Sun, Sea and Stupid, Stupid Me!

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Labor Day weekend finally arrived, and Keeley, James and I loaded our stuff into the Zipcar early Thursday morning for the drive out to the Hamptons. Lila had encouraged me to bring some friends, insisting that “the beach was made for the young.” Tamsin was in England, paying a long overdue visit to the Earl and Countess at the ancestral pile. But James was in between gigs, and Keeley had a few days off coming to her, so both were more than eager to escape the City for the weekend. Besides, let’s face it – who wouldn’t jump at the chance to stay at a sprawling East Hampton estate for free?

Leaving early Thursday helped us avoid the holiday weekend out to the Island, so we made excellent time, arriving at Sand Castle Cottage in time for lunch. As we pulled up the winding drive, and got our first view of Lila’s beachfront home, James uttered the thought that had entered all of our minds, “That’s a cottage?”

No kidding, Sand Castle Cottage was a sprawling three-story edifice that was more Castle than Cottage. In addition to the main building, there were several outbuildings, all with the same weathered, Cape Cod-style shingles and mullioned windows as the “cottage.” We reached the main house by circling a huge fountain, and pulled up in front of the door. For some reason, though, none of us could manage to get out of the car. We just sat there, staring at each other.

“Last time I was in a place like this,” I said, “I was about five, and spent the weekend helping the nanny find Felicity, who kept running away.”

“Last time I was in a place like this,” James said, “I was the pool boy.”

“I’ve never been in a place like this,” Keeley said.

We sat there for a few more minutes, until the door opened, and Lila came out onto the front steps, a huge smile on her face. “My dears,” she said, descending the steps toward the car. “You made it! And just in time, too. I’ve had lunch set out on the rear verandah. I thought you’d like to take advantage of the view.”

By then we had exited the car, and Lila had embraced each of us, much to the surprise of Keeley and James, who were meeting her for the first time.  We went around to the trunk to get our things, but Lila, put her hand on my arm to stop me.

“No, no. Leave your things,” she said. “Just give Dennis your keys and he’ll have everything taken to Seagull Bungalow.”

“Seagull Bungalow?” I asked, handing my Zipcard over to a uniformed man that I took to be a butler. He looked at it uncertainly, and James stepped in to explain how the Zipcar worked.

“Yes,” Lila responded, as we mounted the steps. “Of course, if you prefer to stay in the main house, you’re more than welcome. But I thought you kids might like your privacy. And the bungalow is in such a lovely setting.”

“No, no. I’m sure the Bungalow will be perfect, thank you.” I said.

“Is this for real?” Keeley whispered to James as they followed behind us.

Do I even need to describe lunch? After walking through the massive entry foyer, and the rear sitting room, we mounted another flight of stairs, passed through another sitting room, and walked out onto the wraparound verandah. All three of us stopped short, nearly causing a slapstick pileup. The view was nothing short of breathtaking. From this height, we could see across the dunes to the wide white beach, and the huge expanse of blue ocean.

“I’m never going home,” Keeley murmured. I couldn’t blame her. I could barely take my eyes off the water as Lila guided us toward the table. When I did finally turn away from the view, I saw that Lila was smiling broadly.

“It’s so nice to have young people to share this with,” she said. “Michael has always loved it here, but these days he always seems to be working. The house seems so empty when I’m here by myself.”

“Well, Mrs. Finley,” James said, as he began to pile his plate high. “We’re more than happy to keep you company, anytime.”

I kicked James under the table, but he ignored me. And Lila didn’t seem to mind the rather obvious comment. She just smiled and turned her attention to Keeley, who was stirring up trouble of her own, unfortunately.

“Michael is your grandson, right?” Keeley asked.  “Francie’s told us all about him.”

“Has she?” Lila responded, with a distinct twinkle in her eye. “Well, I hope you won’t hold that against him when he arrives tomorrow.”

I knew my face was turning red as I protested, “No, really, I never – I would never—“

Lila laughed. “Relax, Francie. I know full well that my grandson has been less than charming to you. No one would blame you for disliking him, even a little.”

“Dis-liking?” Keeley began, breaking off with a grin when I redirected my under-the-table kick at her.

“Michael and I may not always agree,” I offered, trying to be diplomatic. “But there is no question about how we feel about you, Lila. Thank you so much for having us here. It’s really very generous of you.”

