Beach House Rules

6. Charlotte Beach House Rules

Charlotte Beach House Rules

A change in scenery has always been able to help me change my mind. If Bill and I were having a fight or I wasn’t feeling my best, a book club meeting could make me forget all about it. Likewise, when I was climbing the ranks of the financial world, no matter what was going on, when Friday at 5 p.m. hit, I felt lighter somehow. Even if I was working through the weekend, nothing felt as serious or as stressful.

So maybe it shouldn’t have shocked me as much as it did that, while sitting on a bistro stool at the counter, sipping Sancerre and watching Grace—whom I had watched cook dinner on Instagram countless times—cook dinner in real life, as Alice helped Iris with her school clothes and I snacked on grapes, I felt slightly less panicked than had been my status quo the past few days. What everyone was saying about my family, how Bill was faring in prison, why our freaking lawyer had failed to return seven of my calls… well, those were problems for someone else to deal with, another Charlotte on another day.

Or maybe it was just that this felt like the Twilight Zone, like my late-night Instagram friend had stepped through the screen and come to life. And now I was getting to know the real Grace.

She was detailing her split with her husband, how he got offered an amazing job in Tokyo and she wasn’t willing to relocate. She added a splash of wine to the risotto pan, making it hiss, and said, “I think if he had stayed here, we would have stayed together. But the fact that he was dead set on moving and I was dead set on staying just revealed a deeper crack between us, this fissure that neither of us wanted to acknowledge. We didn’t hate each other; we just didn’t care.”

That’s when I had to realize that I wasn’t a different Charlotte. I was the same Charlotte. Tears sprang to my eyes. “But, see, that’s the thing,” I said, my voice cracking embarrassingly. “I love Bill so much. And I just don’t think he could possibly do something like this.”

Grace smiled supportively. “So what does Bill say?”

I bit my lip, my face growing warm. “I don’t know because I haven’t gone to see him.” I was bathing in shame. My eyes filled again, and I looked down into my glass so she wouldn’t see.

“Hey,” she said, “this is tough. There’s no handbook. You’re doing your best.”

“Right. I’m doing my best.” I shook my head, realizing that this half glass of wine might have gone to my head already. Was I seriously sitting here pouring my heart out to a stranger? After days with no one to really talk to about this, I think it just felt good to have someone listen. So I leaned into it. “I think I’m scared that, if he did do this, I’m going to have to look at my part. Like, was he stealing that money because he thought I needed more?” I had relished our big life, sure. I loved our beautiful house and our fancy decorator and how I could offhandedly say things like, “Wouldn’t it be fun to have a restored Defender Ninety?” and one would magically appear a few days later. I loved planning our dream vacations and working them around Iris’s school schedule and my perfect wardrobe. But all those things sort of evolved as we did.

I sighed.

“Either way, this isn’t your fault,” Grace said.

I took a deep breath. It isn’t my fault . That was a relief, actually. “I went to great lengths to let him know that I loved him for him.” My eyes filled. “And I did. I do . I love him so much. I miss him more than I can even say, and it’s only been a few days.”

I trailed off, and Grace leaned over the island toward me. “What is your favorite memory of Bill?”

I was surprised by the question. But I smiled at what instantly popped into my mind. “Bill is, like, a man, you know? He’s serious and a little stoic and other people find him very intimidating. I knew he’d be a good father in all the ways that checked the boxes. He’d provide, he’d show up, he’d love our child.” I had to take a deep breath to keep the wave of feelings from swamping me. “But I had no idea how great he would be with Iris. I remember when we brought her home from the hospital and it was the first time she had really cried and cried, and I was at my wits’ end. And he put on beach music and danced with her all over the house. She loved it.” I paused, the tears swelling in my throat. “And that kind of became their thing.”

Grace reached out and squeezed my hands. “That’s what you’re going to think of,” she said. “In those moments you don’t think you’re going to survive, that you aren’t sure you can trust the man you loved, that’s what you’re going to remember.” She smiled at me. “You’re going to get through it. I promise you.”

She locked eyes with me, and I knew she understood what I was going through.

“You certainly are,” Alice said behind me, alerting me that she was back, meaning Iris wasn’t far behind.

I raised my glass to Grace. “Thank you for the therapy.”

