Page 50 of Bad Summer People
They were trash-talking now, on Emily’s beautiful back deck, having last-night-of-summer negronis. The kids were all in bed post–Labor Day Extravaganza, and Lisa had ridden over in the darkness, enjoying the cool air as she pedaled her bike. She was worried about Brian and his fund. She felt like he wasn’t telling her everything.
“Did you see Rachel there?” Emily asked. Emily was the kinder of the two; Lisa wasn’t mean, but she could be startlingly direct. “I hadn’t seen her since we lost in the doubles tournament. Has she been sick or something?”
“I’m not sure,” said Lisa. “I spoke with her when Susan died, but not really since then. I figured she had to go off island for something, like a wedding maybe.”
“And then tonight she sat with Beth and Jeanette, which is weird,” added Emily. “I wonder if she’s embarrassed about tennis. Listen, I wanted to win, too, but they beat us! It happens. They played well.”
“Speaking of Jen and Lauren, have you noticed how close they seem lately? I never thought they werereallyfriends,” said Lisa.
“Who knows what’s going on with them,” said Emily. “At least Sam seems like he’s doing better. I saw him and Jen holding hands.”
Paul wandered out onto the deck holding a glass of wine. Lisa had never understood Emily and Paul’s relationship—he’d always struck her as a bit of a blowhard, and Emily was so sweet. But you never knew what went on in other people’s marriages, Lisa supposed.
“Honey, can you get us some cheese and fruit?” asked Emily, smiling at him.
He was in a black Vetements hoodie, which Lisa knew was sold out everywhere. He dutifully nodded and went inside to fetch them a spread. The moon was high, and the Great South Bay was black and still. The sound of crickets surrounded the women, who sat together calmly, notspeaking. Paul’s motorboat, which he’d namedDepth—a mix of his family’s names (Dash,Emily,Paul,Hayden), but also because he thought he was deep—was knocking lightly against their private dock.
“Over the winter, I try not to forget how special this place is,” said Lisa. She felt stressed. Maybe she’d up her mushroom dose a bit tonight. “To another great summer,” she said, holding her orangey-red negroni for Emily to toast.
“I’m glad we have each other,” said Emily with a wink. “Everyone else is nuts.”
26Rachel Woolf
Rachel Woolf’s left ankle was killing her. It was swollen and bruised and ugly, and she could barely put any weight on it. She hadn’t gone to the doctor for obvious reasons, but she was almost certain it was sprained, which was highly inconvenient, not to mention embarrassing. Nothing worse than a gimpy lady, hobbling around, showing her age. For the past two weeks, she’d been holed up in her house, watching Netflix and working, avoiding everyone. She was almost certain no one had even noticed. After the first couple of days, refusing tennis matches via text, claiming her tennis elbow was acting up, she hadn’t been invited anywhere. It was the end of the summer, and so events—parties, drinks, dinners—were happening. But no one thought to include her.
Rachel felt like such a reject. She never should have told Sam about Jen and Jason. She thought about it every few minutes, continually feeling the physical pain of regret. Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. She’d just beensoupset with Jen and Lauren for beating her, and the only thing at her disposal had been that weapon. But now she was friendless. What an idiot she’d been.
The worst part was that both couples appeared to be doing better than ever. She’d seen them all over each other at the Labor Day Extravaganza, shoving their happiness in her face. She hadn’t stayed through the end of the show—the spectacle had made her sick. She’d left without telling anyone, hiding her limp as best as she could.
She was home now, sipping a glass of cabernet on her screened-in porch. Her house felt very empty lately. It made her miss her family.Should she move closer to her sisters? Nothing was tethering her to New York; she could work remotely from anywhere. She’d met every available man in NYC, none of whom had stuck.
A chilled breeze came in through the open window. Fall was almost here. Rachel wrapped herself in her cashmere throw. If only she had someone to sit with on cold nights. She was leaving Salcombe tomorrow for the city and would be back some weekends in September and October. Then she’d close the house by Halloween. She had a vague unease about, well, everything. She was missing key moments that only Jason, Sam, Jen, Lauren, and Robert could fill in. (Robert knew she’d been there, but the others did not, and she intended to keep it that way.) And she wasn’t speaking to any of them.
She looked down at her phone. No texts. Nothing. Maybe she should reach out to Lauren. Lauren was right to be mad—all summer, Rachel had withheld the fact that Jason was cheating on her. She’d been busy dangling nuggets to Sam, and Lauren hadn’t much crossed her mind. But had it really been Rachel’s place to tell her? She pressed Lauren’s name in her contacts to compose a text:
Hi!
The exclamation point was too chipper. She started again.
Hi, Lauren. I hope you’re well!
Nope, too formal. It sounded like a work email.
Hey, I hope you’re well. I’m sorry for what happened. I should have told you, but I didn’t know how. I hope you’ll forgive me! I’d love to see you in the city this fall.
She pressed Send before she could stop herself.
She thought back to that night. Would she ever know what really happened? After she’d fallen off the boardwalk, she’d stayed still for aminute, trying to assess her injuries, not wanting to bring attention to herself. She’d eventually moved the bike from on top of her and attempted to stand, pain shooting through her ankle as she did. She’d then felt two strong arms under hers, lifting her up onto the boardwalk. It was Robert. He jumped off the side and wrestled her bike out of the shrubs, climbing back up with it.
“What are you doing here? Are you okay?”
“Just my ankle. I think it’s sprained.”
“Okay, let’s get you home. I’ll walk you and then come back and get your bike.”
Rachel was wary—she still didn’t know why he’d been looking for Susan or where Susan was now. But she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t move easily, and the boardwalks were treacherously slippery.
They’d walked in silence, Robert with his arm firmly around her waist, supporting her as she’d stepped gingerly. In another situation, she’d have thrilled at his touch, but nothing felt right about that night. They were nearly back to her home on Marine before she’d said anything.