There, that was true enough. There was no question that Michael and I both cared a great deal about Lila. There may be questions about every other aspect of our interaction with each other, but not about that. And, my well-timed gratitude forced Keeley and James to also offer their thanks, which effectively turned the tide of the conversation.

Lunch passed very comfortably after that, and soon Dennis was showing us to Seagull Bungalow. As soon as I saw the bungalow, I realized that Lila’s choice of name was once again a masterful stroke of understatement. The “bungalow” was a two-story, shingled house, set among a little grove of trees, with a private path out to the beach. It was only a short walk from the main house, but its secluded setting made it feel like its own little world. Inside, there was a large great room, eat-in-kitchen and solarium on the ground floor, and three spacious bedrooms, each with a private balcony, upstairs.

“The kitchen is stocked with beverages and snacks,” Dennis explained, as he finished showing us around. “If there is anything specific that you need, don’t hesitate to tell me or one of the staff. Please fell free to pass the afternoon however you wish. Mrs. Finley would like you to dine with her this evening at seven-thirty, but if you prefer to make alternate plans, just let us know. Your car has been parked in Garage Three.”

“Um, thank you,” I responded, taking the Zipcard from Dennis. He departed and the three of us once again just stared at each other.

“Garage three?” Keeley finally said.

“Look, it’s not like we didn’t know that Lila has money,” I said, even though I was a bit overwhelmed myself.

James snorted. “Donald Trump has money. Lila Finley – I swear, if you go into her purse, I bet the bills have her face on them!”

There wasn’t much I could say to that, so I didn’t say anything. Instead, we each made our way to our bedrooms, changed into our beach attire and met back downstairs to walk to the beach together. We were surprised to see how empty the beach was during this last week of summer.

“She probably owns the beach, too,” James said, as he took off his “Kylie” t-shirt and stretched out on a towel.

“You’re such a walking cliché, you know that, right?” Keeley said. She started to stretch out a towel as well, but stopped when she saw two young men running down the beach towards us, from the main house.

“Hi, sorry,” the first young man said, a little out of breath. Mr. Cole told us he forgot to have the chairs brought out.”

“Mr. Cole?” Keeley asked, preening a little as the young man, who we learned was named Martin, gave her bikini-clad body an appreciative once-over. The other one, Lance, was too busy checking out James to hear her question.

“That’d be Dennis, I’m guessing,” I said, with a grin.

“Yes, ma’am,” Lewis said, finally turning from James. “If you’ll just give us a sec, we’ll bring everything out.”

“Let me help you,” James offered, rising from his towel in a manner clearly designed to show off his abs. He followed Martin and Lance, draping his arm over Lance’s shoulders as they disappeared down the path to the bungalow.

Keeley and I watched them go, and then Keeley murmured, “So, did James say he was the pool boy? Or he did the pool boy?”

I laughed out loud, and proceeded to take off my cover-up. After all, I couldn’t let Keeley and James get all the attention, could I?

Keeley looked at my blue and white bikini, and commented, “Nice. New?”

“Yes,” I said, growing a little self-conscious when I saw the twinkle in Keeley’s eyes. “What?” I asked.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. But, um, wasting it on James and me, aren’t you? Unless there are more in that little suitcase of yours?” I felt my cheeks turning red, and Keeley grinned wickedly. “There are!” she crowed. “Oh, I can’t wait for this!”

I tried to say something in my defense, but was forestalled by the arrival of James, Martin and Lance, armed with lounge chairs, tables and umbrellas. Besides, what could I say? I had gone shopping just days before for a variety of new swimsuits, cover-ups and sundresses, and if I were honest, I would have to admit that it wasn’t Lila who I was looking to impress.

Speaking of Lila, I was feeling a little bad that we were enjoying ourselves on the beach, instead of spending time with our hostess, even though she had encouraged us to take advantage of the beautiful weather. After a couple of hours on the beach, I decided to return to the bungalow to shower and change for dinner. Then I made my way up to the main house, where Dennis directed me through the warren of rooms to a lovely, bright study, where Lila was going through some paperwork.

“Hello, Francie,” she said with a smile, beckoning me further into the room. “Have a seat. Is everything all right with the bungalow?”

“Yes, of course,” I assured her. “It’s amazing. I just thought I’d come up and spend a little time with you.”

“That’s sweet of you, Francie, but it’s not necessary.”

“I know.” I caught a glimpse of a photo on her desk. It was of a smiling family of five – mom, dad, and three tall, attractive sons. Three tall attractive sons who looked a bit familiar.

