Southampton Spectacular (3 page)

Devon was sixteen now, and this was the summer when all the big things were going to happen. It was the year of her parents’ twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, which would be in August, and Devon was planning to throw them a party. With a slide show and a cake and plenty of charming, slightly-embarrassing-but-mostly-endearing stories she would tell about them. Maybe even some surprise speeches from old friends of theirs if she could make the arrangements in time.

Except that everything would soon go haywire with her parents, starting with Frankie’s Big Ride. And ending, more or less, with the Flight Of The Condor.

This was also the summer when Austin Riley would arrive and cause a stir. Not on purpose; at least not at first. But he was hard to miss. And then as soon as the mess with her father – with both of her parents, actually – seemed under control, Austin would start really trying to get Devon’s attention. Trying and succeeding, in a way that was impossible to ignore.

After that would come the truly crazy stuff.

On the day when it all started, the day of Frankie’s Big Ride, Devon was sitting in a white canvas-back deck chair by the main pool, one finger holding a place in her book. She was trying not to laugh at Nina Westcott, who didn’t notice. Nina was pretending to doze while watching the new boy. This was Austin, though Devon didn't know his name yet. He was doing his morning laps. Next to Nina was Florin Bean, who had one arm over her face to block the sun. Florin was complaining happily about the heat; this was her way of announcing that summer had officially begun.

“It’s not supposed to be this hot in June,” Florin said, peering out briefly from behind her arm. She squinted at Nina, who was lying on a towel with her head turned toward the pool, her blonde hair tucked neatly into a bun, her face covered with a large straw hat wrapped with a pink ribbon that matched her bikini. “Go jump in with him,” Florin said. “Three whole days of this sneaky business. You haven’t even talked to him yet.”

Nina didn’t respond. She remained perfectly still. A moment later, as though moving on its own, one of her slender hands rose slowly from its place on the towel. The hand glided out and found Florin’s thigh. Rested there for a second. Delivered a pinch. Florin yelped and swatted at the hand, which sprang back like a snake and then returned smoothly to it’s resting spot by Nina’s side. From underneath the straw hat with the pink bow, a low whisper: “That’s what you get.”

Florin blew air noisily from her cheeks and put her arm back over her face. “Maybe in late July it could be this hot,” she said, completing her thought. “We should go down to the ocean soon.”

Nina hummed in agreement, but she didn’t move. They were bright, independent girls going into their junior years in high school, Nina and Florin at Groton, Devon at St. Paul’s, and all three of them already had their sights set on one Ivy League college or another. But they weren’t in school now, and summer days were different; they were not likely to get up unless Devon did so first. It had always been this way. Since they were seven years old.

Devon turned her attention to the pool, where the new boy was still swimming his laps. He was cutting through the water with slow, powerful strokes. Devon wondered how long Nina would wait before moving in. None of them knew anything about this boy, but that in itself was fascinating. Going to Southampton was not like going to a movie theater; you didn’t have to wonder who would be sitting next to you at the pool, or who would be standing across the net from you at the Meadow Club. Devon and Nina would always be there, and so would James and Barnes, not to mention old Mr. Bindle and maybe-gay Mr. Mahlmann and dozens of others who seemed as permanent as wall carvings. Anyway, the idea that the new boy might be more interested in Devon than in Nina never crossed her mind. Nina was the undisputed master of flirting; Devon was happy simply to have yet another summer in Southampton, and to be surrounded by good friends. She didn’t worry about what life might have been like if she hadn’t been the daughter of Peter Hall, who loved his little airline business and managed to keep it profitable even when the big carriers were bleeding cash. Or what her personality might have been like without the steady, infinitely patient hand of her mother guiding her through her teenage years. Likewise, she didn’t know what she would have done with her summers if she hadn’t been able to come out to their house on First Neck Lane; if she hadn’t been swimming and eating here at the Beach Club every day; playing tennis at the Meadow Club every afternoon; going to the movies in town and the parties in the houses on Dune Road at night. There was no point in contemplating these things. She was aware that she was lucky, and she appreciated it, but she didn’t fret over the notion that things might one day suddenly start to change.