I got up and walked around to her side of the island. “May I use these plates to set the table?” I grabbed a stack of plates from a glass-front cabinet.

“Sure,” Alice said. “I’ll help.”

“Why don’t you relax and let me take care of this?”

Grace held a spoon out for me. “This is the real therapy.”

My mouth watered before I even tasted the risotto. It was complex and at once salty and sweet. It was so decadent I felt lost in it for a full five seconds.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” I said, swallowing reluctantly.

“And it’s all very healthy for you,” she said.

“It’s official. I’ve arrived in the Garden of Eden. This completes the picture.”

Julie walked into the kitchen too, hair wet from either the pool or the ocean or the shower. “Hello, beautiful ladies.” She kissed Alice on the cheek, then turned to smile at me. “Charlotte, I am just so glad you’re here. Glad we could chat through everything.”

I was glad too. On both counts. I knew it was going to take some time to truly be certain I could trust Julie, but I was sure enough for now.

Alice smiled in agreement. She was placing a rattan placemat at each seat—which I took as a sign that she didn’t want to relax—and I put a white plate that seemed to have little fish fins and a tail at each spot. “These are the cutest things I’ve ever seen!” I said.

“Alice’s ex-boyfriend got them for us,” Julie said in a tone that indicated, He’s her ex because she’s crazy!

I hadn’t imagined Alice with a boyfriend. I was pretty set on her widow persona, which was ridiculous. Of course a woman could have a second act. I thought about what Iris had said earlier. A fourth act? Surely she was exaggerating. There was no way this gorgeous forty-five-year-old had lost three husbands in her young life so far. And if she had… well, that was just terribly sad. A little ripple of something did pass over me. Was that suspicion? I chastised myself. I was basically in the same position right now. Everyone and their brother was out in the world saying that I knew, I must have known, that I was in on Bill’s scheme. And I decidedly was not —if there even was a scheme in the first place. So I was the last person in the world who should be judging anyone.

“Tell us about this boyfriend!” I said, wiggling my eyebrows, trying to seem like we were teenagers gossiping, not that I was wondering about Alice’s secret past and if said boyfriend was actually Father Matthew at church, as Juniper Shores Socialite had predicted. But I didn’t want them to know how closely I followed her page.

Alice smiled at me, but I could see the sadness behind her eyes. “There might have been something once, but he’s gone. Moved away.”

“Because someone broke his heart,” Grace said matter-of-factly.

I wondered about the hole Alice had dug herself into. She was responsible for all of these people’s fates. How could she even be free to date? What if she decided to remarry? I planned on this being a very temporary situation for us, so I wasn’t worried for myself. I just couldn’t imagine what pressure she must feel and how her own life must be tarnished in the pursuit of taking care of everyone else.

Iris bounded down the stairs in a flowing spaghetti-strap maxi dress that was a little too big. But she wore it well. She wore everything well, that awkward stage of two years ago fully behind her. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, and in the light streaming through the windows, she was both her future and her past. A little girl collecting seashells on the beach and a grown woman about to be out on her own. I didn’t want this hardship for her. I wanted her to stay as young and carefree as possible for as long as possible. And I knew that this situation would steal some of that from her. I put the last plate down, walked to the foot of the stairs, and wrapped her in a hug, kissing her cheek. She smelled like a mixture of the sunscreen she wore every day and some sort of earthy-yet-expensive lotion that I was certain came out of our new shared bathroom. It smelled like Alice, like this house, like peace.

“You okay?” I asked.

Before she could answer, a teenage boy who I assumed must be Merit trotted down the stairs behind us, rushing by and grabbing a grape out of the bowl on the counter. He popped it in his mouth, turned, and smiled a smile that I knew had left a trail of longing girls in its wake. “Hey,” he said, obviously to my daughter, not even noticing me.

Oh, crap, I thought. I had unwittingly put my daughter under the same roof as the high school heartthrob. I knew all about Merit from Juniper Shores Socialite, damn her. She talked about my husband and my family, but even still, the gossip she spewed was too delicious to look away. I wondered who she was.

“Hey,” Iris said back. Merit walked over to the table and took a seat. Iris wriggled out of my embrace and whispered, “I think I’m going to like it here,” as she walked to take the seat beside him.

