saying something about air-conditioning. Ivy gathered her book that’d fallen onto the ground and went back inside.

Everyone except for Roux was gathered around a black-and-white cat pawing a sock across the tiled floors. It was obviously a stray. One of its ears was shriveled like a mushroom; its tail was dirty and matted with missing sections of hair. Sylvia was telling Poppy how they’d found it outside the bushes at Tom’s Market, trying to eat a jalape?o pepper. “He obviously used to belong to someone because he’s so sweet around people—he’s not feral at all. He kept rubbing up against my leg and purring for food. I’m going to bring him to the vet tomorrow to get him checked.” She thrust the cat at Ivy, who gingerly pet the top of its normal ear. It seemed neither to like nor dislike humans. When her hand neared its belly, it let out a long hiss and Ivy quickly retracted, brushing away the cat hairs floating in her face.