5
I take a long, slow breath as I try to drum up the right response. I can’t have Ash picking up on any tension between us, but I also don’t want Hannah to think I’m unnerved by her ruse.
“Well, whatever,” I say, with a little wave of my hand. “We’ll catch up more later. I need to grab my bathing suit.”
I leave without giving her a chance to respond, but the second I start up the path, I kick myself for having gotten into that exchange in the first place. What’s the point in trying to show someone like Hannah that I’m wise to her? It’s hardly going to chase her off the property, and any obvious game playing could make my in-laws think less of me. What’s the old expression? Never wrestle with a pig. You both get dirty and the pig enjoys it.
The smartest strategy is for me to cut her a wide berth and pray that Nick sees through her soon enough.
A rustling stirs me from my thoughts, and I glance up to see Claire emerging from the glade of cloud boxwoods. She’s dressed today in a casual, salmon-colored tunic dress that she’s belted around the waist and paired with the sneakers she always wears for gardening. A camera dangles from her neck.
“Is everything all right, darling?”
Clearly, I’m wearing my consternation on my face.
“Um, yes, fine. I was just trying to remember something.”
“Have you had a nice day so far?” she asks, stepping closer. Even in bright daylight, her skin looks creamy and naturally youthful, like she’s in her fifties rather than early seventies.
“Absolutely. Before lunch I took a walk down to the stream, which was heavenly—though I hear I should be keeping an eye out for coyotes.”
“That’s what our neighbor says. Frankly, I’ve been more concerned about hunters this year. Even though our property’s posted, we’ve spotted them sneaking through our woods.”
“How annoying.” I nod toward her camera. “Gabe mentioned last week that you might be taking on a new landscaping job. Does that mean you’re considering coming out of retirement?”
“Yes, I’m working on a small project but not for commission. Friends of ours in Palm Beach want to give a jungle garden feel to their property, and I said I would create the design as a favor because I absolutely love doing those. I had to fly down a couple of weeks ago to take a closer look at their property, but it gave me the chance to check on our house. While we’re on the subject of gardens,” she adds, “I promised Hannah a tour at four today. I know you’ve been on plenty before but please join us if you feel like it.”
I flash a smile, despite how much the mention of Hannah’s name irritates me. “Thank you, Claire, but I’m sure it will be more fun for her if the tour’s a private one.”
“That’s sweet of you to say, Summer. And she does seem very eager to learn.”
I wish I could tell Claire that Hannah’s simply trying to ingratiate herself, but knowing how catty it would sound, I instead wish her good-bye and promise to see her later. After changing into my swimsuit at the cottage, I return to the pool area and end up playing Marco Polo with Henry, Gabe, and eventually Nick. By the last round, I’m wondering what kind of sadist invented this game.
“One more game?” Henry begs as I hoist myself out of the pool.
“Tomorrow, okay, sweetie?” I tell him. “I’m too waterlogged today. Why don’t you read for a while?”
“Hey, Henry,” Nick calls out. “Dive for coins with me, okay?”
He eagerly agrees, and I give Nick a grateful thumbs-up. As I do, I notice that Hannah’s sunbathing facedown at the far end of the pool, near Blake and Wendy. I’m glad she’s at the other end. This is as close as I hope to get to her for the rest of the week.
I collapse onto a lounge chair next to Gabe, who has a slightly damp Nordic thriller splayed on his torso. He rolls over onto his side, rests a hand on my stomach, and stares at me intently.
“If we have a little boy, do you mind naming him that?” he asks.
“Nick? Won’t your other brothers mind?”
“No, Marco. Marco Polo.”
“Very funny,” I say, grinning. I open my mouth, intending to tell him that I suspect Wendy’s pregnant—but realize that if it’s true, Blake will want to surprise Gabe with the news himself.
“What were you going to say?”
“Just that I’m excited about us trying for a baby this winter.”
“Me, too.”
I appreciate the fact that Gabe hasn’t pushed to start before then, as keen as he is for Henry to have a sibling. He’s been really supportive of my career and knows I want to see my first short play staged and start on a second before I get pregnant.
“In fact,” he adds, “how about some practice this afternoon? My dad’s taking Henry to the farmers’ market in a little while.”
I glance at my phone on the wrought-iron table. It’s two forty-five, and I’d promised myself I’d return to my play this afternoon, but Gabe and I so rarely have the chance for afternoon sex anymore.
“What a good idea. Why don’t I go make myself beautiful?” I say.
“That will take all of four seconds. I’ll see Dad and Henry off, then meet you there.”
Back at the cottage, I shower quickly, and straighten the bedding from this morning. When Gabe arrives, I hear him bound up the stairs.
“Very beautiful indeed,” he says, running his eyes over my body.
Though it’s warm outside, the bedroom feels cool, inviting. We make love at a languorous pace, and afterward, as Gabe dozes, I watch the filmy white curtains flutter in the breeze and let the rest of the world recede for a while.
Eventually, I leave him sleeping, change into a sundress, and tiptoe downstairs. Blake promised he’d play tennis with Henry after he returned from the farmers’ market, so we have a bit more downtime. I slide out a bottle of rosé that Gabe stashed in the fridge, set it in a bucket of ice, and grab a can of nuts from the lightly stocked pantry. As I’m setting them out on the antique wooden trunk that serves as a coffee table, I hear him start the shower.
How nice for Gabe and me to have a little time for ourselves. Though I appreciate that our life is rich with family and friends, I always feel my marriage is at its strongest when we make time for the two of us, whether it’s going to wine tastings, or seeing plays, which Gabe has embraced with gusto, or even simply watching Netflix thrillers at home.
My attention is caught by the muted sounds of two female voices coming from outside, not far from the patio. Glancing out the French doors, I spot Claire and Hannah, their backs to me, meandering alongside one of the gardens on this part of the property. I tug the cream-colored muslin drapes closed, but I don’t back away from the window. Instead, I practically hug the fabric with my body as I listen.
“Absolutely dazzling,” Hannah exclaims. They’re moving closer, and before long their voices are so distinct I realize they’re by the border garden that runs along the edge of the cottage patio. “And what are these called?”
“Here we have mostly foxgloves, alliums, and artemisias,” Claire explains. “But I added some iris and ornamental chartreuse Japanese forest grasses to make the mix more interesting.”