Page 69 of The Book of Summer

“Yeah. Sure. He’s a swell chap, your brother.”

“‘Aswell chap’?” Ruby scoffed. “Is that all you want to say for yourself?”

“Why do I get the impression I’ve committed some undocumented, heretofore unknown Cliff House crime?”

“I don’t know,” Ruby said. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Geez, Rubes, are you cheesed at me or something? If so, spill it. No use making me guess. I’ll get it wrong. I promise.”

“Do you like him?” she asked. “My brother? Topper.”

“Of course you meant Topper. Wouldn’t be P.J. now, would it? Never mind he’s already married to the matte and muted Mary.”

“Just answer the question, Hattie.”

“Topper’s keen as can be. What gives, hon? You’re angry as a cat.”

“Is this a relationship?”

Ruby pictured Topper flipping Hattie over, jamming himself into the small space between her round and lifted cheeks. The girls at school discussed all manner of tips and tricks to prevent pregnancy or the loss of virginity, but no one had ever mentioned anything like that.

“Are you in it for real?” Ruby asked, trying desperately not to cry. “Or is it merely some big game for you? The girl from the Continent humoring the local Yank?”

“Is he my steady? Is that it?” Hattie asked, an amused smile playing at her lips. “Oh, sugar, we’re nothing like that and, believe me, it suits your brother just fine. It’s all in good fun.”

“Fun?” Ruby snorted. “Yeah, looks like a real blast.”

With that, she chucked her toothbrush into the sink.

“Well, Hattie, I’m gonna hit the percales. Have a good night. Sweet dreams. And don’t forget to shut off the lights.”

29

Wednesday Evening

Bess tells Evan about the pregnancy—every sordid detail.

It all happened so fast, she explains. One minute Bess was, if not happily married, at least unobjectionably attached. The next minute she was finding out about hookers and approximately ninety seconds after that, moving into a hastily secured rental in an undesirable part of town. By the time Bess realized her missed periods were a result of a baby and not stress, her life had already changed. She did tell her ex. A bad decision, in the end.

No, Bess hasn’t been all that nauseated, just a touch “off” from time to time, no more irritable or sick to her stomach than might be expected given the prostitutes and divorce and rancid smell outside her new apartment.

And what, exactly, does Bess plan to do about the unexpected twist? Well, she missed an appointment this afternoon. If not for the Cissy problem, Bess would be in San Francisco and, as of this very moment, not pregnant anymore. So time is getting short, for Cliff House and for Bess.

“You seem completely unfazed by this revelation,” Bess says after unspooling it all.

Is she glad for Evan’s blank expression? Or is she concerned?

“I shouldn’t have led with the whores,” she adds.

Evan shrugs. “Admit it, you like saying the word ‘whore.’” He cracks open a fresh beer. “Let me ask you something. If you planned to end the pregnancy, why’d you tell Brandon? I can only assume he was a total shit about it.”

“Yes,” Bess says with a salty sort of chuckle. “‘A total shit’ is one way to put it.”

“So, why then?” Evan presses. “Why’d you tell him?”

“Oh. Well. It felt like the right thing.”

So Bess hasn’t really told Evan “every sordid detail.”

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