Page 63 of Roses, Pearls, and Hot Summer Nights
Her sons were gorgeous, too.
Dina noticed the other woman and squeezed my arm. “That’s Rosalind, their mother and my daughter-in-law. She’s a sweet girl. Sorry, lady. Woman. Anyway, I wish she had written her own diaries. Lord knows, she could have used them.”
Her diaries. I caught my breath. “I left them in New York.”
“Don’t worry, I grabbed them. I already tucked them into my house here.” I glanced at the building, surprised she didn’t live with them and instead kept her own space on the property. “I put them in your room. Welcome to our beach, Alatheia. I hate the beach, and they all get that from me, but their parents love this place. Because of them, we come, we put on our show here, and we try to relax.” She sighed. “At my age, I’m supposed to care about the birds. All old ladies do, and I haven’t gotten a single book on birds. We’re supposed to know the names of this bird and that bird, and be able to point them out if they stop at a feeder. Me? I don’t care about the damn birds, Alatheia. AmI defunct? I don’t care if I am. I don’t want to grow things in a garden; no tomatoes for me. I want to go to the theatre and visit art galleries. I like long conversations with people, shopping, and having late lunches with mimosas. Of course, all that said, right at the moment I’m enjoying watching my grandchildren, as I should be.”
“Now, look.” She clapped her hands, smiling at the building as if it brought her genuine joy. “This is my house. They do what they want in the main house, and I don’t interfere. Much.” She winked at me, as if we shared a secret. “The other house is the guest house, but my reign doesn’t extend there, either. You are my guest in this house, and this is your room. The kitchen is over there, and my room is upstairs. Make yourself at home.”
With that, she left me standing in her main entrance, blinking in mild shock.Why did I think this was a small house?It wasn’t, the sprawling place obviously big enough for multiple bedrooms, not to mention parlors and who knew what else. It all seemed too big, too much for me, so I simply went toward the room she said was mine.
I stopped in the doorway, my hand going to my throat as if to protect myself from the sheer size of the room. The king sized bed in the center of the room had been draped in blues and whites. The white paint on the walls matched the bed, and four dressers were set around the space as well as a seat at the end of the bed. The curtains were closed, but they were also blue and white, matching the rest of the decor. When I pulled aside the fabric gently to peek outside, my breath caught in my throat. The glittering water of the ocean battered the sunshine covered beach, and I couldn’t believe all of it was just outside my window.
“Excuse me, miss? I’m going to leave your bag right here.” The driver set my bag carefully in the doorway before backing up a step.
“Oh, thank you.” Honestly, I didn’t know the proper manners for the situation—should I tip the guy?—so I simply said, “And thank you for getting us here safely.”
He smiled, the warmth in his eyes suggesting I made the right call. “You’re welcome. Enjoy your stay here. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
I blew out a breath and glanced outside again.Okay. I am in the Hamptons with the Lents.After I put my stuff away, I could get to work for Dina, since that was why she brought me. If I just focused on the work, I could make it through this …
What did she mean when she said Rosalind should have written her own diaries?
18
August 1st1966
Dear Readers
I am so sorry it has been so long since I wrote, but what a month it has been! If I’m honest, it’s all because of the Lents. The rest of it seems very status quo: my uncle, the bratty children, their mother. I try not to think about the pain, because it might swallow me whole if I give name to the grief which still haunts my every step. But … the Lents!
It is hot today,but it isn’t raining, which means I can take the terrible twins out of the house. You would think they might melt away like that witch at the cinema from the slightest touch of water, the way they carry on so. When it rains, I can’t get them to budge outdoors. Today, we went to the Park, but the Lents don’t meet me there anymore. Their mother, she would tell my uncle if she caught me talking to them, and I can’t have that. He is mostly leaving me alone now, and I much prefer that to the alternative.
DidI mention the most wonderful news? If I forgot, it is because I am in love! The phrase itself seems magical enough to cherish, like a charm I would hide away in a box somewhere, but I am not in love once, nay, I am in love with four men. I don’t know how to handle the situation exactly, nor can I strum up the proper shame or resistance to the sensation. Logic demands, I cannot be in love with all four of them. It’s simply not done.
I don’t knowhow I would choose, though, if asked to pick just one. Nathaniel is so serious, yet I alone have the ability to tease forth his laughter. He holds my hand while we walk or touches the small of my back, and it thrills me every time. His southern accent is thicker than his brothers’, wrapping around me with the smokey temptation of whiskey. Robert is the adventurous one. He met me alone one day then took me to the top of such a tall building! I would swear we could see the entire world from up there, and the Park looked like a postage stamp of green in the center of all of it. Victor is so hard-working and always happy, his smiles so easy and contagious. He loves music and dancing, and says we should try something new every day. Last but not least is Ed, the brother who goes so quiet sometimes, I worry that I bore him. Then suddenly, he’ll hug me tight against him and tell me that I outshine the very stars outside his home in Louisiana.
They always wantto see me, but since they can’t meet me at the Park anymore, I drop the kids off before I visit with them all over the city. They don’t love the need for subterfuge, because they want to pick me up at home. I try to picture how that could go with my Uncle, but I can’t imagine it would go well.
Until next time,
D
AUGUST 29TH1966
Warmer weather today, but I hardly noticed as I walked home, my hand firmly in Ed’s. He insisted on walking me home tonight. I thought he was quiet, but although he keeps his thoughts to himself, when he speaks, he means what he says. It makes it matter more, strangely enough. Tonight, he insisted he was walking me home.
My uncle is busy,since he’s been meeting with Mr. Yamasaki’s team all the time. I suppose the fact that he is busy should give me more time to myself, but it never seems to work out that way. Instead, it seems when he has more to do, his attention is more rapt. What is even more odd is how he became absolutely obsessed with John Lennon’s apology for his remarks about the Beatles being more popular than Jesus.
Honestly,I wouldn’t have known that he knew who the Beatles were.
He is angry a lot.
This morninghe pulled my hair. Maybe that is a strange nothing thing to mention, but he was upset, ranting about John Lennon and then glass … A second later, he yanked on my hair so hard, tears threatened. I’m not sure what to do, if anything, about it.
Still,today Ed walked me home, and I loved the attention. I would take some hair pulling if it meant more moments like that. He waited, watching until I walked inside my house. He said earlier that he would be speaking to Nathaniel soon, because there were things about them he wanted me to understand. I can’t think of anything they could possibly tell me that would in the slightest hamper my regard for them.
I teared up,though, because I don’t know what I’m going to do. It seems likely they will ask me to choose which of them I like best, or perhaps which of them likes me the most. What will I do if they try to make me choose? I would be happy with any of them, I know I would, but I fear I would be equally miserable without any one of them; I want them all.
