Page 7 of Our Last Vineyard Summer

A mouse skittered across the baseboard, disappearing behind the stove. Virgie screamed and jumped about like her feet were on fire. It was something no one told you about summer houses: you never knew what kind of critters you’d find when you unlocked the house for theseason. In the middle of the third pancake, Aggie and Louisa yawned their way into the kitchen, hair scarves still tied about their heads from sleep.

“What is she doing?” Louisa said, disgusted at the sight of Betsy lying on her stomach on the wood.

“Probably licking the floor,” Aggie sighed.

“She’s catching a mouse, and it’s more than I can say about you two sleeping beauties. I need help in the house today.”

“We have a mouse?” Aggie lifted her feet up onto the seat of the wooden chair.

Louisa rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “We always have mice at the beginning of summer, and in July will come the ants. Isn’t summer grand?”

Virgie ignored them, putting three plates out on the table and delivering each of her daughters a couple of pancakes, pouring herself tea after from the singing kettle.

“No butter?” Aggie opened the fridge.

“No syrup either. We’ll go to Cronig’s this morning, and everyone can pick what they want to eat for breakfast this week.” It seemed like a good idea, Virgie thought. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with their complaints that she was making the wrong thing.

The doorbell rang, which made Betsy yell for everyone to shush: “The mouse is never going to come out if we’re all talking.”

“No one cares about some dumb little mouse,” Louisa said.

Virgie inhaled. “Louisa, go answer the door.”

“But I’m in my pajamas.”

“We’re all in our pajamas. It’s probably the milkman.”

Virgie turned off the griddle. There was talking at the front, a man’s voice, and Louisa bounded into the kitchen. “It’s the Edgartown Police. He wants to talk to you.”

“Me?” Virgie rinsed the mixing bowl, running a sponge along the sides. Turning off the faucet, she wrapped her robe tighter around herwaist. Police made her nervous; she’d once been pulled over by an officer in Washington for making an illegal left turn, and he’d leaned into the car and reached for a lock of her hair, caressing it between his fingers.

“Good morning, Chief,” Virgie said, approaching the front door.

He held his brimmed hat at his waist, nodding. “Ma’am.” His car was parked on the street, the lights flashing as though he’d pulled someone over in a traffic stop. “I got a call from your husband this morning.”

Charlie had called the police? “Oh?” she said. “Whatever for?”

The police chief was younger than she imagined, maybe about her age. “He said you took his children here? That you left without his permission.”

They weren’thischildren; the girls weretheirchildren, and last she checked, she was the only one who cared a hood’s wink about them, too. “I assure you, Chief Watters, that this is my summer house, and my husband knew I was bringing the children. I wrote him a note and left it on the kitchen counter myself.”

He leaned against the doorjamb. “You’re telling me he knew you were coming, but he’s telling me he didn’t. Which is it?”

“You know, Officer,” she took on the voice of a woman who put her husband first. She was that woman, so she wasn’t even faking it. “Charlie is a United States senator, and he’s often under a lot of pressure. Sometimes he’s up all night before a big vote. It’s quite possible he’s a bit delirious.”

“He sounded quite rested,” the officer said.

Jerk, she thought, watching as the milk truck pulled behind the cop car. “You see, Charlie has several campaign events this month, but I wanted the girls to swim and sail. To get out of that overheated swamp. Have you ever been to the Capitol in summer?”

“I haven’t.”

“Well, it’s dreadful. The air is so thick you can barely breathe. Anyway, please, let me call my husband and figure this out.”

The officer’s broad chest filled. “Listen, I don’t want to get involved in a domestic dispute—”

“There is no domestic dispute,” she cut him off, smiling, then stepped out onto the stoop to clear out some old leaves. “I can assure you that I did not kidnap my own children.”

His car lights were flashing. Every neighbor on the block would be asking her what had happened. “Let me give you a piece of advice, ma’am.” The officer backed down a step. “A good woman speaks her mind without knocking her house down. Do you know what I mean by that?”

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