Page 47 of Bad Summer People
Robert stopped at Neptune, right in front of Susan Steinhagen’s house. He got off his bike and went around to the side entrance. He hadn’t seen that Rachel was trailing him. She stepped off her bike, put her kickstand down (though it seemed a useless endeavor against the wind), and followed him. The lights in Susan’s house were off—maybe she was sleeping already? She couldn’t be anywhere but home in this storm.
“Robert!” she called after him. He was at the door, shaking it. “Robert! What are you doing? Why are you at Susan’s house?”
He didn’t hear her; the wind was too loud. She saw him kick the door violently, once, then twice, his tennis sneaker cracking against the damp wood. Nothing happened. Rachel was shocked. For the first time all night, she felt as though she might be in danger. Just then, a figure whirred past her on a bike—an older woman in an Adidas tracksuit riding away down the boardwalk toward the bay, with what looked to be a notebook in her basket. Susan. She must have gone out the front door. Robert saw her, too, and then ran past Rachel, finally noticing her, his face set in a grim scowl.
“Robert, what’s happening?” Rachel shouted at him as he rode down Neptune after Susan. She quickly got her bike, which was miraculously still standing, and pedaled off behind him.
He was nearly fifty yards in front of her at this point. She couldn’t see Susan ahead of him; she’d disappeared in the fog. There were no lights on Neptune, and the rain was blinding. Rachel, drunk, was riding in an S formation, trying hard to stay steady. The boardwalk was more than three feet off the ground. If you landed at the wrong angle, you could easily break your neck.
“Stay straight, stay straight, stay straight,” Rachel mumbled to herself as she followed Robert toward the bay. She was halfway between Lighthouse and Harbor on Neptune when she saw something that stopped her. A pair of men and a pair of women, standing in what looked to be a face-off.
She watched as Robert pulled up behind them, pausing on his bike. Where had Susan gone? She heard shouting, but because of the wind, she couldn’t make out who was saying what. She rode closer before stopping. She could see a bright orange shirt. Sam. And a tall figure standing close to him. Jason. The other two were smaller, with large hoods covering their heads. “Jason!” she heard one of them shout. It was Lauren. Lauren and Jen.
Rachel was drunk, sure, but not drunk enough to want to be part of this scene. She inched her bike around in a circle and took off toward the ocean. Riding was difficult; the wind was pushing her back into the commotion. She stood up on her pedals like she used to do as a kid, trying to get more leverage as she circled them around. She thought about how her dad had taught her to ride a two-wheeler on these same boardwalks. He’d hold the back of the bike and run with her as she pedaled, pedaled, pedaled. “I’ve got you!” he’d shout as she went, letting go as she skidded away. “I’ve got you!”
There was another hard gust, and she felt a strong smack against her face—she’d been hit by a flying branch. She careened to the side of the boardwalk, surprised and off-balance, her bike teetering on the edge. From a distance, she heard a loud shriek. Then she went over, headfirst into the brush, her bike landing on top of her with a thud.
PART VLabor Day Weekend
24Lauren Parker
Lauren Parker was exhausted. She’d been packing up the house for the last two days, throwing out junk that had accumulated over the summer, sorting clothes and bathing suits and flip-flops and tennis gear, separating Salcombe things from New York City things. As usual, Jason was no help at all. Thank goodness for Silvia.
Lauren hated Labor Day. She hated the organizing and the end-of-summer-ness, and the feeling that the party was finally over. The kids started Braeburn next week, and they would leave the island for good tomorrow. They weren’t planning on coming back for any weekends this fall. That they’d stayed this long after the accident was a small miracle, and they’d only done it because Arlo and Amelie had epic meltdowns at the idea of missing out on the end-of-season fun.
