Page 41 of The Summer Club
Matilda feigned surprise. “Oh. You’re staying for the whole weekend?”
Morty threw Tish an apologetic look. “I believe I mentioned that, Mother. A few times.”
“Do you play?” Rebecca interjected brightly.
Tish shook her head. “I don’t.”
“Do you sail?”
“Not really.”
Rebecca’s bright expression dimmed. “Oh.” But then she grabbed Morty’s hand. “Remember that time we stole the dinghies and took them out into the sound? We got in so much trouble!”
Matilda clapped her hands. “Trouble! I seem to recall your father rescuing both of you. The club was not happy. We thought they’d revoke our memberships.”
Tish forced a smile as they all laughed uproariously at the memory.
And then Matilda did something she had never done before. She took Tish’s hand in her own. “Let’s go get you some of that wonderful lemonade. We wouldn’t want to bore you while these two catch up. It will probably take a while.”
Tish felt a wave of outrage course through her. It was the only time Matilda Darling had ever addressed her personally, and while she could not refuse the invitation, she knew it had nothing to do with the lemonade.
As Matilda led her away, Tish glanced back. Rebecca was chatting away, that giant, stupid smile still plastered on her glowing face.
“You’ll have to forgive Morty,” Matilda said. “He and Rebecca go back a long way. You know how first loves never quite leave you.” She handed Tish an ice-cold glass of lemonade, her eyes steely as she said it.
So they had been a couple. Morty had never mentioned that fact either.
“Morty is a gentleman,” Tish concurred.
“You should’ve seen them! Inseparable, those two.” Matilda cocked her head and gazed dreamily past Tish. “So many memories together.”
Tish followed her gaze, turning just in time to see Rebecca reach for the sleeve of Morty’s linen jacket. She tipped her head back laughing, as though whatever he’d said was the funniest thing she ever did hear. Tish waited for her to remove her hand. Rebecca did not.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up in the ladies’ room.”
Matilda barely registered. “Of course. In the main hall, just past the conservatory.”
Tish could not escape fast enough. As she climbed the granite steps up to the main patio, she cursed herself for feeling so small. Rebecca Whitmore was just a girl. But that wasn’t the whole truth. She was an Ivy girl. With almond-colored skin and perfect white teeth and a golden mane of hair. From a moneyed family who belonged to the same clubs and pedigreed circles. Everything Matilda Darling could dream of in a daughter-in-law.
Tish stumbled through the large French doors. Even in her state, she had the sense to halt and take it all in. The marble floors echoed beneath her square-heeled shoes. Her eyes traveled to the sweeping ceilings, the silk drapery, the imposing oil portraits on the walls. A single jade velvet settee and two gilded armchairs flanked a baby grand piano. Austere in its formality, Tish could feel Matilda’s touch on every surface.
Standing in the bathroom, Tish splashed her flushed cheeks with cold water and stared into the blue eyes looking back at her. Her dark hair was pinned back and curled, her eyelet dress perhaps not as striking as the rest of them, but the determination in her gaze was unrivaled. These were not her people and tonight she felt with certainty she was not theirs. But if she wished for a life with Morty, concessions would have to be made. She straightened in the mirror.
“When I came out of that bathroom, your father was waiting for me,” she tells Charley now. While she has spoken, Charley has eaten the rest of his scone and three tea sandwiches. She orders another tray.
“What did he say?” Charley asks. “Please tell me he stuck up for you.”
Tish is grateful for this remark. Perhaps the beginning of an understanding between them is finally being laid. “It’s your father we’re talking about. Of course he did.”
What Morty did was take Tish’s hands in his own and press his lips to hers. “You are the most beautiful woman here. And likely the smartest of all. Don’t let anyone make you feel any different, you hear?”
Then he led her outside and down the steps and right to the middle of the dance floor. “Just a moment, my love.” An East Coast swing was just wrapping up as Charley approached the stage. He nodded to the band leader, who tipped his ear. A moment later, Charley returned and took Tish’s hand again. The band started up, and to Tish’s delight the lead singer began crooning Tony Bennett’s “Because of You.” Morty pulled her in so tight Tish’s breath escaped her, but in his arms so too did all the doubt and frustrations she’d been feeling. As they circled the dance floor together, slowly, Tish could feel eyes upon them.
“Let them look,” Morty whispered in her ear, as if reading her mind. “Let them see what we have.”
Now sitting across the table from Charley at the Captain Farris House tearoom, Tish recalls the elation of that moment. “Your father saw in me what his own family could not.”
Charley sits back in his chair, an unreadable expression on his face. She’d thought this story would help him understand. But instead, he looks pained.