Page 40 of The Summer Club

Until then, the only summer spot she’d been to had been Coney Island, where her parents brought them on the rare day off work. And once, Rockaway Beach, where she went with her nursing friends. Tish’s parents had not taken the family on vacations. They had jobs to work, mouths to feed. The very notion of a vacation was absurd.

Standing in the backyard that day staring out at the Atlantic Ocean, Tish had felt both an overwhelming sense of awe and smallness in the world. She had no idea it would be nothing compared to the smallness she would later feel in the house behind her.

“That weekend changed my life.” Among all that beauty and decadence, there had been ugliness.

Whatever Morty had seen in her that fateful day at the Columbia football game, his parents never would. Not when she’d given them a grandson; an heir to the family. And not later, when Morty was unthinkably stolen from them and she and Charley were all that was left. Now she looked at Charley, whose expression was earnest. He wanted to hear more.

Morty had done as he promised that Memorial Day weekend and lovingly presented his bride-to-be to all of his family friends. Never once letting go of Tish’s hand, he led her from group to group and table to table of well-heeled guests curious about the young woman Morty Darling had so suddenly proposed to. They had never before heard of her. O’Malley was not a name within their circles.

Tish was unprepared.

“Where is your family from?”

“What does your father do?”

“Where do you usually summer?”

The mouthwatering lobster was difficult to choke down in the midst of such inquiries. The champagne soured in her stomach. Tish could tell by their reactions, however polite, that they were disappointed. And worse, suspicious. But the worst was to come. Sprinkled among the generation of Morty’s parents’ guests was her own generation, the now young adults Morty had grown up with each summer in the Hamptons. Played tennis with at the club. Raced against in regattas. Been expected to keep company with, when he proposed. And there was one among them, in particular, who his family had not given up on.

It was Matilda who delivered her. Tish and Morty were standing by a table of desserts when they heard his mother approach.

“Look who I found! And she tells me you haven’t even said hello to her yet.”

“Our dear Rebecca” was the first clue. The elated look on Matilda’s face as she escorted Rebecca to them was the other.

Rebecca Whitmore’s glowing smile was for Morty alone. Tish stepped back as Rebecca threw her tanned arms around her fiancé’s neck and squealed.

“Rebecca is a dear family friend,” Matilda said, as if that explained the effusive greeting, though to whom it wasn’t clear. What was clear was she represented far more to Matilda.

What made Tish more uncomfortable than the deliberate show of affection was that Morty did not seem to mind. “Rebecca!” he said, his smile almost as wide as hers. “How long has it been?”

Rebecca demurred. “Who can say? You missed the Christmas party last year. And New Year’s.” Her tone was both chiding and teasing and Tish read right into it. Morty had spent both of those holidays with her.

As if suddenly returning to his senses, Morty turned to her. “You remember me telling you about the Whitmores?”

Tish forced a smile and extended a hand. While she may have recalled the Whitmores being mentioned, she certainly did not recall a young blonde of exquisite attractiveness being in the mix.

“Pleased to meet you. Tish O’Malley.” Then added, “Morty’s fiancée.” Which, to her consternation, Morty had failed to do.

“Hello.” Rebecca gave her a quick once-over, then redirected her focus immediately. “Morty, I hear you’re staying in the city, now that Columbia is done with you! How I wish I could say the same for Harvard.” She sighed. “One more year!”

So she was not just smart, but younger.

“You two used to be thick as thieves!” Matilda said adoringly. “You really ought to catch up. Rebecca, tell Morty about your trip to Spain.”

“Spain!” Morty said it as though he’d never heard of the place.

“I just got home yesterday,” Rebecca went on. “But you know my mother. Straight to the club for a tennis match!” She paused to take a breath. “Do you still play? You were so good!”

Tish had not even known Morty played tennis.

Morty lifted a bashful shoulder. “Not very much anymore.”

At the mention of it, Matilda bubbled like a champagne bottle about to uncork. “Remember when you two were doubles partners? Rebecca, dear, you really should take Morty to the club for a game before he goes back to the city. How about tomorrow?”

“Mother, Tish will be here.”

They all turned as if suddenly remembering her.