The Lucky Ones (13 page)

“You’re an idiot,” Cecile said more gently.

“Don’t remind me.” Natalie closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall. “That was you who threw the rocks at the car, wasn’t it?” she said, her eyes closed.

“They were tiny pebbles.”

“We almost had a heart attack. William was furious. He thought you might have cracked the wind-shield.” Natalie wiped her face with the washcloth. “This is all his fault, the pig.”

“You led him on.”

“Girls? Are you in there?”

Cecile quickly slipped through the door and shut it behind her as their mother opened their bedroom door and peered in.

“I thought I heard you,” her mother said in a low
voice as she glanced at the bathroom. “Is everything all right?”

Cecile stepped into the hall, pulling the bedroom door closed behind her. She leaned against it with her hand on the knob. “Natalie was just telling me about her party,” she said. “I was sound asleep, but she had to wake me up to tell me what a wonderful time she had. You know Natalie.”

“I certainly do.” Her mother yawned as she reached up to take the combs out of her hair. It cascaded around her shoulders, hiding the strand of pearls that lay heavily along her delicate collarbone. “You’ll know how it feels someday, too,” she told Cecile with a lazy smile. “Someday soon, by the look of it.” She lightly kissed Cecile’s cheek. “Go to sleep now, it’s late.”

“Did you have fun at dinner?” Cecile called quietly to her mother’s retreating back.

“It was great.” Her mother stopped at her bedroom door. “I’ll tell you all about it in the morning. Night.”

“Night.”

Natalie was asleep. A faint sour smell rose up from where she lay in her bed. Cecile crawled under her own sheets and stared up into the dark. Someone closed the heavy front door. The lamps on the front porch were turned out. Slow steps sounded on the stairs, doors quietly closed, the house became still and dark. Nothing more would happen here tonight.

T
he morning air was crisp and clear, the blue sky dotted with puffy clouds like dabs of whipped cream, a stiff breeze off the bay promising to blow away all humidity. The water sparkled; the flags on the back of the
Rammer
snapped jauntily in the wind. The high tide that had cleared the beach of all debris now lay lapping lazily against the clean sand. It was a brand-new day.

Poor Jenny, Cecile thought as she headed back up to the house to see what Sheba had made for breakfast. What a horrible day to have to leave. She’d promised to meet Jenny inside the lilac bush at ten o’clock. Maybe one of Sheba’s muffins would cheer her up.

“There you are!” her mother called cheerfully when Cecile stood at the screen door to the terrace.
“Come out here! Dad and I have a surprise.”

Cecile cautiously pushed the door open. From the sound of her voice, they must have declared a truce. Lucy was snuggled in her mother’s lap, her father was sitting at her side. “Guess who’s arriving on Thursday?” her mother said happily as she slid her bare feet under his thighs. He patted her ankle, smiling indulgently.

“Who?” Cecile said.

“Harry!” Lucy jiggled up and down in their mother’s lap with excitement. “Harry’s coming,” she cried.

“He is?” Cecile looked from her mother’s radiant face to her father’s satisfied smile. “How’d that happen?”

“Dad and King worked it out.” Her mother’s eyes glowed, her smile included the whole world. “Well, Dad worked it out,” she said, leaning out to put her slim hand on her husband’s cheek, “but with King’s encouragement, right, Drew?”

“Your mother wouldn’t rest until Harry joined us,” he said. “You know what a mother hen she is. I
sent a telegram to his employers saying we needed Harry at home.”

“We do need him at home.” Her mother settled back contentedly. “It hasn’t been the same, not having him here, has it, Cecile?”

It hadn’t been the same, no. “But I’ve been having fun,” Cecile said.

“Oh, pooh to you.” Nothing could dampen her mother’s spirits. She was dazzling in her victory. She wrapped her arms more tightly around Lucy and noisily kissed her head all over, making Lucy giggle. “At least Lucy’s on my side. You missed Harry, didn’t you, baby?”

“No,” said Lucy, pretending, which made Mrs. Thompson kiss her more.

“Anyway,” Mr. Thompson said to Cecile when he could tear his eyes away from the happy picture of his wife and child, “your mother and I will pick Harry up at the airport on Thursday afternoon and bring him back here for a party.”

“A welcome-home party,” shouted Lucy. “With balloons and cake!”

Her parents looked so self-satisfied, it would have been bad manners for Cecile not to join in. “Have you told Natalie?” she said.

“That sleepyhead?” Her mother laughed. “We won’t see her until noon.”

“If we’re lucky,” her father added.

