Summer Love Read online

Ariel did seem nice. Sheila was well aware that she had a tendency to be envious and insecure, and that she often, as her mother said, cut off her nose to spite her face. Whatever she thought of Ariel, Sheila knew she needed to be friendly. After all, they were sharing quarters in this dismal basement for the summer. Maybe they would all be friends. She tucked a small camera into her beach bag, along with her wallet and sunblock, even though it was late afternoon.

  A light tap on the door made Sheila jump.

  She opened the door. “I’m sorry,” she said to Ariel. “I didn’t realize I had locked it. Oh, what a pretty sarong. Thank you for loaning it to me. I’m kind of nervous about the ocean thing. I grew up in the Midwest and I only swam in swimming pools.”

  Ariel put her hands on her hips. “Sheila, look at you! You’re like the Venus de Milo with red hair. Honestly, I am jealous. You’re going to drive men crazy.”

  Sheila blushed. “I’m kind of engaged. To my college boyfriend, Hank.” She wrapped the sarong around her, tying it in a knot at her breastbone.

  “Thank heavens,” Ariel said, laughing.

  Before Sheila could reply, one of the men yelled from the hall, “Come on, girls, let’s go before the sun sets!”

  Ariel took Sheila by the wrist and pulled her out of the room. Wyatt and Nick were at the end of the hall by the door leading to the outside.

  “Shouldn’t I lock my door?” Sheila asked.

  Nick snorted. “Yeah, because someone will want to break into a room in the basement of a half-demolished hotel.”

  * * *

  —

  The bike shop was nearby. They rented ancient, dented bikes with baskets and headed down South Beach Street, single file. Nick led, steering with his knees, doing the kind of show-off tricks a teenager would do, every now and then glancing over his shoulder and flashing his movie star smile at the others. Wyatt’s old bike creaked along under his comfortingly steady movements. Ariel went next, and behind her, Sheila rode with her hands tense on the handlebars, terrified she’d wreck the bike and herself at any moment.

  A long, wide parking lot fronted the beach and the radiant expanse of water spinning from indigo into pale turquoise as it lapped onto the sand. An empty bike rack was waiting there, as if meant for them.

  “Wow,” Nick said as he slid his bike into the rack. “We’ve got the beach almost completely to ourselves!”

  “Most people are getting ready for dinner,” Wyatt said sensibly.

  They propped their bikes in the rack, kicked off their shoes, and set their pale, bare feet in the sand. It was toasty warm.

  “Aaah,” Ariel sighed. “Summer.”

  “Yeah, summer,” Nick agreed.

  Sheila couldn’t speak. She was overwhelmed by the luxurious golden sand and the sparkling blue water.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Wyatt said.

  “Let’s get wet!” Nick said, and he began to run over the sand. The other three joined him.

  They ran into the water at the same time. Near the shore, it was shallow and warm, but they kept on moving as the waves splashed up to their knees, then their waists—Sheila screamed at the cold—then their shoulders. Sunlight trembled over the water. It was as if they’d entered another universe, a new reality, where all they had to do was surrender to the embrace of the liquid blue.

  Nick and Wyatt ducked under and came up far out, swimming freestyle away into the seemingly endless water. Ariel and Sheila were only a few yards apart.

  “Relax,” Ariel told Sheila, and fell backward into the water, letting it support her, floating faceup to the sun.

  Carefully, Sheila did the same, sighing in pleasure at the coolness of the water on her back and the warmth of the sun on her face. She drifted. It felt like a blessing.

  After a while, Ariel flipped over and began to swim a few yards. She returned to shore, shook her hair free of water, and sat down on the sand, her arms around her knees.

  Sheila joined her.

  “We should have brought towels,” Ariel said.

  “Next time,” Sheila answered, still in a kind of trance.

  They sat together, looking out at the men, who were now headed back. It was the time of day and the time of year when the sun remains high in the sky, shining down on the water, making it feel as if this was the whole world, the day would never end, they would always be young, and life would always be full of joy.

  The men hit the shallows and stood shaking water from their hair, Nick’s black as a pirate’s, Wyatt’s as brown as a seal’s.

