Chapter Nine #3
By the time we left the beach, I had less than fifty pages left in my book.
Nick, Sage, and I had “floundered” in the ocean for a while (floundering [v]: floating on your stomach in the shallows and letting waves wash over you, which more often than not results in spinning out of control and laughing your ass off), and after that, I collapsed on my towel to read.
Bryce handed out lunches a couple hours later, full of pride.
He’d volunteered to help Peggy pack them this morning.
“Ooh, what’s this?” I started to unwrap the tinfoil as my stomach growled. “Turkey and cheese?”
“Peanut butter and fluff,” he reported.
My appetite squirmed.
“I told Nana you wouldn’t like it,” he whispered. “But she said it was tradition…”
“Don’t worry about it.” I smiled at him. “It looks delicious!”
And then I forced down a sandwich that vividly took me back to puking all over myself at Jenna Randall’s house in third grade. Her mom had made them as an after-school snack; the thick marshmallow spread had turned to cement in my stomach.
But this was Camp Carmichael! I was going to embrace it!
Fortunately, dinner was much better: a huge pasta salad with cherry tomatoes, zucchini, mozzarella, and basil. “What about you, Erica?” Jay asked my stepmother while we ate. “You up for a match tomorrow?”
“Jay, I don’t think Erica plays much tennis anymore,” Beth said, then turned to her sister. “You’re into pickleball now, right?”
Next to me, my dad stifled a snort. Erica did play in Haddonfield’s pickleball league—while modeling cute outfits and swinging monogrammed paddles that various brands sent her—but her inner tennis player loathed it. What kind of sport doesn’t make you sweat?
“I thought you’d never ask,” she told her brother, pointedly ignoring Beth. “Name the time and place…”
I offered to do the dishes later, but I didn’t know what to do with myself once I’d finally started the dishwasher at nine thirty.
Nick, Sage, Charlie, and Luke had said goodbye before they’d headed out to hang with friends, and who could blame them for not inviting me?
They were twenty-six; I was nineteen. Even though I felt exhausted beyond my years, they probably saw me as a kid.
Meanwhile, Maisie and Bryce had hunkered down in their bunk room, and my dad had texted me that he and Erica had gone out for ice cream.
I’ll bring you back some salted caramel! he promised. One of my favorite flavors.
Most of Erica’s family was watching TV together, but after I made myself a cup of tea and stole the remainder of last night’s pie, I retreated to my room.
My footsteps were quick and quiet, but I almost stopped short when I noticed a framed needlepointed canvas.
It was a lakeside landscape—all blues, greens, creams, and grays—featuring a majestic heron.
Peggy’s work, I surmised, but it made me think of Annie. There was nothing more comforting than watching her stitch and sip chamomile tea while we watched a movie together.
I missed her, even though we had spoken today. I’d called after getting back from the beach, and miraculously, Annie herself had picked up her landline. “Annie, hi!” I’d exclaimed from the Carmichaels’ dock, hoping the service wasn’t too spotty. “It’s Olivia!”
“Who?” she replied. “Please speak up; my doctor says I don’t need a hearing aid, but I disagree. I can’t hear anyone when they whisper…”
Meanwhile, her voice came through in broken pieces, so I hung up and called back from my bunk bed. Annie didn’t answer, but Tara did at the nurses’ desk.
“Olivia, darling.” I could hear my grandmother smile once Tara gave her the phone, which made me smile. “How are you?”
I told her all about the beach today, from Nick driving the Boston Whaler across the pond to Maisie and Bryce crabbing to floundering in the ocean to the decades-old cowboy hat Topper always wore on the beach.
I also described how the bright sun made Oyster Pond glimmer like glass. It was unlike anything I’d seen before.
“What a beautiful painting,” Annie remarked.
“Don’t worry, I took a ton of photos,” I replied, knowing she meant picture, not painting. I swallowed. “How was your day?”
“Oh, it was wonderful,” she said dreamily. “Ellen and I…”
My heart sunk at Ellen. Ellen had been one of Annie’s good friends, her longtime golf partner. And while Ellen was still alive and well, she and Annie no longer played golf together. They didn’t even see each other anymore.
Because Ellen didn’t visit.
“…played eighteen holes this morning, then had lunch on the patio and spent the afternoon at the pool.”
“That sounds like the perfect summer day,” I told her. “Did the handsome lifeguard ask about me?”
There was always a handsome lifeguard at the country club.
“He’s too old for you, dearest,” she said. “Eighteen.”
I bit my nail, not wanting to know how old she currently thought I was. “I’m sorry, but I have to go now,” I said a beat later. “Erica’s calling me for dinner.”
Erica was still at the beach.
Annie sighed. “Oh, that woman…”
I ignored the dig. “I’ll call you again soon, Annie. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said. “Bring back a painting, okay?”
“Yes, of course!” I promised. “I will bring back plenty of pictures.”