The mere suggestion of a frown creased her mother’s lovely brow. “Cecile, say you’re happy,” she said. “You’re ruining all my fun with that disapproving face.”

“I’m happy. I’ve got to meet Jenny now. She’s leaving today.”

“Poor Jenny,” Mrs. Thompson said with a careless shrug. “Maybe they’ll come back next year.”

King was driving past when Cecile reached the lilac. He stopped the car and leaned out, smiling as he said, “I hear there’s cause for much celebration in the Thompson household.”

Cecile walked slowly to the car. “You talked my father into it, didn’t you?” she said, refusing to smile. “Because my mother always gets what she
wants. Even if it means flirting with you to make him jealous.”

King looked at his hands on the steering wheel for a minute and then back at Cecile. His face was kind. “You will learn, as you get older, Cecile, that there are people in this world who can make life miserable for everyone around them if they’re not happy, and that it sometimes is a greater show of wisdom if you can help them get what they want for the good of the whole.”

“Give in, you mean.”

“Ahhh…” King rubbed his hand over his chin and mouth as he thought. “Children should try not to be too judgmental as they grow up,” he said at last. “Especially not of their elders. There are things at work they can’t understand.” He gave a small nod of his head. “Although you certainly have a right to your opinion.”

“I’m not a child, and I certainly do.”

The stiff way she said it made King laugh. It was a real laugh, not a condescending adult’s laugh. “Right,” he said, slapping his hand on the steering
wheel before he put the car into gear. “I will never make that mistake again. You’re a tough one, Cecile Thompson, I’ll give you that. You might be happier if you can think of it as taking back August. Your father and I took it back, and now,” King said, holding out his hand, palm up, like an offering, “I gladly give it to you.”

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. “Very well,” Cecile said haughtily, pretending to snatch it. “But next time, I’ll want something more expensive.”

“A diamond necklace, I promise!”

She grinned to hear King laugh as he pulled away. Then she spun around, arms out, face to the sky. It really was a beautiful day, and she, for one, wasn’t leaving. She settled herself inside the lilac bush to wait for Jenny. They were going to decide what to do with Jenny’s last morning. Cecile put two of Sheba’s warm sticky buns, nestled in a napkin, on a stump.

She’d go along with whatever Jenny wanted to do, she decided. Go swimming, maybe, or look for shells? But when Jenny arrived, it was obvious she wasn’t prepared to do either one of these. She wore
a starched smocked dress with a round collar and puffed sleeves. And shoes with socks.

Lucy wore smocked dresses, for heaven’s sake. Cecile watched with amazement as Jenny smoothed her dress around her as she sat carefully down.

“We’re stopping at my grandmother’s house for dinner on the way home,” Jenny explained primly when she was finally settled. She adjusted her velvet headband in case it had slipped. “I had to get dressed so my mother can pack up everything.”

“Here,” Cecile said, holding out the napkin. “I brought you a sticky bun.”

“I already brushed my teeth.”

“More for me then, I guess,” Cecile said.

She eyed Jenny warily while she ate. Jenny looked so odd, sitting there. It was as if one minute, she’d been sitting in a church pew, and the next, she’d been magically transported here, swept up by Dorothy’s tornado, maybe, to end up sitting on a stump inside a bush. All she lacked were white gloves.

“There’s not too much you can do this morning, dressed like that,” Cecile said.

“I know.”

Jenny patted her hair and smoothed her dress again. She looked important and self-conscious, as if she were the keeper of a wonderful secret.

“What’s wrong with you?” Cecile finally asked.

Jenny let out a short burst of air and sat up straight. “The reason why my mother made me get dressed like this is because she’s worried I might do too much with you. Well, not you, I mean, with your sister. Things that would get me in trouble.” The words tumbled out in a rush. “Natalie, I mean.” She looked at Cecile with suspense-filled eyes. “My mother says Natalie’s fast.”

Cecile had sat up very straight, too. “Fast at what?” she said.

“Kissing. William came home with lipstick on his face last night. He told my mother it was Natalie’s.” Jenny’s eyes were gleaming. “He had a dark mark on his neck, too.”

“And he told your mother it was Natalie’s fault?” Cecile said, feeling anger and amazement rising inside. “Why would he tell her anything?”

“She asked.” Jenny had slipped back into her prim-and-proper posture. “He always tells my mother things when she asks.”

“Why didn’t your mother say William was fast?”

Jenny’s eyes opened wide. “Because he’s not…I mean, I don’t know,” Jenny sputtered. “My mother said boys are supposed to want to kiss girls at his age, but that girls are supposed to be slower and wait. Natalie’s only fourteen, you know.”

