The Beach House Read Free Page A

It’s hot and muggy and revolting in the city. I’m deeply jealous of you on the island—is it beautiful?”
    “Not yet.” Nan smiles. “But it will be. Why don’t you come out? I miss you. It’s too quiet here with just me rattling around.”
    “What about Sarah? Do you still have Sarah?”
    “She still comes once or twice a week to help me out,” Nan says, “and I love having her around, but I miss my family, miss this house ringing with the sounds of people having fun. Remember when you used to come up here with all your friends for the summer? Remember how much fun it was? Why don’t you come up with some people? Wouldn’t they all kill for a vacation on Nantucket?”
    Michael laughs. His mother never changes. “They would undoubtedly kill for a vacation on Nantucket, if only they could take the time off work. And most of them are married now, with kids. It’s different. They can’t just sweep their families up and bring them out.”
    “But why ever not?” Nan is genuinely perplexed. “I adore children, this is the perfect place for children.”
    “I know that, but it’s just . . . hard. People are busy, everyone’s running all the time. But I would love to come. I’d love to see you. I can’t make it up at the moment, the bosses are away for another week or so and I need to be here, but maybe I can come at the end of the summer.”
    Nan turns off the tap and reaches for a cigarette.
    “Oh Mom. You’re not still smoking.”
    Nan ignores him. “How are things going with the girl . . . what’s her name? Aisling?”
    Michael smiles. “Interesting. I like her. Still very early days but so far so good. She’s fiery. Independent. You’d like her.”
    “I’d love to meet her.” Nan is careful not to ask too much. “Bring her.”
    “Maybe I will. What are you up to today?”
    “Making lunch. Andrew Moseley is coming.”
    “Your financial adviser?”
    “Exactly!”
    “Is everything okay?”
    “Why wouldn’t it be?”
    “It seems unusual for him to travel up to see you.”
    Nan shrugs. “I think, after four years, it’s probably just due. Anyway, lovely to have some company. I’m making delicious salads straight from the garden, and Sarah has promised to drop off a lobster salad she made yesterday.”
    “Sounds yummy.” Michael instantly pictures the table set on the deck, his mother’s ballet slippers kicked off as she curls her legs under her after lunch, cradling a large tumbler of white wine in one hand, a ubiquitous cigarette in the other. “Don’t drink too much.”
    Michael says good-bye with a sad smile, clicking his phone shut as he reaches his bike which is chained to a lamp post outside his apartment on 94th and Columbus. As he does so he is unaware of the admiring glance he’s given from a tall blond walking her dog.
    Michael has always been unaware of his appeal, taken for granted his large green eyes, inherited from his mother, his easy smile, his all-American clean-cut looks.
    At forty-two he looks much like the college football player he used to be, tanned and rangy, and utterly comfortable in his skin.
    He undoes the lock and secures his helmet, slipping the phone into his backpack and weaving off down Columbus, making a mental note to phone Sarah, just to make sure that Mom is okay, to make sure that someone is looking out for her, that she isn’t quite as alone as she sounds.

Chapter Two
    "Tell me about how you met.” Dr. Posner leans back in his chair and looks over at them, sitting at opposite ends of the sofa, the elegant brunette tucked awkwardly into the corner, twisting a strand of her shoulderlength bob nervously as she darts glances toward her husband, who sits still, staring at the floor.
    The husband is slim, dark-haired, with coal-black eyes that occasionally rise to meet Dr. Posner’s, eyes filled with sadness and pain.
    They are a handsome couple. She early to mid-thirties, he early forties, Dr. Posner guesses. She wears printed Capris, ballet