As we all made our way to the table, Alice introduced me to Julie’s three precious girls, Brenna, Jamie, and Audrey, and Grace introduced me to Merit’s sister, Emma. She was in seventh grade, just two years younger than Iris, and I hoped they would get along well. Again, I was planning for this to be a very, very impermanent situation.

As everyone sat down, Alice said, “I thought this might be the right time for us to go over the beach house rules.” I sat up a little straighter at that. The beach house rules? Well, okay. I guessed it made sense for a house to have rules. If I was going to be living here, I should know how things worked.

“Since you call your mom ‘Mom,’ Iris, you can call me ‘Mama Grace,’ and Julie prefers ‘Mommy,’?” Grace said.

My stomach lurched. Iris’s face, now locked on mine, was white. But before I could get myself too worked up, Merit burst out laughing, and Alice, Grace, and Julie followed suit.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he said. “I couldn’t keep it in any longer.” He pointed at Iris. “Your face!”

My heart was returning to a normal beat.

“She’s just teasing you,” Alice confirmed. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing weird!”

“There’s one that’s a little weird,” Julie said under her breath, as she helped herself to a large portion of risotto and scooped smaller portions onto her daughters’ plates. Those babies are going to eat risotto? I thought. But there was no whining, no fussing, no complaining. Wow. Maybe these house rules worked.

“A little weird?” Iris asked.

“It’s not weird, and it’s really not hard at all once you get used to it,” Alice said, which was when the hair on the back of my neck stood up. “But at dinnertime we all put our cell phones over on the front hall table at the charging station.”

“That’s great,” I said, feeling relieved. “Then dinnertime is sacred, and no one is tempted to look at his or her phone.”

“She isn’t finished,” Merit said.

“We don’t retrieve our phones until the next morning,” Alice added.

“What?” Iris practically spat. “But that’s when everything happens! My Snap is fire at night. That’s, like, half my social life. I can’t just ignore it.”

She was flushed, and I could tell she was panicking. I was sort of panicking too. How would it even be possible to not have our phones at night? I thought, idiotically, How will I keep up with Growing with Grace ’s reels? But, well, now that I was sitting across the table from her, I guessed that was kind of a moot point. “Sweetheart,” I said soothingly, “let’s just hear Alice out.”

“Well, that’s really it,” Alice said. “The average American child won’t have the attention span to read a book by the time he or she is thirty-five. I won’t contribute to that.”

That really was horrifying. And I had read all those studies about social media contributing to unhappiness and depression in girls. Maybe I just hadn’t been brave enough to take Iris’s phone; I guess I’d reasoned that, if she didn’t have a phone, she couldn’t communicate and how would she have any friends? And wouldn’t having no friends contribute to unhappiness and depression too?

“Okay,” I said. “But, just playing devil’s advocate, since I’m looking for a job, I might need to return emails or take phone calls in the evenings.”

“There is a phone in every room,” Alice said. “It used to be a B it was the phone. I would never hear the end of it.

“I already mentioned the vegan thing,” Grace said.

I wondered if being vegan was unhealthy. Didn’t children need a lot of protein? But then I looked at six-foot-tall, sixteen-year-old Merit with his shiny hair and perfect skin and ultra-white teeth, and I decided that he was getting everything he needed. And nothing that he didn’t, which was probably more important.

“If every meal tastes like this,” I said, “I think we’re on board with anything.”

“And we have homework time immediately after dinner,” Alice said. “And all the adults are around to help with their assigned subject if any of the kids need help.”

Iris didn’t balk at that one.

“And then it’s family beach time!” Brenna exclaimed.

She really was so cute. They all were.

“Forced family fun!” Merit said, matching her enthusiasm.

Alice held up her fingers. “The others are easy: everyone inside the beach house is treated like family.”

Brenna piped up: “What happens in the beach house stays in the beach house!”

We all laughed at that. But it did make me wonder: Were there secrets to be kept here?

“Wet hair and sandy feet are highly encouraged,” Julie said, smiling.

“And when you make a snack, make extra,” Grace added. “Coffee too.”

These were sweet rules. Warm and fuzzy rules that lulled me into contentment, that reminded me of childhood summers. Even so, my mind began to wander to Bill, to wonder how he was holding up. I decided that I would definitely go see him tomorrow. I had to. I needed answers. For a brief moment, I let myself sink down into my delusion: maybe he wasn’t guilty after all.