The Family Fortune

too much.

“Jane is antisocial,” Miranda said before I had a chance to respond.

“Are you, Jane?” Guy asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“So what are you reading?” His two-toned eyes hooked mine and for a minute I forgot what I was reading.

“Jane Austen, Jane Austen, Jane Austen. Every summer, the same damned thing,” Miranda said.

“She’s right,” I said. “Every summer I read a book by Jane Austen.”

“Even if she’s read it before. Can you imagine,” Miranda said. “You could use a little variety, Jane.”

“I don’t want variety,” I said.

“That’s news,” Miranda said.

“What do you want, Jane?” Guy asked.

I paused. I didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Constancy,” I said.

Miranda let out a long groan. “Could you be any more boring?” She pulled the brim of her hat farther down. Dolores offered up a plate of cookies from Isabelle’s. “Not me,” Miranda said. “I’m off sugar this week.”

I took a cookie. Guy retrieved a copy of Newsweek from his backpack. He began to read, but not before asking me to “do” his back with sunscreen.

As I massaged his smooth and muscled back, I waited to feel something. I had done this for Max years ago on Nantasket Beach. Then it had made me feel possessive and feminine. I had none of those feelings now and I couldn’t understand it. There was nothing visibly wrong with Guy. I had been alone for a long time. He seemed to like me. Wasn’t it only natural that I should like him back? What if I had truly gone past the point of no return when it came to love and sex? Maybe I’d lost whatever chance I had at love and my spinsterhood was permanent.

Since this idea horrified me, I layered the sunscreen onto Guy’s back with more enthusiasm. He turned his head toward me and smiled. He had good teeth, so straight and white they didn’t look real.

I finished his back and opened my book. I couldn’t concentrate, not because I was aroused by the nearness of Guy, but because I wasn’t and I was sure I should be. But with all of his overt appeal, he didn’t move me.

There was something about this man that I didn’t trust. How could the same man who wanted Miranda ever want me? No one could change that much.

That night Isabelle and I sat on two Adirondack chairs out on her porch. The island restaurants were getting crowded, so we preferred to sit on her deck and eat homemade spaghetti out of soup bowls.

“I can’t believe you came here instead of to the Buffingtons’. You could come here any time,” Isabelle said.

“It’s our ritual,” I said. “And I’m not missing anything. There’s never been a party I couldn’t live without.”

“What about Guy Callow?” Isabelle asked.

“What about him? Do you know him?”

“A little. I heard you were out with him today,” she said.

“You heard wrong. He came to the beach with us. With the whole family. He just showed up on our doorstep this morning. Do you have spies all over the island?”

“Of course,” she said.

“How well do you know Guy?” I asked.

“I knew him when we were at Wellesley.”

“What was he like?”

“Charming.”

“He’s still charming,” I said. Isabelle slurped her spaghetti, then took a sip of her gin and tonic. The lime floated around the edges. She looked up. “What? Do you know something about Guy?”

“Dessert?” she asked.

“Isabelle, tell me.”

“Look, it wouldn’t be right for me to say anything—not now. I think he might be really interested in you. Let’s wait and see.”

“Who told you he was interested in me?” I asked.

“Maddie. She works at the Buffingtons’. She’s Jimmy’s girlfriend. Guy told Glenda.”

“But he only came to the island today.” I thought back. Hadn’t he said that?

“He’s been on the island four days,” Isabelle said. “I brought an apple pie home. You want it with ice cream or without?” She was up and already standing by the door.

“With,” I said.

She disappeared into the house and I sucked up the last of my spaghetti. Of course Guy had every right to come to the island and not come over to visit us.

But what was this besotted act of his? Besotted people usually can’t wait to burst in on their beloved. They don’t wait four days, then amble over, pretending they’ve just arrived. What was he about? Isabelle, and her vague allusions, only made it worse.

I could have tried to convince her to tell me more about Guy, but I knew that once she made up her mind, she wouldn’t say anything more until she thought the time was right.

Chapter 31 An island storm

The rain had been falling hard for days and we were all bored and grumpy. Of everyone, I was the least bothered by the weather because I had my books and the foundation work. I loved my room, especially with the wind and rain beating on the windows. But the bad weather didn’t allow for the tennis, golf, and trips to the beach that usually kept the family out of the house most of the day. We were all holed up together and even I was feeling the strain of it.

What made it worse was that Guy came every day at around lunchtime. I felt that no matter how comfortable I was upstairs, the only polite thing to do was to go down. The thing I didn’t like about Guy was probably the thing my family liked most—his constant prattle. He could talk about anything for hours. The only word that wasn’t in his vocabulary was silence. Sometimes, if I didn’t go downstairs right away, he’d come up to get me. He’d shout from the landing, then I’d hear his feet on the stairs. He had a jaunty way of taking the steps two at a time, and somehow he always caught me unprepared. I might be pulling a shirt over my bra or zipping up my pants, and he’d burst right in as if he had a proprietary interest in me.

I entered the living room just as Miranda said, “I’m so bored, I think I might die of it.” And she did look like she was about to expire from something. She was draped over the sofa like a wet rag.

“I could go out and rent us some movies,” Dolores offered.

Teddy looked up from his paper.

“That’s not a bad idea. Very nice of you to go out in this rain just to get us some movies.”

No one moved.

I took a seat and looked out the window. I liked the island bluster, the dark skies and gusting wind. There was something primordial about the roughness of an island storm. It made me feel like cozying up with a good book. Of course, as anyone would have been quick to point out, just about anything made me feel like cozying up with a good book.

“What did you think of the Buffingtons’ party, Guy?” Miranda asked. That was several days ago and I wondered what made her bring it up now.

“They always have good parties,” Guy said noncommittally.

“And what about Glenda, what do you think of her?”

“She’s on the thin side,” he said. “Makes her look a little pinched.”

“I’ve never heard a man complain about a woman being too thin,” Miranda said. She ran her hand over her