Page 76 of The Castaways
“Okay, I promise.”
Her wheels were spinning! Friday morning she went to the store before anyone else was awake. While the kids were at camp, Delilah made chicken salad and a pan of her roasted asiago potatoes. She made cucumber-coconut soup and a bowl of corn and chive salad with pine nuts. Then she cleaned out the refrigerator; there were Ziplocs of old pizza and half-empty containers of eggplant parmesan from the farm market. In the very back she found a leaking container of strawberries covered with fuzzy green mold—the very same strawberries the kids had picked at the farm on the day Tess and Greg died.
Once the refrigerator sparkled, Delilah moved into her bedroom. She made her and Jeffrey’s bed with clean sheets; she plumped the pillows. Then she cleaned off the top of her dresser. It was safe to say the top of her dresser had not been cleaned since Barney was born. Delilah liked messy surfaces. She liked leaving bits and pieces of her frantic life all over the place—The New Yorkeropened to an Alice Munro story, an ad for Sergio Rossi shoes ripped out ofVogue,a recipe for gazpacho, a picture that Drew had painted, a pair of dangly earrings, anArrested DevelopmentDVD, her hot pink thong, her birth control pills, a photograph of the boys dressed as pirates on theEndeavor,a gift certificate to the Languedoc, her gold pass to the Chicken Box. Delilah was proud to display these reminders of her personality; she was glad to be too busy to put everything back where it belonged. But now she swept up all the bits and pieces and hid them away. Then she dusted the top of her dresser and waxed it with Pledge. All that sat on the dresser’s surface was a fresh white doily and her wooden jewelry box, closed.
She sat on the edge of her perfectly made bed. This room no longer looked like her bedroom. She pulled an overnight bag from the closet and packed a few things for her and a few things for each of the boys, just in case. Pajamas, toothbrush, change of clothes. It was just a movie, but what you learned when you lived on an island was, you never knew.
Her wheels were spinning!
She left a note for Jeffrey—at least, it was sort of a note—and went to get the kids from camp. They took the 2:30 Island Air flight. Drew and Barney had flown on the eight-seater Cessnas dozens of times, but it was more fun with friends. The kids were slaphappy; Delilah probably should have told them to settle down for the sake of the other passengers, but she hadn’t seen them this happy in a long time. It heartened her, and she would not squelch it.
She picked up the rental car, a Plymouth Voyager. A minivan. Delilah groaned inwardly, but the kids each claimed a captain’s chair. They were happy.
They were in Hyannis and it was liberating. Thirty miles of water were separated Delilah and the kids from everyone else, and though it technically took only fifteen minutes to traverse the gap, it represented psychological freedom. Delilah cranked the AC and slipped in the kids’ favorite disk ofHigh School Musical,Buckcherry, Smash Mouth, and good old Bob Seger. The kids had skipped lunch, they clamored, and so Delilah pulled into the drive-through at McDonald’s and it was Happy Meals all around, and a huge Diet Coke for Delilah.
The Cineplex of their summertimeVunderkidstradition was in Pembroke, south of Boston. It was the very same Cineplex that Tess’s brother used to manage before he moved to Attleboro to be closer to his kids. It was perfect. Delilah bought popcorn with extra butter, bucket-sized 7-Ups, nachos with melted cheese and shriveled jalapenos, a soft pretzel with mustard, a package of red Twizzlers, a package of Raisinets. This, she decided, would be dinner.
They munched and slurped. The kids were engrossed in the movie, their faces shiny with butter. They laughed; they cheered. Vunderkids! Delilah did not watch the movie; she watched the kids watching the movie. Delilah’s wheels were spinning, but the kids were carefree. Delilah checked her watch. It was six-ten, six-twenty, six forty-nine. Phoebe’s benefit started in ten minutes, and Delilah would not be there. Delilah was in an alternate universe, where she was set free from her usual circumstances. It felt good to be away; it feltgreat. She did not think about Tess, Greg, Andrea, the Chief, Jeffrey, April Peck, the Begonia, Thom and Faith, or her own horrible lack of discretion and judgment, her tragic mistake caused by love and attraction that were forbidden and profane, because she was living in the moment. She was at the movie with her children. She wanted to stay in the dark theater with her kids cheering forever.
When the credits rolled, Delilah filled with dread. She checked her watch. They had plenty of time to make it back to Hyannis for the last flight. Delilah made the kids use the bathroom and wash their hands and faces with soap. Then they piled into the car, humming theVunderkidstheme song.
“Well?” Delilah said, in her best gung-ho camp counselor voice. “What did you think?”
Yes, they had loved it. Yes she was the best mom-slash-auntie in the whole wide world!
“I can’t believe it’s over,” Chloe lamented.
Delilah agreed. It had gone too fast. She had only begun to breathe like a normal person. The thought of going back to Nantucket and of having to attend a cocktail party weighed her down. She would skip the party, she decided, and incur Phoebe’s wrath.
It was nearly dark outside. After Delilah had been on the highway for ten minutes, the chatter in the back quieted. Delilah did not want to go home yet. She racked her brain. How could they prolong this trip? What could they do? Delilah spied a billboard for a Friendly’s ice-cream parlor at the next exit. Could she in good conscience buy the kids ice cream after plying them with so much grease and sugar at the theater?
“Hey,” she said. “Does anyone want to stop for hot fudge sundaes?”
There was no answer. Delilah checked her mirror, then turned around to double-check. All four kids were asleep.
“Hey!” she said.
No one moved.
She did not think, and the not-thinking felt good. She turned herself around on the highway and headed west.
PHOEBE
She arrived back on the savannah at five o’clock. She had been there all day with her clipboard and her checklist and her skill at tying knots in the slick silver ribbon attached to the iridescent pearl-colored balloons. Was everything in order? Everything was in order. Flooring had been laid over the scrub grass and a tent was erected over the flooring. Once it was dusk and the tent was illuminated, it would indeed look like a party far out in the wilds of the African plains. The savannah was eerily beautiful, a 92-acre parcel of grassland with a few gnarled but majestic trees. Sankaty Head Lighthouse and a thin strip of ocean were visible beyond.
The caterers were setting up; the bartender polished glasses. Phoebe had her hair done in a twist. She was wearing a silver silk Anjali Kumar dress and a funky necklace of silver rope with silver and clear beads. She was wearing silver flats, out of respect for the savannah itself. Phoebe was nervous. She had actually held her prescription of valium in her palm and rattled it, wondering what to do. Take one? Last summer it would have been unthinkable to attend any social event without taking two valiums or preferably three, but last summer, and the six summers before, nothing had been expected of her. Tonight she had an announcement to make.
Fifteen minutes before the guests were to arrive, Jennifer handed Phoebe a glass of champagne. Just one sip, Phoebe thought. One sip would taste good.
Jennifer smiled at Phoebe. She was about to say something flattering. Jennifer, for whatever reason, thought Phoebe was fabulous—despite her eight-year hiatus in the netherworld—and Jennifer’s faith in her gave her faith in herself. This night was going to be a watershed for Phoebe.
“First of all,” Jennifer said, “thanks for helping. The party looks beautiful.”
“It was nothing,” Phoebe said. She meant this. Pulling the party together had been a layup. But Phoebe newly appreciated her gift for organizing this kind of thing. She had impeccable taste, and no detail escaped her.
“What you’re doing for your friends is so amazing and generous,” Jennifer said.
“Well…” Phoebe said. “I’m just sorry you didn’t know them. They were amazing and generous themselves.” Tears welled up, and she blotted the corners of her eyes with a cocktail napkin. “Okay, thiscannothappen when I’m making my speech.”
