Summer House Read Free Page A

the arch in the high wall of privet hedge, and followed the path over the slate terrace to the French doors. These opened into the long living room, with its sofas and chairs and piano and fireplace and, at the far end, its expansive view of the harbor.
    Back when she was a new bride and still known by her given name of Anne, she had learned how to keep the hedge healthy and trimmed from her mother-in-law, the ironically christened Charity Wheelwright. Anne would have preferred to allow her three children to play in the garden, but Charity Wheelwright was adamant. Children would spoil the elegance and symmetry, they’d poke holes in the thick green tapestry with their careless games. So Worth and Bobby and Grace were sent out the side door, through the mudroom, with their nanny, to play on the windy moors and in the high lofts of the barn—before it was converted to a garage. Perhaps Nona—Anne—longed to go with them, to jump, shrieking, down into the old piles of hay, to chase them through the slender trunks of the forest behind the barn, to feel the tickle of low wild grasses beneath her own bare feet. But in those days, a woman, a good woman, was responsive to the demands of her mother-in-law. In those days, a good woman put her husband first and her mother-in-law second. And children were tended by others until they were old enough to sit quietly at the dinner table and appreciate adult conversation.
    Still, Nona believed she had been a good mother. An approachable, reasonable, generous-spirited mother-in-law. And an affectionate, adoring, devoted grandmother. It gave her a sense of satisfaction, even smugness, to know that all her family was arriving today to helpher celebrate her birthday. That would be fine. She even looked forward to it, although at her age she hated being the center of attention. Still, Grace had arranged a party at the yacht club, and Nona always loved parties.
    No, it was Family Meeting that was making her nervous. Family Meeting was just two weeks away, and she was uncomfortable— anxious , really. Nona shifted her knees beneath the mohair blanket as her thoughts stung at her like tiny insects.
    The silly business about Charlotte’s little garden!
    Three years ago, when Charlotte asked to use the three acres of Nona’s waterfront property that fronted Polpis Road for an organic market garden, Nona had readily agreed. After all, the land was just lying there, fallow, low scrubland with no endangered plant species and all the beauty of a forlorn prairie. You couldn’t even see the land from the first floor of the house because the formal garden, walled in by its high privet hedge, blocked the view. Nona had thought that Charlotte’s business plan was well considered and supported with research and statistics, and the others—Charlotte’s parents, Worth and Helen, Worth’s sister, Grace, and her husband, Kellogg—had thought so, too. When they discussed it at Family Meeting, no one had objected. Not Charlotte’s siblings, not Grace and Kellogg’s three daughters.
    Of course, everyone thought privately that Charlotte wouldn’t really follow through; Charlotte’s enthusiasms were like firecrackers, explosive and brief. Everyone assumed she’d tire of the endless manual labor of gardening, and the land would soon be covered again with wild grasses.
    No one had expected that Charlotte would love the work, that her garden would flourish, that she would, so soon, be making a profit from the place. Oh, Charlotte wasn’t close to making a living off it, not yet, but Grace and Kellogg and their daughters were already mumbling about “balancing out inequalities.” What did they want? Nona thought irritably. Should she give them each a check for a pitiful four thousand dollars or whatever little amount Charlotte netted last year? Would that keep them from becoming jealous, from believingthat Charlotte was her favorite and receiving more than the others?
    It was all nonsense. Nona would not