Arriving back at the house on our bikes after our morning activities, the children and I found a long black vehicle, barely smaller than a limousine, pulling up outside Wonderland—a black Lincoln Town Car with South Carolina license plates. The car was unfamiliar to me, but Hayward and Jilly knew who this was. Neither one of them looked particularly happy about it. Nobody seemed in a rush to greet the occupants.
“Our grandparents,” Hayward groaned. “They live in Hilton Head most of the time. My mom told me some friend of my grandpa’s kicked the bucket. They probably came for the funeral.”
A visit from the Cabots was a rare event, evidently. “My grandpa hates my dad,” Jilly explained as the three of us parked our bikes.
“Our grandmother’s not that wild about him either,” Hayward added. “They think our dad just married our mom so he’d get a bunch of their money.”
As we approached the house, a more immediate problem concerned me. Ever since the arrival of Hurricane Brenda, Forrest had been gone for the better part of every day. The note he left this morning said he’d gone for a “training swim”—a full seven miles around the lakeshore.Judging from recent experience, he was unlikely to be home for another hour or two.
That wouldn’t be so bad if Regina were up, but her naps had been lasting longer and longer lately. This left the distinct possibility that it would be just the children and me entertaining our guests and having to come up with an explanation for the absence of their parents.
Prudence had let them in. Now the grandparents—Colson and Suzanne—sat side by side on the couch. Though it was just past lunchtime, they had their drinks in hand. Good call on the part of Prudence, who was back in the kitchen now, preparing snacks.
Just when I thought it was going to be up to me to keep the ball rolling, Forrest appeared. Still in his swim trunks, he’d come in straight from the lake, his impressive ab muscles on display. He was still drying himself off on the patio when he spotted them: the in-laws who despised him.
The man who stepped into the house now was either a long-distance swimmer who had just spent four hours making his way around the lake or—more likely—a man who had passed the majority of that time having sex somewhere with Brenda Barnett. You could say that finding his in-laws in his house at just this moment was Forrest’s worst nightmare.
I watched him arrange his face. Within seconds he took on the role of genial host, offering a warm welcome to the only two individuals on the planet, possibly, who didn’t think he was wonderful. He ran the towel briskly over his still-wet hair and wrapped it around his waist, then extended his hand with his usual open-faced grin.
“Colson! Suzanne! Regina didn’t tell me you were coming. Looks like Prudence already got you a drink!”
My weeks at the Lake Catherine Country Club had provided me with an education in the behavior of people like these two, and at the club I’d learned to tolerate them, but I didn’t do that now. As hurt as I’d been by Forrest’s abandonment, I felt a surge of protectiveness andoffense on his behalf. It had taken me about four minutes to conclude that I hated the Cabots.
Forrest cast his eyes in the direction of the kitchen. I knew he’d be praying Prudence would bring a drink for him too. On the double. I could hear her in the kitchen preparing it.
He took a seat across from his in-laws. Forrest was always good at concealing any sign of trouble, but I knew, because I knew him so well, that he’d rather be almost anyplace else—the dentist’s office getting root canal surgery, a meeting with the Internal Revenue Service to discuss his tax return, a class in embroidery, cleaning a bilge pump—than where he was, in this beautiful room, in his beautiful house, overlooking a beautiful lake on a perfect summer day, with two people who probably wished he’d drop dead so long as he didn’t bleed on the furniture.
Across from them, the children slouched against the pillows of the other couch. Hayward examined his fingernails. Jilly kept her hands in her lap.
“Come say hello to your grandparents,” Suzanne instructed them. Jilly approached the couch, offering a gesture resembling a hug. Hayward followed. For Colson, the greeting was a handshake.
“They’re getting so big,” he observed to his wife. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?” he said, addressing Jilly. How was a six-year-old supposed to respond to that one?
“You want to see my Teddy Ruxpin, Grandma?” Jilly said. “He talks.”
“Did you get the doll I sent you?” her grandmother asked. The latest American Girl.
“I sent you a thank-you note,” Jilly reminded her. Regina would have made sure of this.
“Oh, right. I hope you liked it. I have to say, those dolls are no bargain.”
Prudence set out the plate of cheese and crackers. Colson reached for an olive. Forrest took a long sip from the Bloody Mary Prudence had delivered to him in record time.
“So how was your drive?” he asked.
“We stopped in Boston for the night,” Suzanne offered. “The Parker House.”
“I’ve had their rolls,” I told them. Trying to be helpful. It was meant to be a joke, sort of.
“Getting a lot of golf in this summer?” Forrest asked his father-in-law.
“Not particularly.” End of conversation.
Jilly had returned now with the toy to show her grandmother—her talking bear. Hayward had already made his way over to the gaming console. We could hear the sound of a game he’d acquired recently coming from where he sat,The Legend of Zelda.
Suzanne cast her eyes over Forrest, bare chested and still dripping on the couch. “Looks like you’ve been doing some swimming,” she observed. Still with his towel around his waist, Forrest reached for his shirt. A damp spot had formed underneath him. No doubt Suzanne would disapprove. Regina was particular about the upholstery. I saw where she got it from.
“I’m training for a triathlon,” he said. “Labor Day weekend.”
