Beachcombers. Part 38

Abbie followed, her heart triple-timing in her chest.

"h.e.l.lo, Big Guy." In the front hall, Sydney performed an admirably graceful squat, given the tightness of her suit and the height of her heels. Harry ran into her arms. She hugged him and kissed the top of his head.

Then she noticed Abbie standing on the stairs. "What are you doing here so early?" she demanded.

"Sydney." Howell came into the hall, a kitchen towel in his hand. "We need to talk."

Sydney narrowed her eyes. She glared at Howell, then at Abbie, then back at Howell. She rose up, tall in her high heels, thin as a whip. "So that's what's going on." She snorted. "Unbelievable! You and the nanny are having a little fling."

"It's not a fling," Howell objected, adding, "and let's not do this in front of our son."

"I think fling is actually a rather perfect way of putting it," Sydney snapped, "and why not do it in front of Harry? I imagine you two have been doing lots of things in front of Harry."

"Harry!" Howell reached for his son's hand. "We're going to have some adult time, so you get to watch television."

Harry pulled away, reluctant.

Howell persisted. "In fact, I'm going to give you the remote control. You can change channels all you want."

At this, Harry's face lit up.

"I'll be in the kitchen." Sydney stalked away from the rest of them.

Howell led Harry into the living room and settled him on the sofa. Abbie took a deep breath and followed Sydney into the kitchen. Howell's wife was leaning against the counter, her arms crossed, her face bitter.

Sydney raked her gaze over Abbie's face. "Well, aren't you the little mult.i.tasker. I have to say I'm surprised you've caught Howell's eye. You're hardly a femme fatale."

Abbie didn't reply. She understood Sydney's anger.

"It's a cliche, you know," Sydney sneered. "The boss s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the help."

Howell entered the room. "Sydney, let's not talk that way."

"Oh, listen to you, so civilized and refined. You can screw the nanny but you don't want to talk about it."

"I want to marry Abbie," Howell announced. "I love her, and I think she's good for Harry."

Sydney shook her head like a boxer who's been stunned by an unexpected blow. "You want to marry her? Good G.o.d, Howell, you really are full of surprises." Then she smiled triumphantly. "And she is why you want a divorce?" Sydney really had a remarkable voice, as clear as a bell, and full of confidence. "Howell, you are such a loser. I'm the one who wants a divorce! You want to shack up with a babysitter. But I'm going to marry the next senator for New York State."

Howell seemed genuinely amazed. "Everett Candelli? You've been seeing Everett Candelli?"

"What?" Now Sydney's voice was gleeful. "You think someone that important wouldn't notice a little ol' lawyer?"

Oh, man! Abbie felt like a kite swept up in a gale of fresh, intoxicating air. Oh, man, Sydney wants a divorce, too!

"I'm impressed," Howell said. "Everett is a remarkable man and a great public servant. I'm glad for you, Sydney."

"The h.e.l.l you are. You're just relieved that you won't have a nasty divorce and custody case to deal with."

"Well," Howell admitted, "that's true, too."

"Daddy," Harry called. "The remote doesn't work."

Howell looked frustrated. "Okay, kid, I'm coming." He left the room.

Abbie found Sydney's angry eyes latched on to her face. She sucked up her courage and found her voice. She said the one true thing that would matter to the other woman. "I love Harry. I want you to know that."

"Like you have any idea what maternal love is," Sydney snapped. "Sweet little you, all innocent and eager! You're just a hopeless girl, you can't imagine what it takes to be a mother."

"Actually, I can," Abbie began.

"Being a nanny is nothing like being a mother!" Sydney exploded. "You worry all the f.u.c.king time! Vigilance, intelligence, all your best intentions, none of that matters! It doesn't stop when you go to sleep, it never stops! You are going to be so swamped if you take on Harry. You won't sleep at night, you won't know what to do when he gets sick, h.e.l.l, you can't even take him on a f.u.c.king carousel! It's hard work, sometimes it's hopeless and heartbreaking! You feel like you never get anything right! But look at you, you think you know how to be a mother!"

