Summer House by Nancy Thayer

Author:Nancy Thayer [Thayer, Nancy]
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-345-51521-6
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2008-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

All these years later, as Helen lay sleepless in bed before the wedding of her own older son, she assured herself that family was still first in Worth’s heart. He wouldn’t want a divorce. She was pretty sure of that.

But then, she had never expected him to be unfaithful.

She hadn’t yet confronted Worth with her knowledge of his affair. She knew that when she did, the ground under their marriage would crumble. A divide had already opened between them, but a bridge still joined their parallel lives, a necessary union, supporting their family. First, to celebrate Nona’s birthday with the attention it deserved, and now, three weeks later, to honor Oliver and Owen’s wedding.

Oliver’s wedding was the last big event for the family. Then the summer would truly have arrived. Nona’s house would remain full of her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren until fall. Worth and the other Bank Boys would come and go, dividing their lives between Boston and Nantucket, but Helen would stay on the island as she always had, helping Glorious and Grace buy groceries, cook, and clean, and also swimming, sailing, playing tennis, and attending concerts and plays. It was always a luxurious, idle few weeks. This year, Helen wanted to get to know Suzette better; the young woman seemed to trust her more each day. She thought Suzette felt comfortable with Charlotte and Nona, too; she certainly hoped so. Suzette would have her baby in September.

And Teddy? Teddy was working! He was managing Gray Lady Antiques. Helen didn’t care what Suzette’s background was, she was a miracle worker where Teddy was concerned. Teddy was not drinking or doing drugs, he wasn’t playing stupid practical jokes or getting speeding tickets or sneaking out to the garden to smoke pot. He was working and attending AA meetings every day, and he was obviously in love with Suzette and happy about the coming baby. This was a fragile peace for Teddy, an unusual and delicate state. Helen didn’t want to upset it by a breath of dissension, and certainly not by the torching explosion of her anger at Worth.

Helen twisted onto her left side and punched her pillow. This bed was lumpy. The summer air was gradually increasing in humidity, and in her irritated state she thought she could feel her hair frizzing. She forced herself to take deep, calming breaths.

Suddenly she heard a noise, and then she felt someone on the bed. She raised her head and saw her husband sitting there in his striped cotton pajamas.

“Worth?”

“I have melancholy,” Worth said, and, lifting the sheet, he climbed into bed with her, lying on his side so that she spooned against his back.

I have melancholy—that was a family catchphrase. When Oliver was a very small child, he’d said that to them the day after Christmas, and since then they used the remark whenever nothing was really wrong but something seemed missing, some essential but invisible thing.

How very strange, almost shocking, it was to have Worth’s warm solid bulk sinking into this narrow bed with her.

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