Page 18 of The Summer Club

Andi could feel herself flush. Nate had thought of her? Well, the same could not be said for her of him. The Nate in front of her was nothing like the Nate she remembered.

“So what’re you doing these days?”

“I live and work in New York. When the Olsons put the house on the market my mom happened across the listing. And she emailed it to me. Got me thinking.”

“So you bought it?”

“Yeah. I was feeling nostalgic, I guess. We had some pretty special times up here as kids.” He gestured again up the trail. “I renovated the whole place this past winter. You’ve got to see it!”

Andi bit her lip and smiled. “That’d be great.” So Nate was the one with the modern design taste who’d ruined her memory of his family’s place. Though she’d never tell him.

“Andi Darling,” he said again, shaking his head. His eyes crinkled and for a beat she could see the little kid from next door again. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” Though seeing the man he’d grown up to be was such a surprise. In her memory, Nate had always been the scrawny little boy next door who played with Hugh each summer and cracked dumb jokes. But there was nothing scrawny about him anymore and the boyish charm that had apparently followed him into adulthood now served him well.

“Well, it’s getting dark. I should let you get to that swim,” he said.

Andi glanced down the trail. Suddenly, she wasn’t in such a rush anymore. Their chat had been a nice distraction. A really nice distraction. “Aren’t you going to warn me about the sharks? That’s something my mother would do.”

“Nah, I think they should be more worried about you.” There was that boyhood grin again. And before she could think of anything else to say, Nate was already heading back up the trail. “See you around!”

Down on the shore, Andi stood at the water’s edge. The tide was creeping in, lapping at the sand in frothy rivulets. She should just dive in. It would be good for her. Instead, she glanced back over her shoulder to the houses on the rise behind her. From down on the beach she could just make out the roofline and second story of Riptide behind the dunes, its cottage windows aglow. To its right, Nate’s house was still dark. She wondered if he was sitting outside, listening to the ocean. She wondered if he was here alone.

For over forty years she’d been coming to Riptide to lose herself in the carefree embrace of summer. Only six hours ago she’d arrived hoping to do the same thing again this year. To escape the last painful six months, to heal from her divorce, to rebuild. And instead, in the span of six measly hours, her whole world had imploded.

A gentle wave rolled in. Andi stepped into it and kept going. The night air was balmy, the wind calm. She held her breath and let the saltwater swallow her whole.

Tish

Being back unsettles her, and it isn’t just because of her eventful visit to Riptide. Now safely ensconced in her quiet room at the resort across town, even the sparkling harbor view outside cannot alleviate her disquiet.

As soon as the bellboy delivers her bags to the suite, she calls down to the concierge for dinner service. It’s not like she ate any of Cora’s chowder back at the house; nor would she. Cora has always been a simple woman. Who cooked chowder with such airs and called it a “special” dinner to welcome the family? Has the woman not heard of lobster? They’re summering on the New England coast, for Lord’s sake.

In truth, her appetite for food these days has waned. Still, Tish’s doctor insists she eat, so she orders the lobster bisque from the menu even though she knows she’ll just nibble the crackers.

Her work here in Chatham is done, but she wonders if she should stay on. Charley is upset with her, she already knows, and she wonders if she can make her dear son ever understand. She will try. It’s not his fault that she and Cora don’t get along, in spite of his many efforts to change that. Her son, like his father, is a very good man. But what Charley doesn’t realize is that the duty falls on her to maintain the Darling family legacy. Since Morty died, they and Sydney are the last three Darlings. The family foundation may have dwindled to modest remains over the years, but its memory stands large, and it is now left to her to protect it. Morty left her enough to live well on and she’s done that. Now all that’s really left is Riptide.

Morty’s mother had never approved of Tish joining their family, but thankfully Morty was not influenced by his parents’ sentiments. He was a remarkable husband and partner to Tish the entirety of their marriage. The darling of the Darlings, she used to tell him. And for his sake and in his memory, Tish has done her best to honor the family foundation work left for her to take up. They were not just any family. Morty’s great-grandfather, a young man who’d immigrated to New York from Dunfermline, had seen opportunity. He’d invested early in the steel industry and later in shipping and railroad building, securing a sizable fortune for his family. Morty loved to tell his grandfather’s story: how he arrived with few possessions and even less money and had made a name for himself from nothing. Though they didn’t achieve the same titanic wealth as the Rockefellers or Vanderbilts, the Darlings skirted the edges of the same societal circles. To Tish, Morty’s family resembled the American Dream: a dream beyond what her own family dared to even imagine, and Morty himself was her savior. With his partnership, she had enjoyed a life beyond her wildest dreams.

Then came the horrific day in the place they loved best. The storm off the coast that hurtled unexpectedly up the bent arm of the Cape, landing right on Chatham Harbor. The rain and wind that followed. The capsized boat that washed ashore, empty. And then, silence.