“I know how old my sister is,” Cecile said. “And your mother’s an idiot.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“Well, she is. Saying girls should be slower than boys. Do
you
think girls should be slower than boys?”

“No…”

“Neither do I. And I think your brother’s an idiot, too, for telling your mother. What kind of tattletale is he?”

“A tattletale with a hickey on his neck,” Jenny said. She clamped both hands over her mouth, her eyes laughing.

“Oh, gross,” Cecile said. It was such a stupid picture, such a silly thing, to think of horrible William with his horrible neck, telling his mommy everything. She suddenly felt like laughing, too. “I’m so sick of all this ridiculous conversation about girls and boys, aren’t you?”

Jenny nodded.

“Listen.” Cecile leaned forward. “I’m going to go and get you a T-shirt and a pair of shorts so we can do something fun.”

“You mean, you want me to change out here?” Jenny cried, looking excitedly around. “In the open?”

“No one can see. I’ll bring a hanger, too,” Cecile said as she stood up, “so you can hang up your dress.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure,” Cecile said. “Your mother never goes out of the house, anyway, so she won’t see you. And no one else cares.”

“Okay.” Jenny stood up and started unbuttoning her dress. “But hurry!” she said.

“I’ll be right back.” Cecile stopped outside the bush. “You get to choose. Where do you want to go?”

There was no hesitation in Jenny’s voice when she said, “Under the dock.”

“They’re gone,” Cecile announced as she came onto the terrace.

“Thank god.” Natalie lowered her magazine and let her head fall back against the chaise. “I’m not going to do a single thing for the rest of our vacation except lie around and work on my tan.”

“Why?” Cecile asked as she sat down. “Was it really so hard getting William to fall in love with you?”

“Hah, in love,” Natalie scoffed. “I hear Harry’s coming home. What’d I tell you?”

“At least Mom won’t be in a rotten mood for the rest of our vacation.”

“True.”

Cecile watched her sister for a minute. Natalie’s face was pale, but the dark circles under her eyes were gone. She looked bleached out but beautiful.

“Mrs. Cahoon told William you’re fast, you know,” Cecile said.

“She did?”

“Yep.”

“God, that is so Cahoony,” said Natalie.

“Cahoony?”

Natalie sat up. “Do you know what William does?” she said.

“What?”

Natalie swung her feet around and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “He carries a tiny notebook around with him all the time to keep track of his expenses. His father told him that if he started the habit when William was young, it would stand him in good stead for the rest of his life.”

“‘Good stead?’” Cecile repeated.

“William writes down every single thing he buys, every day: gas, oil for the car, snacks, magazines…” Natalie’s eyes had some of their old sparkle. “He told me he even writes down ‘personal items.’ That’s what he called them.” She couldn’t hold it in any longer; she laughed.

“What are those?” Cecile said.

“I don’t know. He was too embarrassed to tell me.”

They looked at each other and giggled.

“Can you imagine being married to a person like that?” Natalie said, sighing as she lay back in her chaise.

“I can’t imagine even
kissing
him,” Cecile said.

“Ugh. Please.” Natalie closed her eyes and immediately opened them again. “Let’s make a pact. We will never say the words ‘William Cahoon’ again. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“I have a great idea,” Natalie said. She shut her magazine with a decisive snap. “Let’s ask Sheba to make us a picnic, and then you and I will go to the beach near the club and lie around all afternoon and eat and swim.”

“Okay.”

“You can’t tell Jack, or Lucy, or anyone, that we’re going,” Natalie said as she stood up.

“Good idea.”

“And whatever you do,” Natalie instructed as she
led the way to the door, “don’t start acting all interested in every baby we see on the beach, the way you always do, or we’ll end up baby-sitting all afternoon.”

“Right.” Cecile followed her sister into the house. “And you can’t start making eyes, or flirting, or even talking to any boy, no matter how gorgeous he is.”

“I can’t?” Natalie said, stopping.

“No, you can’t.” Cecile gave her a push to get her moving again. “And wear your tank suit like mine so we’ll look like twins.”

“In your dreams,” Natalie said with a haughty toss of her hair as she knocked in a friendly way against Cecile’s shoulder. “You go get dressed. I’ll check with Sheba. And not a word to the others!” she called as Cecile started up the stairs.

“Not a word to us about what?” asked Jack, who was playing with his little men in the upstairs hall.

“None of your beeswax,” Cecile sang.

“Powpowpow,” said Jack.