Abbie could understand the woman's rage, and it was with consideration of the mother Sydney was that Abbie said quietly, "My own mother died when I was fifteen. I pretty much raised my two sisters."

"That's hardly the same!" Sydney retorted. Suddenly she collapsed in a chair and rubbed her hands over her face. "But that's too bad. It must have been hard for you." She studied Abbie for a long moment, her eyes penetrating and critical. Finally, she said, "Oh, f.u.c.k it, what do I know? You've been good with Harry. I can tell he feels loved by you. d.a.m.n it all, you'll probably be a decent stepmother."

"I will," Abbie promised in a hushed voice.

"All right, do me a favor," Sydney said. "Take Harry somewhere so Howell and I can talk. We've got a lot of details to iron out."

Abbie hesitated. "Okay."

Howell and Harry were still in the living room, struggling with the stalled remote control. They looked up at her, the lines of their faces, the fall of their hair, and their hopeful expressions so much alike it made Abbie smile.

"You know what?" Abbie said. "Forget the TV, Harry. I'm going to take you to my house to meet my family."

Howell looked relieved. "Good idea." He added, "Come back by lunchtime, okay?"

Abbie nodded and took Harry's hand. "Okay."

They stepped out into the gusty day. Abbie's spirits swirled like the wind and she was almost running, tugging Harry along. "You'll love my house, Harry. I've got lots of cool things for you to see. We've got seash.e.l.ls and dolls and a cat named Cinnamon and a Playhouse!"

"You're silly today," Harry giggled.

"Harry, I'm absolutely slaphappy!" she agreed.

60.

Abbie, Emma, Lily, and Marina and Harry, Spencer, and Jim Marina said, "I'm okay, now, Jim." She pulled away from him, slightly embarra.s.sed that they were sitting on the side of the busy airport road, wrapped up in each other like a pair of high school lovers while half of Nantucket drove past, gawking.

Still, Jim's embrace was very nice.

"Ready to go home?" he asked.

She liked the sound of that, going home. "Absolutely."

He pulled the truck back out onto the road and headed back to town. He steered with one hand and kept the other on Marina's thigh. "I think I'll skip work this morning."

"Really?" Marina turned toward him and touched the side of his face. She felt so close to him, so happy with her choice, as if finally she'd stepped away from her past and crossed the threshold into her future.

"Well ..." For a few moments, Jim seemed at a loss for words. "Marina. I know what kind of a decision you made just now. How hard it must have been for you. And G.o.d, I'm glad you chose me. Us. Here. I think you were brave. I don't think this is any kind of a normal day, and I don't want to go rus.h.i.+ng off to work."

Marina touched his face gently with her fingertips. "Jim."

He pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. "Besides, I've just had a contract signed and a payment made for a major renovation on a huge old house, so I can take a little time for myself." He turned to Marina with a grin. "And you know what? I'm starving. I feel like I haven't eaten for days."

Marina laughed. "I'm hungry, too. I bought eggs yesterday. I'll make us scrambled eggs ... protein for energy!" She was so pleased with how hungry she felt, hungry and euphoric and healthy and right.

"What's so funny?" Jim asked.

"Nothing," she told him. "Everything. I think I'm a little berserk. The past few hours have been pretty intense. And now I just feel really good!"

They held hands as they walked to the house. The warm aroma of coffee still lingered in the air, but the house was quiet.

"The girls have gone," Jim said.

"I don't think Emma was here last night," Marina told him. She got out a mixing bowl and the eggs, and it was so satisfying, how perfectly an egg fit into her hand, how smooth it was, how real and comforting and nouris.h.i.+ng, this simple thing.

"h.e.l.lo!" The front door slammed and a moment later Abbie was there, holding hands with a little boy.

"Hi, guys!" Abbie lifted the child up into her arms. "This is Harry! Harry, this is my dad, Jim. And Dad's friend, Marina." As everyone said h.e.l.lo, Abbie studied her father and Marina. "So they've gone?"