And of course she had no way of knowing that today was the day.

Even if she had known, what could she have done? All the pieces were in place. Frankie’s Big Ride, or something like it, was bound to have happened sooner or later. The things afterward, too. The sad things and the wonderful things. They were all just waiting there, simmering. Building up to the moment of release.

But that release was not due to occur quite yet. In the Grand Scheme of Events (if such a thing exists), Frankie’s Big Ride was not scheduled to take off until 11:20 AM, and it was still only 10:30 in the morning. And the Flight Of The Condor wouldn’t be coming for several weeks. So there was still time for Devon to sit comfortably by the pool at the Beach Club. Time for her to enjoy her nearly perfect life. To listen to Florin complain, to feel the sun on her shoulders, and to watch the new boy swim. Still time for this life that would soon feel so very different.

Florin sat up suddenly, swinging her head around as if someone had thrown water on her. “Jimmy Dunn!” she called, sounding annoyed and happy at the same time. “Put that child down, come over here, and get me an ice cream.” She licked her lips at the thought, then clarified: “Strawberry.”

James Dunn, also sixteen years old, who did not like to be called Jimmy and had explained this to Florin nearly once a week for the last three summers, scoffed loudly without looking in her direction. He had dark, unkempt hair and shadowy eyes to match. He was holding a baby in one arm, and trying unsuccessfully to grab an eleven-year-old who was splashing around in the baby pool while still dressed in tennis whites. Both the baby and the eleven-year-old bore a family resemblance to James – especially in the strong, sharp jaw – but their eyes were clearer and brighter than his. James was not sleeping enough.

“Ned, get out of the pool,” he said to the eleven-year-old. He spoke with the tight, controlled tone of someone who has had to ask too much, too often. “Go change,” he added.

“Not going,” Ned answered cheerfully, and he went on kicking up water with his K-Swiss tennis shoes. The infants and toddlers in the baby pool were delighted, and yelling their approval. “See?” Ned said. “They like it.”

James shook his head. “They’ll still think you’re funny if you’re splashing around with a bathing suit on. Frankie’s going to think it’s okay to soak his shoes.” He held the baby up higher, as if putting Frankie’s delicate sensibilities on display.

Ned giggled. “Frankie’s ten months old,” he said, still splashing. “Frankie doesn’t think anything’s okay or not okay unless we’re talking about a cookie, which is the one thing he knows is good. And he doesn’t wear shoes unless mom’s trying to impress somebody.”

James stayed silent at this. His mother and father were at the other side of the main pool, dozing, having both come home from the clubs sometime after two that morning. He shifted Frankie to his other arm and called to Florin without turning around. “How about you get
yourself
an ice cream,” he said, “and one for me, too. Chocolate on a cone.”

Florin jumped up from her towel, looking as if this were exactly what she had been planning. “On its way,” she chirped, and hurried off up the stairs toward the snack bar.

James’s hung-over parents stirred at the raised sound of their eldest son’s voice, and they made a show of hoisting themselves up onto their elbows. They didn’t look at each other. Mrs. Dunn adjusted her sunglasses on top of her head, and then she peered up at the pool lifeguard on his perch. The boy seemed to have been waiting for this sign. He wound his whistle lariat around one finger and began talking to Mrs. Dunn with an affected air of courtesy. “How are you this morning, Ma’am?”

She leered at him. “I’m
fine
,” she said, trying to speak in a smooth drawl and instead producing a smoke-rattled growl. She rolled slowly over onto her side, away from her husband, while she coughed and cleared her throat. Then she looked up and tried to start the conversation again.