Lauren was sitting in the audience at the annual Labor Day Extravaganza, a talent show for kids that was held in the big back room of the yacht club. Both Arlo and Amelie were set to perform—Arlo and his friend Rhenn, Mollie Davidson’s son, were going to do a magic trick routine (which Lauren had ordered to the tune of a hundred dollars from Amazon), and Amelie and Myrna Metzner were singing “Let It Go.” It was a sweet Salcombe tradition, but this year, the whole thing felt off. Lauren was sitting in a plastic chair, shifting uncomfortably, waiting for Jason to bring her a cold glass of chardonnay. The camp counselors had set up the small stage for the show, rigging a makeshift curtain out of two Sunfish sails. Lauren’s peers were scattered among the audience. Lisa andEmily were sitting toward the front of the room, heads bent together, in matching tan sack dresses. Beth and Jeanette were close to the door, Beth in a black V neck and ripped jeans, and Jeanette inappropriately attired in a blue skintight top, her cleavage out for all the dads to notice. Absent from the usual trio was Jessica Leavitt. The Leavitts had left for the city immediately after Danny was interviewed by the police, not even bothering to pack up their house. Lauren had seen them dragging their wagon down to the ferry on Broadway that afternoon, Danny and Rose glumly following behind, upset to miss the last weeks of camp.
Jason slid into the chair next to Lauren, handing her the oaky chardonnay from the yacht club bar. She wouldn’t miss the lackluster wine selection here, that was for sure. Jason had a deep late-summer tan, and he smelled like aftershave. Lauren gave him a once-over and wasn’t repulsed. Progress.
Lauren saw Jen and Sam walk in through the back entrance. They were holding hands. Jen was in her favorite white shirtdress, her red lipstick striking, and Sam was in a white linen button-down. They were a good-looking pair. Lauren waved them over, and they navigated the chairs, sitting directly in front of them. Jason and Sam nodded at each other cordially.
Jen reached over to Lauren and squeezed her shoulder as the lights flashed on and off, signaling the start of the show. Normally, it kicked off with a group song, the town anthem, but today, there was a screech of feedback before Steve Pond, the yacht club’s commodore, got up on the stage, microphone in hand. Jen glanced back at Lauren quickly, frowning.
“Welcome, folks, welcome,” said Steve. His pearly veneers looked neon in the stage lights. “I wanted to thank everyone for coming. The children are backstage and are so excited to perform for you tonight. They’ve been working hard on their adorable acts.” Someone in the audience sneezed loudly. “We’re always sad to see summer end,” Steve continued. His voice was scratchy; Lauren thought someone should hand him a glass of water. “This year, though, it’s particularly bittersweet.”
Lauren’s ears got hot. She placed a frozen smile on her face in case anyone was looking at her.
“That’s because we’ve lost one of our own, someone near and dear to us who was a big part of the Salcombe community and yacht club family.”
Lauren noticed Rachel slip in through the side door. She was in jeans and a ruffled white top, with dangly earrings that Lauren thought looked cheap.
“We will all miss Susan Steinhagen enormously,” said Steve. The microphone screeched with more feedback, causing many in the crowd to cover their ears. “She dedicated her life to making the tennis program in Salcombe a resounding success, and she and her late husband, Garry, were such a delight to have in our orbit. Susan’s passing has hit us all very hard—she was a personal friend of mine and Marie’s, and we still are in shock over it.”
People nodded. Lauren saw some of the older women in Susan’s friendship group wiping away tears. Rachel had made her way over to Beth and Jeanette, claiming a seat next to them.
“Now, I’d love to do a special rendition of the Salcombe song, dedicated to Susan. I expect you all to cheer as loudly as possible! We’ve had the children practice. Here they come,” said Steve, motioning to the teenage counselors to bring out the little ones.
About forty kids, aged three to twelve, walked out onto the stage, dressed in various costumes. Lauren saw Arlo next to Rhenn, both in tuxes and black top hats, clutching the magician’s wands and scarves. Amelie was holding hands with Myrna, the two of them in matching blueFrozendresses.
“One, two, three!” shouted the head counselor, Jessie Longeran, a sixteen-year-old with a streak of pink running through her curly red hair.
“S-A-L-C-O-M-B-E, that’s the place we love to be-eee,” they all sang in unison.
Lauren looked over at Jason, who was singing along. So was Sam. This stupid place.
“S-A-L-C-O-M-B-E, season’s over, now we’re sorry, that we have to say goodbye, pack our bags and heave a sigh, leave old Salcombe with a cheer—”
Here the crowd roared all together, screaming and yelling and applauding. Lauren stood but didn’t join in.
