Page 162 of The Book of Summer

“You were the one who insisted,” Sam pointed out. “The builders warned us that the timeline was too slim, that even a few hours of inclement weather could derail the whole thing.”

Ruby glared at her husband over the top of her sunglasses.

“Not helpful,” she said.

Suddenly an orb of yellow frenzy flashed in Ruby’s periphery.

“Cissy!” Ruby barked, scuttling across the bricks and wood. “Put that down.”

The three-year-old was right then dropping rocks into the gaping hole in their yard.

“Oh good grief,” Ruby said, and hoisted Cissy up against her waist. “You want to help, don’t you? Finish this pool yourself. I know what you’re thinking, you darling scamp.”

That was so like Cissy. She’d shown them exactly who she was, and straightaway. So independent, utterly take charge. Why, just that morning and out of the clear blue, Cissy took it upon herself to fold the laundry. It mostly involved slinging everything into a heap in her bureau, but the thought was there.

“You’re a cute bug, aren’t you?” Ruby said, and kissed her soft head. “Though a buzzy one.”

Cissy squirmed to break free, right on time.

Lord, Ruby loved her little spitfire, but the get-up-and-go really wore a woman out. Sometimes there was a mighty fine line between vivacity and being a real pill.

She released Cissy to the ground and looked back at her husband. It was hard to believe that something so on the move could bind two people together in one place. When Sam showed up the year before, quite sheepish and from the oblivion, he took one gander at Cissy’s round cheeks and that sassy sapphire gaze and knew at once he could never leave.

“Hey, whatcha got there, baby girl?” Ruby heard her husband ask.

“Box!” Cissy said, and crinkled something in cellophane. “Secrets!”

Ruby took three rapid strides forward and swiped the box from Cissy’s hand. She chuckled. “Secrets.” Or, rather, cigarettes. An ancient, emptied-out package unearthed by the workers. Ruby turned it over. Gauloises, Hattie’s favorite brand. Ruby gave a watery smile of remembrance, of regret. They’d really fouled it up, hadn’t they?

Though she still viewed Hattie’s article as inexcusable, ultimately it was not unforgivable. And so Ruby had extended the olive branch, sending Hattie a birth announcement when Cissy arrived.

Mrs. Ruby Young Packard announces the birth of her daughter, Caroline Sarah Young Packard, on November 20, at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston.

Ruby wasn’t looking for a gift, but she didn’t even get a response.

Ruby sent more letters over the years, all unanswered. She even invited Hattie to the “Salute to Summer” cocktail soirée they were holding that very night. They were raising money for the old sailors’ home, and Hattie loved a good charity case. Plus, Ruby wanted to introduce her to Sam’s pal, an honest-to-God congressman in the U.S. House of Representatives. John Kennedy was handsome as the devil and miraculously unattached. Ruby could tell he was a good mama’s boy, not to mention Sam said he planned to run for governor! The kid was going places.

“Kennedy,” Sam said with a laugh when Ruby broached the topic weeks before. “Hattie Rutter is too ambitious for the likes of Jack. He has big plans and needs a wife without too many plans of her own. Hattie would just get in his way.”

Ruby didn’t agree, but it hardly mattered, as Hattie obviously didn’t plan to show that night or ever again. In the end, Ruby told herself it was for the best. They should leave the summer of 1941 where it belonged: in a trophy case on the highest and prettiest shelf.

***

“You look stunning,” Sam said.

Ruby stepped out of her dressing room and into the light. She had on a gown of deep blue crepe, two daring gaps running from beneath her arms all the way down to her waist. As she walked, the accordion-pleated skirt skimmed across the floor. It was all a tad grand and chichi for Cliff House, but this was a benefit and Ruby always did her best to look the part.

“Why, thank you,” she said, and took a small curtsy. “Mind helping me with my jewels?”

She walked toward the blue velvet box on the dresser. Inside was a necklace of diamonds and emeralds, a present from Sam on their anniversary several weeks before. The gift was a mite over-the-top, as he’d missed quite a few. He’d spend the rest of his life trying to make up for what he did. That is, when he wasn’t picking himself up after yet another fall.

“Of course I’ll help,” Sam said, and approached the dresser. “It’d be my honor.”

As he went for the box, his hands shook. He struggled with the clasp.

Damn it, Sam was drunk already. Ruby smelled the whiskey on him but told herself all was fine. Sam had always been a drinker and he seemed in a dandy mood. She hoped he could hold it together for the rest of the night.

“Here you go, my darling,” he said, fingers clammy against the back of her neck.

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