Lila followed my gaze. “My daughter, Olivia, and her family,” she said, a trace of sadness in her voice. “That’s Michael – the youngest one, in the middle. This was the year before he came to live with me.”

Something stirred in my memory. Suddenly I pictured Lila’s balcony on a warm June Saturday afternoon. “You once said something about raising him,” I said.

“Yes, after the accident. Michael was ten.”

“He lost his parents?” I knew how painful it had been to lose my parents, but at least I’d had my mother growing up.

“Yes.”

“And that’s when he and his brothers came to live with you?”

Lila looked at me, as if started by what I had said. I could not imagine why. Then she smiled an unbearably sad smile and shook her head.

“No,” she said. “Only Michael. Olivia’s oldest, William, was in his first year at Stanford. The family went to see him for parents’ weekend. But Michael had to stay behind because he had the chicken pox.” She paused, lost in the memory. At length, she finished, “They decided to take a sightseeing ride in a helicopter. It – it crashed in the bay.”

“Oh, my God!” I didn’t know what else to say. The tragedy of it was inconceivable. For both Michael and Lila.

“In that one moment, Michael lost everyone he loved.” Lila stopped speaking, and stroked the side of the picture frame.

“Not everyone,” I said, laying my hand over Lila’s other hand on the desk. “He had you. And you had him.”

Lila smiled and gripped my hand in hers. “You’re right, of course. To this day, I don’t know if I was there for him, or he was there for me.”

“You were there for each other, and you’re very fortunate.” I realized a hint of bitterness had slipped into my own voice when I thought about my mother’s death, and the fact that I could not depend on Felicity for anything. But, I’d had Tamsin, who of course was more of a sister to me than Felicity had ever been.

“I tried to give Michael all the love and guidance I knew his parents would have given him,” Lila said, drawing my attention away from my own memories. “And to insure he turned out to be the kind of man his parents would have been proud of.”

“Well, you succeeded,” I said honestly. “You raised him to be a good man.”

“Who has not always been good to you,” Lila pointed out.

“Only because he was looking out for you. All that is forgotten.”

Lila and I made an effort to turn the conversation to happier topics, and we passed a comfortable hour together until Keeley and James joined us for dinner. During dinner, Lila invited us to go into the village of Southampton in the morning for some shopping, and we all readily accepted.

The next morning, we spent an enjoyable two hours shopping in the cute boutiques up and down the Main Street in Southampton Village. Well, Lila shopped, and the rest of us window-shopped, but it was still fun.

Over the course of the morning, Lila mentioned that Michael was due later that afternoon. So you can imagine my surprise when, while heading down the path to the beach just before lunch, I came face to face with Michael, coming out of the water in a manner strangely reminiscent of Colin Firth in Pride and Prejudice (only without the frilly white shirt). I stared openly as Michael walked up the beach toward me. Good God, that man was ripped!

“Hi, Francie,” Michael said, offering his hand. “Dennis mentioned you and your friends had arrived yesterday. How do you like Sand Castle Cottage?”

“It’s incredible,” I answered, shaking his hand and forcing myself not to look at that remarkable chest, which was now only inches from me. “Although the last part of the name is a bit misleading, don’t you think?”

Michael laughed. “True. It was my grandfather’s attempt at modesty. Not a strong trait among the men in our family. I smiled in response, and Michael continued, “I take it my grandmother has finished pillaging the shops of Southampton?”

“Yes,” I said. “We just got back. She’s at the house.”

Michael opened his mouth to reply, but was forestalled by a feminine voice coming from behind me.

“Michael! Your grandmother’s back!” I turned toward the voice, and was sure my jaw dropped as a stunning, statuesque brunette, in khaki shorts and a button down blouse, made her way down the path toward us.

“Oh, yeah, Francie told me,” Michael said as the woman reached us. He looked from her look of polite inquiry to my look of utter confusion. “Oh, sorry, you’ve never met, have you?”

“N-no,” I stuttered.

“Lauren, this is Francie Fellowes. I told you about her.”

Lauren smiled. “Oh, yes of course. Nice to finally meet you, Francie.”

She extended her hand, which I took automatically, just as Michael said, “Francie, this is Lauren Dawes, my fiancée.”

A strange daze overtook me at those words, and I barely noticed that Keeley and James  had arrived and stood a few paces behind me, until I caught their shared whisper of, “Oh, shit!”

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