Tish’s world screeched to a halt. Her loss was incalculable, her heart broken. If she’d felt lonely in the family before, now she was truly alone. Her own family had distanced themselves from her; they did not understand her lifestyle. And though they remained in touch, it was not the same. Besides, they hadn’t the means to help a widowed young mother. Unless she wanted to move back into her parents’ apartment, still housing a few of her youngest siblings, she was on her own. Except for the Darlings.

The stark realization hit hard, but there was no time to dwell. Tish had done what she had to do to continue to provide for young Charley in the way he was accustomed to living, just as Morty would want her to. But it meant giving up her autonomy. Living under the Darling family eyes and within the constraints of the family foundation was not at all easy for her, despite the wealth they were surrounded by. None of it was hers. As laid out, in a will Tish had not even known existed, everything had gone to young Charley. Morty’s mother was named the trustee and Tish merely Charley’s guardian.

“Don’t take it personally,” Morty’s mother had said to her the day after the funeral service when they met in her conservatory room with the family attorney. “It’s how it’s done within the family.” Tish’s sad gaze had roamed over the lead glass windows as she listened to the reading of the will. While the sun burned impossibly bright outside, she felt a curtain of darkness settle over her with each provision the attorney listed. The two of them would be cared for, as long as directives were obeyed. The two would have residences on each of the family estates and keep their apartment in the city, all owned and managed by Morty’s parents. It was the first time Tish realized her great oversight: she’d not known their apartment was not truly theirs. And an angry plume of shame rose within; why hadn’t she asked more questions? She’d known Morty had a trust, that his wealth was familial. But why hadn’t he told her that everything she’d thought of as theirs was actually the family’s? Why hadn’t she insisted on a will?

As Charley’s guardian, Tish would be entrusted to make sure he went to the best schools and maintained the family travel schedule with regular trips to Europe, Africa, Asia. As he grew up, she was expected to keep him ever present and prepared, as sole heir to the Darling family. At the best of times she felt cared for; how could she not, with the trappings of car services, well-appointed houses, access to summer cottages and city apartments? But with the wealth that provided for her and her young son came stringent expectations and restrictions that often felt like shackles.

Tish had to keep Charley in the city. Enroll him in the best schools as a child, and later, the finest boarding schools as a teen. Be present always for family holidays and travels—and whatever social events of the season required her presence. She knew it was not about her; she imagined that if anyone had to die, they would have breathed a collective sigh of relief if only it had been her instead. But that had not happened. They were stuck with her, and as such, the arrangements they made for Charley meant that she was stuck too. And though she never gave much thought to finding love again—how could she after Morty?—that was the last condition. Tish would keep the Darling name and remarriage was out of the question. Her life had been full of comforts and opportunities she knew others would give their left arm for; she was not bitter, some would say she was blessed. But the chains of family loyalty hung heavy and ever since the day her husband had died, she was never truly happy again.

Which is why she is doing what she must do now: preserve Riptide for the family. The real family. Sydney was not a son, but times had changed. What she was was the last generation of Darlings. And Riptide was the last place Tish, Morty, and Charley had been a family. The last place they’d all been truly happy. There was no telling how Cora and her children felt about it. As far as Tish knew, if anything happened to Charley, Cora would sell Riptide. And she could not let that happen. Hard as it was, giving the house to Sydney would keep Morty’s wish and memory alive.

Besides, she had already done so much for Cora, even if Cora didn’t realize it. Against her better judgment, she’d reluctantly kept Cora’s secret all these years. But she could do it no longer. Though she had to admit she’d come to feel that Hugh and Andi were like family and, though she did not want to hurt their feelings, she’d always felt they deserved to know the truth. What if something happened medically and knowing their biological father’s history would make a difference? What if they simply wanted to know their ancestry? Or the man who fathered them himself? Those were important things. Things that Cora was keeping from them.

Besides, Tish had her own reasons. Over the years, the family foundation had waned under the management of Morty’s father. A series of bad investments and a penchant for delegating oversight of his holdings had caused much of it to crumble. By the time his parents passed away, Tish was shocked to learn by how much. Their numerous properties were sold off and accounts settled. In the end, she would be fine: there was enough for Tish to live quite comfortably in the New York apartment. Enough to leave Charley a sound inheritance. And then there was Riptide. The place that had meant more to Morty than any of the rest. If she knew she was the real heir of the Darlings, Sydney would appreciate that fact. She would protect it.

Now Tish glances at the clock. It’s seven, and the sun is dipping low over the water outside. She wonders what Charley is thinking back at the cottage. She wonders if he will see the gift in what she did, as it was intended. Despite her devout Catholic upbringing, Tish is not the praying kind, but right now she prays that Charley will forgive her for what she had to do; that he will somehow come to understand. There are some things a family must do to protect their own, and this duty has fallen on Tish, for better or worse.