  Ariel said, “How lucky are we to have two good-looking men for the summer? I’ll take Wyatt. You can have Nick.”

  As if, Sheila thought. “I told you, I’m engaged to my college boyfriend.”

  Ariel laughed. “Then this is your last free summer. Make the most of it! Come on, I mean, flirt a little. Maybe kiss a few guys when you feel like it.”

  “A few guys?” Sheila studied the woman sitting next to her, so slim and cool, the epitome of a Barbie princess doll.

  Ariel laughed and stretched out her arms. “Oh, yes, lots of men. Sheila, we’ll never have this summer again.”

  The two men came toward them, tall and handsome, water glistening on their chests.

  “It doesn’t get better than that,” Wyatt said, sitting down next to Ariel.

  “Wait a minute,” Nick said. “I’ll get us some snacks.” He dashed off toward the parking lot.

  The three watched as Nick chatted to two women in a red convertible. Then he climbed into the back, and the car drove off.

  “What’s he doing?” Sheila asked.

  “I wouldn’t worry, he’ll be back.” Wyatt stretched out on the sand, hands behind his head, eyes closed. “This is the life.”

  Ariel studied Wyatt, taking in his messy brown hair, his handsome face, his tanned torso, his furry chest, his long legs, his funny bony feet. She wanted to touch him so much it hurt.

  She glanced down the beach. Only a few steps away were a couple of plastic buckets left behind by children. Ariel put her fingers to her lips in a sh motion to Sheila. She rose, scooped sand into both buckets, and dumped the sand on Wyatt’s legs.

  Wyatt opened his eyes. “What are you doing?”

  Ariel laughed, refilled her bucket, and motioned to Sheila to do the same.

  Sheila hesitated, but she wanted Ariel to like her. She jumped up and joined in.

  In no time at all, they had covered Wyatt up to his chest in sand. “You’re acting like children,” Wyatt chided, but he didn’t move. As they were dumping sand on his shoulders, he said, “Actually, this is relaxing. It feels like…like a sand shower.” He laughed. “Just don’t dump any on my face.”

  “Oh,” Sheila cried, “we would never do that!”

  Ariel’s eyes met Wyatt’s and they both smiled.

  “Hey! Look what I’ve got!”

  The red convertible was back in the parking lot and Nick was in the process of climbing out while holding a six-pack of beer and a bag of chips. A striped beach towel hung over his shoulder. He kissed the girl driving right on the mouth. She grinned and drove away.

  Nick came down the beach, waving his loot like a conquering hero.

  “Beer and chips, baby!”

  Wyatt rose from his sand blanket and ran back into the water, dunking his head and rinsing the sand from his hands.

  Ariel took the towel from Nick’s shoulder, beckoned to Sheila, and together they spread it out on the sand.

  “Who’s your daddy now?” Nick dropped to the towel and set the beer and chips in front of him.

  “How did you do that?” Sheila asked.

  “I asked the girls for a ride into town and back. I told them I was with my country mouse cousins who are here swooning at the sight of the ocean, which they’ve never seen before, and I wanted to supply us all with treat
s. Sweet girls. I’m taking Paula out for ice cream tomorrow night.”

  “What a wheeler-dealer you are,” Ariel said.

  “Be nice, children, and drink your beer,” Nick replied.

  Wyatt popped the tab on his beer and drank deeply. “You’re a king, Nick. This is exactly what I need right now.” He drank again.

  “Come on, ladies, catch up,” Nick said, swigging his own beer.

  Ariel winked at Sheila. “Oh, don’t worry, we’ll catch up.”

  Sheila wasn’t fond of beer, but she was thirsty, so she took a long drink, feeling the cool liquid slide down her throat.

  “Nick,” Ariel said, “you bought one six-pack, and there are four of us. What are you going to do with the extra two?”

  Nick made an obvious sweep of his eyes over Ariel’s body. “Why, darlin’, we’ll all have to share.”

