Page 131 of The Book of Summer

“Jesus H., that woman. Because of course she’s sunning herself in a rainstorm.”

“Is she okay?” Evan asks, inspecting the seascape’s frame. “Because she seems a little—”

“Off her rocker? Batshit insane? Psychoneurotic?”

“More zealous than usual,” Evan decides on.

“You’re very polite. Cissy is not in a good place.” Bess wags a finger. “Thanks, in part, to your father.”

“My dad?”

“You know he dumped her, right?”

“I’m not sure he had a choice.”

“Oh, there’s always a choice.”

The words sound biting, though Bess does not mean them to be. This is about Cissy and Chappy and their AARP love affair. Meanwhile Evan looks like someone just criticized his throwing arm. Bess would know, because she’s criticized it before.

“Evan.”

She rests a hand on his forearm. He glances down, warily.

“Thank you,” she says. “For showing me that letter.”

“You’re not mad? Uh, and, I didn’t mean anything by it. It just seemed like something you should have.”

“Of course.” Bess clears her throat but still it’s closing up. “And I’m not mad at all. How could I be? Though you should’ve given it to me the day of my wedding. Or told me how you felt when we talked that afternoon. It would’ve saved heaps of grief, not to mention buckets of cash.”

Bess is trying to joke, but it comes out all wrong. She doesn’t give two shits about the money.

“I’m kidding,” she says, smiling awkwardly, no doubt looking like someone trying to hold in a fart. “I would’ve married him anyway.”

Would she have? Most likely. Bess was no Cissy Codman, but she’d inherited a few drips of the woman’s stubbornness. It’d be hard not to, with that strong a streak.

“Seriously, though,” Bess says.

Evan has turned away from her and is more or less ripping the painting from the wall. But if he leaves a hole, no matter. Only the hermit crabs will care.

“It was incredibly sweet and genuine and maybe if…”

Bess doesn’t finish the thought.Can’tfinish the thought. Maybes are for moping and for regrets. And Bess doesn’t believe in any of that.

“You’re a great guy, Evan Mayhew.” She thwacks him on the back, like he’s just caught a forty-yard pass. “Every girl should have a high school boyfriend like you.”

“Thanks,” Evan mumbles, then tears the seascape down.

He leans it up against the table as he glowers, refusing to look Bess’s way.

“Where are the other paintings?” he asks, so obviously done with this conversation it makes Bess’s stomach dive. “The foyer? I remember something in the library.”

“Wait.” Although he is finished, Bess is not ready for him to leave, even if it’s only into some other room. “I want to show you something.”

She goes over to one of the boxes.

“Check this out,” Bess says, and returns to Evan, paper in hand. “Remember the articles I told you about? The ones Grandma Ruby kept, written by that Harriet Rutter person?”

“Rutter?” Evan’s eyebrows lift.

---