Mr. Dunn, meanwhile, was looking at the woman just to his left, who, like the lifeguard, seemed to have been anticipating an exchange. She was lying close to him, but they didn’t say anything. They only lay there, looking at each other significantly.

James turned away.

Not two feet from the Dunns, Otto Barnes burst from the pool as though being pursued by piranhas. He clambered up onto the edge just inches away from Mr. and Mrs. Dunn, and he shook himself like a dog. James’s parents glared at him without acknowledging each other, but Barnes was oblivious. He grinned broadly and went striding over to Devon and Nina.

“Is it ice cream time?” he said, sounding surprised and excited. “Nina, what do you think? Why don’t you toddle off with Florin and bring me back something?”

Nina spoke without taking the straw hat off her face. “Forget it.”

Barnes pressed on. “What about a little something else, then?” he said. He waited for a second, then tried again. “How about an extra snack, if you know what I mean, something we can – ”

“Excuse me,” Nina said sharply, lifting the straw hat just far enough to glare at him. “Could you step away from me, please? The new guy doesn’t know you’re so – ” She searched for the right phrase. “ –
like this
all the time. He might think I was into you. He might think we were flirting.” She rolled her head slightly, indicating the pool. “I’m on a mission here, haven’t you heard?”

“That’s perfect,” Barnes said brightly, and put his hands up to show just how perfect it was. “I can be your make-him-jealous prop. We can be doing stuff, like in plain view of everybody, and then we can have some big fight, and then –”

But Nina had put her hat back over her face, and now she was making shooing motions at him.

Barnes turned a few degrees to the side, not missing a beat. “So, Devon,” he said, “what about if you and I – ”

He stopped as Devon put a hand up. She didn’t want to be rude, but she also knew from experience that it was essentially impossible to hurt Barnes’s feelings; he sometimes needed to be silenced quickly so that real business could be conducted. “Hold on,” Devon said, putting her book down again and turning to face Nina’s straw hat. “Did you just officially admit to being interested in the new guy?”

Nina paused before answering, and then she reached up and threw her hat dramatically off her face. “No one is very discreet around here,” she said, sitting up and trying to look upset.

“He’s swimming,” Devon said, nodding at the pool. “He can’t hear a thing.”

Nina let out a breath and tried to maintain her pouting look.

“Let’s have it,” Devon said, prodding her.

Nina gave in. “His name is Austin,” she said, standing quickly and pulling up a chair so that she could speak to Devon in lower tones. “I don’t know what his dad does, but – ”

“Austin what,” Devon interrupted.

Nina looked confused.

“What’s his last name?” Devon asked.

Nina shrugged and shook her head, as though Devon had demanded to know the boy’s favorite TV show. “Anyway, he’s going to be a freshman at Dartmouth next year – ”

“Where'd he come from? Where’s he been?”

“Year abroad last year,” Nina answered quickly, pleased to have been ready for this question. “And even though his family’s been coming out here for years and years, he’s always been doing extra school or internships or whatever all this time. This is his first real summer off since he was eleven or something. We probably just don’t remember him – we would have been nine, right? Anyway, he’s old money,” Nina finished triumphantly.

Devon cocked her head to one side. “Which means?”

Barnes, who had been standing between them and the pool like a privacy screen while they talked, hooted with laughter. “Means he’s a little low on funds at the moment,” he said.

Nina looked insulted. “It certainly does
not
,” she said angrily. “My dad said his dad was part – ”

“That his dad was part of the Woolworth family, which is true,” Barnes finished for her. He turned serious. “My dad said the same thing. He also said that this Austin kid is smart as hell, and that he’s going to be some kind of all-star varsity recruit at Dartmouth, and that he already has an internship locked up at a hot-stuff New York brokerage for next summer. Which is why he gets to take this summer off.” Barnes raised his eyebrows at Nina and gave her a critical look. “Not that you’d ask your dad about any of that stuff, because you don’t actually care what he’s
like
. But no, his family doesn’t have any money left. Or not much, anyway.”