"We just put them on the plane," Jim said.

Abbie whooped with glee and did a little salsa, bouncing Harry in her arms. He giggled. Abbie said, "Marina, I'm so glad."

Marina blushed. "Thanks. Want some scrambled eggs?"

"No, thanks, we just had pancakes," Abbie told her. She set Harry on the floor. "Maybe some fruit, though. I'll make a fruit bowl." She opened the refrigerator.

Marina smiled and began cracking the eggs into the mixing bowl.

The back door opened. Emma and Spencer stepped inside.

Emma's eyes widened. "Marina! You're here!"

Marina winked. "Yup. Jim and I took Gerry and the baby to the airport first thing this morning."

"Hallelujah!" Everyone was staring at them. Emma collected her wits and said, "Everyone, this is Spencer. Spencer, this is my dad, Marina, my sister Abbie, and--" She squatted down next to the little boy. "You must be Harry."

He looked amazed at her clairvoyance. "I am Harry!" He laughed.

Emma said, "And I've never met a Harrier Harry than you." She stood up. "Oh, wow, Marina, are you fixing breakfast? We're starving."

"Coming right up." Marina took out a block of cheddar and grated a pile to add to the eggs. She put four pieces of bread into the toaster, and set the b.u.t.ter out to soften. She took a package of bacon from the freezer and organized it for the microwave. She said, "Emma, could you pour the juice? Jim, could you make more coffee?" She found the blueberry jam and set it with a spoon in the middle of the table. I've found my element, she thought.

The microwave pinged. Marina took out the bacon. "All right, everyone, breakfast is ready. Grab a seat." She put the bacon on a platter and loaded plates with a pile of steaming-hot b.u.t.tery, yellow eggs. She grabbed the second round of toast, spread it with b.u.t.ter, and set it on the table.

"I might be a little hungry, too," Harry announced hopefully.

Jim said, "Here's a trick." He picked up a pile of cookbooks and set them on a chair, then lifted the little boy up. "Just the right height," he said, pus.h.i.+ng the chair close to the table.

Emma looked around the table. With so many people here, they were crowded arm to arm, and she liked it. She saw Spencer talking to Marina, and thought: Maybe we're not the weirdest family in the world.

The back door opened and Lily stepped into the kitchen. Her face fell. "No one told me about a party."

Emma laughed. "Lily, it's just breakfast!"

Marina motioned to the chair next to her. "Sit down, Lily. There's plenty here."

Pleased but confused, Lily sat.

"Where's Jason?" Marina asked as she dished up eggs for Lily.

"He's working," Lily said. She leaned close to Marina. "I talked to Jason. I told him we could compromise, he could come to Paris, too--"

"Who's going to Paris?" her father asked.

"Oh, well, I am, Dad." The eggs smelled so good she took a bite before continuing. "Eartha's going to take me. This fall. For six months. And Jason's not thrilled."

Her father looked perplexed. "I thought you were going to marry Jason."

"Well, I am. But first I'm going to France."

"This is marvelous, Lily," Marina said.

"I know!" Lily wiggled with delight. "Maybe you can come visit. You and Dad." She looked around the table. "Maybe you can all come visit!"

Emma squeezed Spencer's hand under the table. "Perhaps we will," she told her sister. "It's a possibility."

Harry slipped out of his chair and went to the shelf holding the beach treasures. "Nanny Abbie, what's this?"

Abbie knelt next to him. "It's cool stuff we found on the beach. That's a rock we liked. And that's an oyster sh.e.l.l. You can pick it up. When I was your age, Harry, I used to pretend it was a cradle for my little troll."

Harry's eyes went wide. "You had a little troll?"

"Yes. I made them out of rocks. Let me show you." Abbie took the small, smooth rock from the trophy spot and drew a face on it with a blue felt-tip pen. Harry watched, entranced.

"You have a lot of people in your family, Nanny Abbie!" Harry said, looking over at the table where the others were eating and talking and laughing.

"That's true," Abbie agreed.