  Pleasure fluttered over Ariel. Nick was such an obvious flirt, and he was—the perfect word came to her mind—dashingly handsome. He was playful. He was fun. Ariel touched her hand to her breast in an imitation of shock. “What? You mean our lips will have to touch the same can you big brawny males will drink from?”

  Nick held Ariel’s eyes. He was silent for one beat. Two. Three. “Tell you what. Wyatt and I will share one beer, and you and Sheila can share the other. Will that satisfy you?”

  “It will,” Ariel said. “Nick, you are a gentleman and a scholar.”

  When the four had swallowed the last drop of beer, Sheila jumped up from the sand, excitement all over her face.

  “Look what I brought!” She held up a small throwaway camera. “I’m going to take photos of us. Someday we’ll look at them and remember our first day on the island.”

  A woman with a child walking past overheard them. “Why don’t you join your friends and let me take a photo of the four of you?”

  “That would be great! Thanks!” Sheila handed her the camera and sat down next to Ariel.

  “Lean together, for heaven’s sakes,” the woman said. “Look happy! Smile!”

  The four obeyed, each of them thinking that they’d only just met. They weren’t a group yet, and might never be.

  The woman snapped several shots, tossed the camera to Sheila, and raced off to catch her child at the water’s edge.

  “I’ll get these developed when the roll is full,” Sheila said.

  “Cool,” Ariel said, just to be nice.

  The long low moan of a horn alerted them to the sight of a ferry coming out of the harbor. The group went quiet, watching the large boat cutting smoothly through the water. Several sailboats were farther out, their sails white triangles on the blue. A family raced down the beach past them, the children screaming at the top of their lungs, the parents laughing. The family jumped into the water, dunking one another, splashing one another’s faces, and the drops of water in the light of the low summer sun sparkled like sequins.

  “I’m hungry,” Wyatt said. “I need more than chips.”

  “Pizza,” Nick said. “We can get it on Broad Street and eat it on Easy Street, looking at the harbor.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been here before,” Ariel said.

  “I’ve been everywhere before,” Nick bragged.

  “Don’t we need to change clothes?” Sheila asked.

  Ariel said, “Sweetie, for pizza on a bench, you’re overdressed.”

  They biked from the Jetties beach over to South Beach and stopped at Broad Street, the long strip of pavement leading from the Steamship Authority’s docks past the fast-food shops and on up into the expensive end of the street lined with classy restaurants and stores. Nick and Wyatt ordered a pizza each. Ariel and Sheila ordered one to split. They all bought Cokes from a machine and wandered down to the benches on Easy Street.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry,” Sheila said. She didn’t want to be unladylike, but she tore into the pizza, savoring the thick cheese, the spicy sauce, the perfect crust.

  They sat together, happily munching, watching a small red rowboat bobbing in the water and the duck couple paddling around muttering to each other.

  “All right,” Nick announced after he’d eaten his last bite. “Time to deal the cards. We’re going to share close quarters for three months. Let’s get to know each other. I’ll start. Remember the kid in elementary school who couldn’t sit still and started all the pranks that got us in trouble? That’s me. I’m a social animal. When I attended Harvard, I worked nights at the Ritz, and I’m telling you, that is my world. I’m all about making people happy. I’ll run six blocks to get someone just the right bagel. I enjoy meeting celebrities and sports stars, but just as much I get a kick from making a grumpy old dowager smile. I’m going to work at Fanshaw’s, an upscale men’s clothing store where I hope I make a lot of business contacts.”

  “You sound like fun,” Sheila said.

  Nick flashed his movie star smile at her. “Honey, I’ll give you all the fun you want.”

  Sheila blushed.

  Wyatt intoned slowly, “I’m a scientist. My father is Benjamin Smith, the discoverer of the one hundred and fourth element, smithonium. I’m going to study for my PhD and work for my father at the University of Missouri. My mother insisted I get my head out of a beaker for a while. She has a friend who told me Nantucket is totally different, so I came here to work at Cabot’s Marine.”

  “Cool,” Nick said. Like a television host, he directed, “Sheila, take it away.”

  Sheila was pulling a long strand of cheese off her teeth. Could she be any more gauche?

