Page 51 of Summer Light on Nantucket

When he answered, she almost hung up. But she said, “Hi, Harry. It’s Blythe Benedict. Do you still need a middle school teacher for the coming year?”

—

That evening, Blythe invited Celeste over for a drink. They sat on the back porch, sipping icy cold vodka tonics, listening to the kids coming in and out. Blythe told Celeste about her return to teaching, and Celeste applauded.

“This is just the right time,” Celeste told her. “Your chicks are learning to be self-sufficient, and you can return to a job you love. I’ll bet you’re a wonderful teacher.”

Blythe glowed with pleasure. She was so grateful for Celeste’s love and approval.

“Thank you, Celeste.” She sipped her drink. “And how areyou?”

“How am I?” Celeste seemed surprised. “I’m just fine, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re wonderful, but I worry because you’re alone in your big house.”

Celeste found a spot on her sleeve that needed ironing out with her fingertips.

Blythe waited.

Finally, Celeste cleared her throat and met Blythe’s eyes. “Please don’t worry. In the summer I’m never alone. In the off-season, I spend time with friends and serve on several town boards. Kate checks in on me every day in the off-season, and I am grateful, although I realize I’m another ‘Must Do’ on Kate’s busy list of obligations.”

“Oh, Celeste, Kate loves you.”

“I know she loves me.” Celeste spoke curtly. “But I know she considers me a responsibility, and that is very close to being a burden.”

“Maybe she’ll relax when Bob and Teri come to stay for two weeks,” Blythe suggested.

Celeste laughed. “Maybeshe’llrelax.Iwon’t. Bob and Teri absolutelyswarmover me, insisting on taking me out to dinner, or worse, Teri wants to cook dinner at home, and Lord, she’s a terrible cook. At some point, Bob will take me aside for a ‘little talk’ to remind me to put away the pictures on the hallway wall that have Bob grinning proudly with you and your newest baby or during a holiday. Bob tells me the pictures hurt Teri’s feelings.”

This was the moment, Blythe knew, when she could mention seeing Teri kissing another man that day in Boston. That moment had been so brief, and yet so enormous. Should Blythe have a private talk with Bob, or ask for a meeting with both of them? Should Blythe tell Celeste and ask her advice? But no, she didn’t want to gossip, even though Blythe’s worries scrolled out into fears that if Teri left Bob, the children would be even more hurt, certainly more confused.

Celeste was laughing. “I’m absolutely not taking the photos down. I always remind him that the children would be upset if I did.”

Blythe was glad she hadn’t mentioned Teri’s kiss. She changed the subject. “You’ve also got a boyfriend. Tell me about him.”

Celeste shifted in her chair. “Oh, he’s really just a summer friend. Remember when you were young? I always lost my heart to some summer boy who vanished in September.”

Intrigued, Blythe leaned forward. “Have you lost your heart to Roland?”

“Oh, heavens, no. I enjoy going out with him. But he’s a summer person, and he lives in Florida in the winter. He’s invited me to visit, but I know from the grapevine that he has plenty of girlfriends in Naples.”

Blythe sat back in her chair, slightly confused. “At dinner with the children, you made it sound…more romantic.”

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” Celeste gazed into the distance.

Blythe kept quiet.

Celeste looked down at her hands when she admitted, “The thing is…and this is for your ears only…I do my best to appear active andinterestingto my grandchildren.”

Blythe started to object. “Oh, but you—”

Celeste held up her hand. “Darling Blythe, one of the realities of old age is that I don’t have any illusions. I don’t try to diet because at my age I need a little fat to protect me in case I fall. And I’m certainly not trying to get thin for my summer grand events as I did into my sixties. I’m only trying to stay healthy enough to prevent mylastgrand event.

“I’m speaking honestly now, and you mustn’t contradict me. I dread what will happen when I’m truly ancient and crippled and wrinkled and moving slow as a tortoise, with arthritic fingers like a fairy-tale witch. I might decide not to see the grandchildren then. I don’t want them to remember me like that.”

“I can understand,” Blythe said quietly. “I only hope you know that my children adore you, and they’ll adore you when you’re ninety-nine and an arthritic tortoise.”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Celeste responded. “If I’m lucky.” Before Blythe could react, Celeste continued. “I hope you know how grateful I am that you have so many children.”

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