Page 89 of Surfside Sisters

“I hope it’s been a good surprise.”

“I think it has.” In one quick move, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then opened her car door and hurried to her house.

—

From her chair in the living room, Eloise asked, “Did you have a nice time?”

“It was great,” Keely answered, her mind on other things. Keely picked up her phone, collapsed on the sofa, and scrolled through the messages.

From Sebastian:Dad’s doing well. They’re keeping him here one more night. Home tomorrow, we hope. Maybe to rehab clinic on Cape for him. Isabelle’s here. I’m taking care of Mom. We’ll be at the nearest Marriott tonight. I’ll call tomorrow.

From Sally:Hello, ma cherie, how’s it coming with the new book? Want to send me and Juan a few chapters?

From Janine:I loved meeting your Gray at the gala tonight. Your dress was smashing and he is hot! We were totally buzzing about him. Do tell all!

—

In her bedroom, as she slid out of her high heels and silk dress, her mind spun like a roulette wheel, binary, black or red, two different worlds. New York, Sally and Juan, her new book, Gray. Nantucket, Sebastian and Isabelle, Mr. Maxwell, her mother. She was unsettled and confused. What Gray had said about the Maxwell family and her obsession with them was perceptive and true. Wasn’t it? But her love for Sebastian was separate from her infatuation with the Maxwell family. Wasn’t it?

She had admired Gray tonight. He was unexpectedly cool, not at all unsettled to hear her say she loved Sebastian. Why didn’t he say goodbye and fly back to the city?

Why was she thinking about Gray at all?

She needed to drink lots of water and take a good long sleep.

“So,” Keely said, returning to the living room and plopping down on the sofa with her legs stretched out on a pillow. “Tonight was fabulous. An open bar, scallops wrapped in bacon, caviar, boned chicken drumsticks in honey and—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Keely. I don’t want to hear about the menu. At least not yet. Who else was there and what were they wearing? How did you get on with Gray? Did you have a good time?”

Eloise had actually clicked off the television, giving Keely her full attention.

“I had a nice time with Gray. He is a true old-fashioned gentleman.Andhe’s going to take you and me to dinner tomorrow night at Topper’s.”

“Really? That’s extravagant.” For a moment, Eloise seemed to shrivel up again, back into her depression. “Are you sure you want me to go? I don’t know what I’ll wear and I certainly don’t know what I’ll have to contribute to the conversation.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Mom! We’re hardly going to discuss the latest UN resolution. Gray is a very nice person. He’s a doctor. He’ll have a lot in common with you. I promise, you’ll like him and he’ll like you.” Keely stood up. “I’m going to bed now. I’ve got to write tomorrow.”

—

All that day, Keely stayed in her bedroom, in her T-shirt and boxer shorts, writing and tossing back cup after cup of coffee. She was wound tight, and once she got started, her focus was entirely on her new book. She reread and rewrote the first three chapters, wanting them to be perfect, knowing they couldn’t be perfect until the entire book was finished.

It was a relief when evening came and she could shower and dress and coax her mother into preparing for their dinner out. Sebastian phoned once, to say that the hospital was keeping their father for another night, but not to worry, and that he was staying with his mother while Isabelle flew home to her own family.

Eloise allowed Keely to put a slight bit of makeup on her face. Lipstick, light eyeliner, blush. The style the hairdresser had given Eloise was becoming, slightly longer and bouncier than when she was working. Keely’s mother seemed pleasantly surprised.

Gray arrived, completely swoon-worthy in his navy blazer and white ducks. As he helped the women into the car, Eloise quickly mouthed “wow” to Keely.

The chat was light and easy on the drive out. When they were seated at a table at Topper’s with drinks and orders taken, Gray said to Eloise, “Keely tells me you’re a nurse at the local hospital.”

Eloise looked down. “Well, I was. I’ve retired now.”

“Did you happen to know David Vanbrack?”

Eloise lit up. “Of course I did. He was our only surgeon here for about thirty years. How did you know him?”

“He was a guest lecturer in med school one year. He was a great advocate for pediatric surgical instruments. He used to make rough sketches of the Ballenger sponge forceps and the Metzenbaum dissecting scissors, before they were actually designed and utilized. He would get so worked up talking about them that he’d storm out of the lecture hall down to his office and phone one of the many hospital directors he tormented in those days.”

“Yes, he was an emotional man,” Eloise agreed, nodding. “I worked with him often on difficult births. He really hated C-sections. He had all the latest statistics on the tip of his tongue. Too many unnecessary C-sections were given in the United States. He would roar that while he was getting ready to help a child being born with forceps. He had the most remarkable forearms.”

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