  “Um, I, I’m from Cleveland, Ohio. I just graduated from Cleveland State University. I have a job as a chambermaid at a guesthouse here, the Rose Hotel. I’m going to marry my boyfriend, Hank, when I get back, but I wanted to make some money and have…a little adventure before I settled down.” She sighed with relief and looked at Ariel.

  “Okay, let me think,” Ariel said, perfectly comfortable with people who were relative strangers. “I have a job as a receptionist at the Amos Longenecker Real Estate Agency. I’m from Boston, graduated from Emerson, and I’m not sure about my career path. I want to be a novelist, but I know that doesn’t happen without years of work, so I’m determined to enjoy this summer and not think of the future.”

  “I get you,” Nick said.

  In the distance, the church clock chimed eight times.

  “We have to go home,” Wyatt moaned. “I’ve got to be at my job at eight sharp tomorrow.”

  “We all need to shower,” Sheila said, brushing sand off her arms.

  “You mean together?” Nick asked, quirking an eyebrow.

  “That would certainly be efficient,” Wyatt said with a grin.

  “Or not,” Nick snickered, glancing at Wyatt.

  Sheila was horrified. “Not together!”

  “Stop it,” Ariel said to the men. “Just for that, Sheila and I get the first showers. Separately.”

  They dumped their paper napkins and pizza boxes in a convenient bin and headed toward the site of the demolished hotel and its one standing wing. From a distance, in the fading light, the building looked almost romantic, like the ruin of a British cathedral.

  “Are we going to be treated to the music of power saws and drills?” Ariel asked.

  “Not for a while,” Nick told her. “I spoke with Sharon Waters. The construction is all tied up in paperwork. Historic District Commission. The sewer and water companies. Stuff like that.”

  The four gazed at the lawn and the neglected flower garden around the hotel.

  “Hard to believe this place was once called the Palace,” Ariel said.

  Nick put his hands on the waistband of his suit and shook it. Sand rained down his legs.

  “I think we should call it the Sand Palace,” he said.

  “Absolutely!” Ariel agreed, clapping her hands and laughi
ng.

  “It’s the only time in my life when I’ll live in a palace,” Sheila said mournfully.

  “Oh, Sheila, hush,” Ariel told her. Taking her hand, she pulled Sheila toward the doorway. “You’re not allowed to be maudlin this summer.” She looked over her shoulder at Nick and Wyatt.

  “You guys can shower after we have ours,” Ariel said.

  “Fine,” Nick answered. “We’ll be in our rooms, digging spy holes into the walls.”

  Sheila looked alarmed. “But—”

  “Sheila, hush,” Ariel said again, laughing as they hurried toward their rooms.

  two

  This Summer

  The Lighthouse, previously Rockers, and before that the Nantucket Palace, had officially opened at the end of April. On June 10, Jade-Marie Volkov stood at the reception desk, eager for the day to begin. Like all the staff uniforms, hers was a light gray, with her name embroidered in red on the left breast pocket with a small lighthouse beneath it. Jade-Marie’s long dark hair was swept back in a messy bun. She wore high-heeled peep-toe pumps and the elegant Chopard watch her father had given her when she turned twenty-one.

  Her father, Nick Volkov, owned this hotel, among other properties. He had lived here once, years ago, when he was only twenty-two. Back then, the hotel had been undergoing renovation. Nick and three others had rented four basement rooms while they worked on the island. That summer they had become close, a kind of gang of four. Over the past twenty-five years, they had casually kept in touch with one another, mostly through the medium of what his wife, Francine, called Christmas brag-and-gag letters, but Nick was aware that some summers Sheila and her family went to visit Wyatt and his family or vice versa. Midwestern heat, backyard barbecues, hometown baseball games, the kids sleeping on air mattresses on the floor. They had never once invited Nick and his family. Probably the others thought Nick and Francine were snobs. Probably they were right.

  Now Nick had bought and renovated the hotel where the four had met all those years ago, and Nick wanted a reunion with them at his place. He called it a reunion. His wife called it showing off. In spite of that, Nick had invited the other three, and their spouses and children, to be his guests at the hotel for a week in June.