Page 71 of The Summer Club

And then Cora does something shocking. “Would you like to see more? I’d be happy to show you.”

Whatever the others are doing, Tish cannot say, because at this moment she is engaged. Warily, but willing, she follows her daughter-in-law from room to room. Cora explains each piece matter-of-factly, but as they go, Tish hears the lilt in her voice and notes the ease in her demeanor. Cora loves her art and loves sharing it; this she cannot hide. There is a painting of a peach, Cora claims as her favorite. And the ocean scene, Tish already saw. But the way Cora describes her work, hands and face animated in a way Tish has never witnessed, only deepens the artistry. Tish is given quite the tour. Through the living room and kitchen, into the dining area, and then into the rear bedroom she once shared with Morty that is now a den.

Here Tish is momentarily unable to follow what Cora is saying. The footprint of her old bedroom is the same. As is the golden view of the dunes through the window. This is the bedroom she shared with her husband for the last time that fateful morning. Where they awoke early, limbs entwined. Where Charley scrambled across the covers and squealed in delight as his father snatched him up playfully. Cora stops in the doorway, puts her hand to the frame to steady herself. Her heart is rapping now, off course, and out of kilter. She feels suddenly dizzy.

“Tish? Are you feeling all right?” Cora is very close to her, but blurred. She puts a hand to Tish’s arm and Tish’s instinct is to pull it away, but she can’t.

“Shall we sit?” she asks, and it is not a question. Tish allows herself to be helped to the desk chair.

Once seated, Cora comes back into focus and Tish’s heart rattles back to its normal beat. “Forgive me,” she says. “This was my old room.”

Her daughter-in-law looks at her with what can only be described as empathy. “Would you like a water? Some tea?”

What she wants is her glass of bourbon, but she declines politely. Her heart is not good, but this is not her heart. At least not in a wellness sense. She is overcome and she needs a minute. Already she is starting to feel better. She can feel Morty with her.

“Thank you for letting me come today,” she tells Cora. It’s just the two of them and though this moment alone would never have occurred to her as desirable, she is suddenly grateful to have it. “I am sure it wasn’t easy.”

Cora doesn’t answer right away. “You’re family,” she says finally.

“Yes,” Tish has to agree. “That is true.”

But there is more. Cora’s voice is soft but her message sharp. “It’s what I wish you felt for all of us under this roof. It’s how Charley feels. And has always behaved toward all the children.”

Touché. Cora has gone straight for the elephant and Tish gives her credit for that. She is no shrinking violet.

There is much she wants to say to all of them, on this matter, and she plans to save it for the family sit-down. But she will say one thing, in private, now. “I am not sorry I gave the house to Sydney. As unpopular a sentiment as that might be.”

Cora inhales. “Then why did you come?”

“I want there to be peace.” She rests a hand on her heart and Cora’s eyes follow it there.

“All right,” she says finally. “I want that too. For Charley. For all of us.”

Tish looks past Cora, at the waving dune grass outside. “There are things a mother must do to protect her family.”

“I am no stranger to that instinct,” Cora replies.

“As much as the Darling family has constrained my life, so too has it broadened it. And yours as well.” Here she raises her eyebrows and she can see Cora follows.

“Fair enough,” Cora says.

“When Morty died, I was left with a responsibility to the foundation. Everything we owned was tied to it, including Charley and myself.”

Cora looks away. “Responsibilities can sometimes feel like burdens.”

“You understand then.” Tish is sorry to have to say this, but she is of a different generation, with different obligations. “It’s not personal, Cora. Riptide was Morty’s and Sydney is blood.”

Cora looks away and Tish feels their differences settle in the space between them like a light fog. She didn’t expect to change Cora’s way of seeing things and she isn’t about to let Cora’s perspective change hers. But this airing out, however uncomfortable, is a relief of sorts.

“I’m afraid that is where we differ. Family is family,” Cora tells her. “However it is made up and whomever it’s comprised of.”

“You may all still enjoy Riptide,” Tish reminds her. “Sydney is a good girl. She’s part of you and part of me. I like to think that between us she will figure it out.”

Cora does not reply, but neither does she argue further. There is no hugging, no sentimental promise made.

The two women have spoken their piece, even if they do not see eye to eye. Tish knows they will not. And that is all right.

Charley appears in the doorway. “Andi just drove in, next door. She’s coming.”