Page 47 of Summer Light on Nantucket

“Really?” Blythe sank onto a chair at the table. “Scarlett is sick?”

The two boys laughed like a pair of chimps.

Teddy crowed. “Mom, she’s not sick, she’ssick!”

“It’s like slang. It means she’s excellent.” Azey was impressed with himself as translator.

“Scarlett’s banned for two days, too,” Teddy said.

Blythe’s phone buzzed. She pulled it from her pocket, hoping to see Aaden’s number.

It was the tennis pro, Zane. She answered the phone.

“Hello, Mrs. Benedict. The reason I’m calling,” Zane said, “is to fill you in on the incident involving Teddy at the yacht club.”

“Yes. Teddy is here now.”

“Good. He’ll have told you that he was the one who caused the altercation. He pushed Jack Winchester. Hard. Jack fell back against a table and hit his arm. It’s not broken, but it will be bruised for a while. One of our waitstaff brought him ice wrapped in a napkin. Then Jack slugged Teddy in the face. Again, nothing broken, no broken nose. We gave him ice in a napkin, too. But our rule is, as the boys know, no fighting on yacht club property. Both boys have been suspended from the club for two days.”

“But is that fair? Teddy was protecting Scarlett—” She interrupted herself, glancing at Teddy. “What is Scarlett’s last name?”

“August,” Teddy said.

“Scarlett August?” Weird name.

Zane continued. “We have a no-fighting policy. It’s only for two days, and it’s a good thing to happen at the beginning of the summer. Maybe this will be a warning example to other children.”

“I understand,” Blythe said. She wondered what would have happened if Bob had taken the call.

Zane said goodbye. Blythe studied the two boys, trying to decide what to say.

“That was Zane Lewis. He basically confirmed what you told me, and you are banned from the club for two days.”

Again, the phone. This time it was Mrs. August. Blythe held her hand up to silence the boys, wanting to hear her son called a hero for protecting Scarlett.

The other woman sounded angry. “Mrs. Benedict? I’m Mrs. August, Scarlett’s mother. I’m calling because of that very disturbing situation your son caused.”

“Oh, it wasn’t Teddy who bullied Scarlett—”

“I’m quite aware of what your son did. My husband and I have been extremely careful to teach Scarlett that violence is never theanswer. Scarlett has been taught to take care of herself and to be strong and to ignore other children’s silly remarks. Your son interfered. He acted with anger and violence. He made an embarrassing scene at the yacht club. Scarlett is still in tears.”

Blythe felt like she’d just fallen down Alice in Wonderland’s rabbit hole. “Mrs. August. My son was not trying to start a fight. He was pushing the other boy away so that he couldn’t continue harassing your daughter. It was Jack Winchester who hit my son, and Teddy has a bloody nose. You should be calling Jack Winchester’s mother.”

“Suzanna Winchester is a dear friend,” Mrs. August said. “I’ve spoken with her and she assured me that your son started the fight.”

Blythe didn’t know whether to laugh or curse. “Mrs.August, thank you so much for calling. I’m so glad you’ve raised such a composed daughter. And I’m sorry you were given the wrong information about the incident. Goodbye.” She ended the call before Mrs. August, who obviously felt it would be disturbing to give her first name, could say anything else.

“Sit down and eat some cookies,” Blythe told the two boys. “We need to have a little talk.”

Blythe knew her son hated her “little talks.” They weren’t exactly the high point of her life, either. She knew that a person in the guilty seat tended to exaggerate all facts in his or her own favor. The wisest advice she’d ever been given was to make certain that whatever punishment was given, it wouldn’t be as bad for the supervising parent as for the child. She decided to ban all screen privileges for two days. That meant he still had all of the island to explore. At night, he could read a real book.

She sat at the kitchen table with her son and his friend and pointed out the difference between the way Teddy had described pushing Jack Winchester and the way the tennis pro had. She reminded him to tell the truth. She listened to him moan and mutter when she laid out his punishment, and she wanted to moan and mutter herself.

Finally, she let the boys leave, and they shot out of the house as if escaping a dragon.

That left her alone with her thoughts. Her stomach was boiling with anger and frustration—it wasn’tfairthat Scarlett’s mother was a good friend of Jack’s mother! But Blythe had told her children so many times that life wasn’t fair. She had to accept that and remind Teddy, when he returned, to stay away from Scarlett and Jack.

Next, she settled in to more serious thoughts. Was Teddy developing a tendency toward violence now that he was flooded with male hormones? Boys his age fought—wanted to fight. She’d taught middle school. She’d read the books. She’d heard the lectures. She’d actually stopped a few fights herself when she was substitute teaching. One of the first rules she’d learned was not to personally step in to end the fight. That would be a good way to get hit herself.

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