A moment of silence, and then, “Wonderful, another photo book.”
Her delivery was dry, probably outright rude to anyone else, but I laughed. I laughed even after my grandmother had abruptly hung up on me.
It had just been so long since Annie last made a joke.
And little did she know that I was going to make her the photo book of all photo books.
* * *
When I slipped back into Summer Camp, I thought I was alone…for half a second. “You’re kidding me!” I heard Connor say from behind the bunk room’s closed door. “Mads, he really said that?”
Well, I thought. This complicates things.
My plan had been to change into my pajamas and climb into bed with Annie’s Vineyard memorabilia and my phone. Consulting my list again would help me come up with an actual itinerary…or should I be more spontaneous and just pick a place?
I hesitated knocking until Connor laughed, a confirmation that his conversation wasn’t that serious. “Welcome!” he called, and I was surprised when I opened the door to find him not in his bunk, but casually hanging with Swede on his dog bed.
It would’ve made for a funny photo.
“Keep talking,” I whispered. “I just need to grab a couple things…”
“No, it’s okay.” He tapped his mute button. “Mads can summon her one shred of patience.” He smiled at me. “I see you have pie.”
“Indeed, I do.” I set the mostly empty box down on the dresser so I could quickly find some cozy clothes.
Then I unzipped my backpack and pulled out my folder of Annie’s stuff.
The back of my neck prickled, feeling Connor’s eyes on me.
He’d brought Finn and Teddy to the beach late this afternoon, but I only saw them from afar; their intense Frisbee game, played in Oyster Pond’s shallows, had been serious business.
“Tell Mads I say hi,” I added before retrieving my pie and making my exit.
In the bathroom, I changed into sweats and one of Annie’s worn cashmere sweaters, then went out to the porch. It was secluded and snug, with cushy furniture and an amazing view of the stars. I charted out what I was pretty sure was Orion’s Belt.
Fantastic, I thought upon flipping on the outdoor light to assess the pie leftovers. There was more or less a slice and a half left, but I’d forgotten to grab a fork.
Rookie mistake, Olivia!
What I did next wasn’t ladylike, let alone civilized, but I didn’t care. No one was around, and I really wanted to finish my day with this magical dessert. So I carefully picked up the remaining slice, preparing to bite into it like a piece of pizza…
“That’s certainly one way to eat it,” a voice said out of nowhere, and not only did I drop the pie in surprise, but it crumbled in the box.
Heart shattered, I closed my eyes.
“You seem a little edgy,” Connor noted. “Are you usually edgy?”
“No,” I said, eyes still closed. “I’ve actually been praised for my calm and collected demeanor, especially in high-stress situations.”
“Hmm,” he hummed. “I’m sensing some invisible quotation marks.”
My muscles tensed. “No, I’m paraphrasing,” I said, since my dad, teachers, bookstore boss, and the Elkins staff had all paid me some version of that compliment.
“The direct quotes are much more—” I dropped off when I blinked to see Connor standing front and center on the porch, wearing nothing but a blue towel wrapped around his waist.
He held up his hands, as if I’d suddenly trained a gun at him. “I’m taking a shower!”
Oh, I thought. Right.
The outdoor shower was off to the left, attached to the side of the house. Post-beach I’d shampooed and conditioned in Erica and my dad’s bathroom.
I glanced down at my pie, and Connor took that as a signal that it was safe to move.
“You know I won’t judge you,” he said once inside the wood stall, towel now probably hung on a hook.
I heard him turn the faucet, officially committed to a cold shower.
“If you eat that pie with your hands, there will be zero judgment on my end.”
Already licking raspberry off my fingertips, I rolled my eyes. “Well, in that case…” I almost choked on a bite of crust when I saw steam rising from the shower. The water was hot?
Not only did that make a lot of sense, but it also made me feel like a total idiot.
Of course it’s hot, Olivia! the snarky voice in my head said. The not-at-all-recent invention of pipes makes it entirely possible…
Cheeks warming, I debated whether or not to sneak inside the house; it was a little awkward sitting here while Connor lathered himself with body wash three yards away, but my phone chiming distracted me.
Finally hit the front of the line, my dad had texted. They’re out of salted caramel. “Lotsa Dough” sound like a solid plan B?
Thank you, I typed back. But I devoured any and all remnants of mixed berry pie, so that’ll tide me over!
My dad: Topper called dibs on those.
Me: Oh shit.
Connor: “I’ll be back out in a sec!”
“What?” I looked up to see Connor back on the porch, once again shirtless and running a hand through his still dripping hair. It looked darker when wet, more red than blond.
“I’ll be right back,” he rephrased. “We can hang out.”
Hang out? I thought. You have energy to hang out?
I mean, he and Finn had broken out their lacrosse sticks to play catch after dinner. How was he not exhausted?
“Okay,” I said, wishing my muscles would unwind. “Sure.” I rolled back my shoulders. “Let’s hang out.”