It Happens in the Hamptons Read online

  “What are all those buoys out in the bay for?” Katie yelled from out front, still trying to justify to herself that it was a grand, harmless idea to make a nice, really handsome male friend. “Why so many in one long line? Are there lobster traps here?”

  “No, the town puts them in. It’s not fishermen. On the other side, there’s a jetty that sticks out much farther than expected, some of it underwater. It’s used for tidal flows, but speeding boats don’t always expect it and it can be very dangerous at night for people who don’t know the water. Along the sides, there are natural sandbars that make the depth go from about eight feet to about two feet with no notice.”

  “Glad I’m not driving,” she yelled back. “I can see the lighter and darker patches showing the changes in depth.”

  “It’s really dangerous, actually. When we rent out the two Jet Skis, we have to explain to everyone what the issues are. That is, if we have a camp.”

  Katie turned and faced Luke, then took the kids off the bow and sat on the bench right next to him and the steering wheel. She figured this might allow less forced conversation, less of this distant flirt-or-not-to-flirt dance. Time to start acting normal, relaxed, no big deal to sit next to Luke and relate to him like an adult.

  “What did you mean by that, if we have a camp?”

  “See that bay constable out there, the boat that looks like a police car? He was gone on the other side of the bay, but now he’s back, just puttering out there a hundred yards, only to make me nervous. And, unfortunately, it’s working. He’s in sync with the town trustees to shut us down over a little technicality about where we exchange money. Some late fees. Maybe some forms, too.”

  “Why?”

  “Just miserable, uptight people from the Seabrook Club who never learned how to share. We’re trying to get some families to help, but the town has got a tough clamp that’s tightening.” He looked at her beside him and lingered his eyes on hers. “Listen, I want to stay happy today, so let’s not focus on depressing stuff. The whole camp thing is freaking us all out.”

  As he drove around a lighter patch of water, Luke yelled to the kids, “Hey, kids, look on the left side, you’ll see tons of mussels next to this sandbar, they are from families called bivalve mollusks that live in both saltwater and freshwater habitats. They all have a shell whose outline is elongated compared with other edible clams.”

  “Do all the adults ever listen to you about safety in the bays of the Hamptons? That water is so shallow now,” Katie asked.

  “The kids are awesome, the adults never listen. But let’s get your vocab organized. ‘The Hamptons’ is not what those who actually live here call it.”

  “You don’t . . . hold a sec.” She rubbed her son’s back as he leaned over the edge of the idling boat. “Honey, I had those exact same mussels two nights ago; you liked them with the tomato sauce . . . sorry, Luke, go on.”

  All Katie could think was this guy is damn adorable just like that Tommy on the other side of her tenth grade locker.

  “So, yeah, no ‘The Hamptons’ please, because those of us who live here refer to it as Southampton or East Hampton or Bridgehampton. These are legitimate towns, places where people grow up, earn a living, form roots. It’s not a Disney resort village,” Luke instructed. “So, do me a favor, refer to our town by its name. Otherwise, it’s gonna peg you as one of them.”

  “Well, don’t look at me like one of them.” Katie laughed a little. “I’m from a town smack in the middle of the Cascade Range that goes from British Columbia to Northern California. I think that qualifies me as pretty normal. The only one of them I like is Julia Chase. We talk a bunch at drop-off and get together once in a while, but the others . . . not so sure.”

  Luke touched her arm with his elbow. Her light skin was softer than he thought. “Nightmare time is when the hedge fund dads, who got to where they are by never listening to anyone, come to rent Jet Skis. You can’t be whipping at forty miles per hour on a Jet Ski and think you’re invincible with two-foot sandbars everywhere. We often say they’re booked or broken.”

  “You have to lie to control them?” Katie asked. She was now hugging her good strong legs up on the bench, and smiling as he drove in big curves to make the boys laugh. Wisps of her hair were sticking to her face, which she kept pulling away as she concentrated on Luke’s every word. “You must love teaching near the water.”

  “Yeah, the ocean is the classroom. We study marine organisms with plankton nets in this bay and use hydrophones and sonar to find schools of fish. I’ve taught them all about the satellite tags of the great white sharks and we follow them online. Of course, there’s the conservation element that kids love; we do beach clean ups with a barbeque after on Fridays.” He turned to her. “You should come. Or, on Wednesdays I just go with friends to cook and surf. Either works.”

  “Yeah. That sounds really good.” Katie let her knees fall to the floor, and looked at him, her green eyes sparkling like the translucent bay.

  All afternoon, Katie was skillful and thoughtful on the boat. Luke’s mother had known the waters as well; she’d taught him a bowline knot and cleat hitch when he was only in kindergarten. He wondered if she’d have liked Katie as much as he did. All the tragedy in the water might have been easier to handle if at least he knew more. Luke and Frank never found out how his mother and her strong girlfriend perished that day. Neither body was ever discovered, the boat simply overturned in seas rougher than projected.

  “I’m telling you, I got it,” Katie reassured him while she handed the boys water skis in the water, or helped tighten their vests. “I grew up near a lake a thousand times bigger than Peconic Bay. You just drive, I’ll watch the rope doesn’t get caught.” The younger boys were too frightened to try skiing, so they jumped into the huge tube to be pulled on the back of the boat and over the wake.

  At one point, Katie pulled off her T-shirt to jump into the water and help young Huck, who was getting a little overwhelmed by the spraying water and speed on the back tube. Luke watched her shorts fall to the wet floor. His eyes trailed every line of her body and she climbed up on the edge and jumped in. She lay on the tube alongside her son, while Luke chugged along at a slower pace, paying far more attention to her bouncing bikini top in the rearview mirror than any safety issues. Luke couldn’t remember one mom who’d ever gotten out of the boat and onto the tube before. Simone would have said that it would mess up her blow-dry.

  The light was high, but a late afternoon breeze hinted that the sun’s heat would soon fade. When Luke announced the hour was more than over, the boys pleaded for one more turn in a chorus of whines, whimpers, and protestations. Luke, usually firm on the need to return and fueled by his constant exasperation with too many kids and too many demands, for once had no motivation to head back.

  Back on land, he thought maybe an iced tea or ice cream in town could unfold naturally once they tied up the boat. He could explain the school system to Katie. Maybe they could even take a ride down onto the beach in his truck at sunset.

  As they approached the dock after another full hour, Luke thanked God for listening to his silent pleas, because Huck asked, “Mom, can we stay later if I help Luke clean the boat?”

  “I’m sure Luke has everything in order and is busy with his equipment and other kids on the way.”

  “No more kids.” Luke couldn’t help himself.

  She handed him his sweatshirt and, as he took it, his hand brushed her rib cage by accident. She twisted her hip away. “Well, then I’m sure he’s busy with the way he needs to close up camp.”

  “Nope. I could use the help.”

  Katie stood just a foot away and stared right at Luke. She tried to decipher if he was just flirting, or if he meant it that he wanted to hang with an eight-year-old.

  “You actually need Huck’s help?” Katie said, trying to figure out if all this togetherness was the good kind of dangerous.

  Just then, Julia Chase approached the dock and waved. “Luke, can yo
u give us one sunset surf lesson? Richie’s at home and just called and the driver can bring him.”

  “So sorry, I got a little man here I need to handle, he’s got me full-time.” Luke carried Huck piggyback.

  Julia walked up to the group and warmly put her arm around Katie. “Oh, I see, another Luke love fest going on. Lucky kid you got here, Katie. Let’s get together outside camp again soon. You want to take a class in the morning?”

  “You’re sweet, but I have too much work tomorrow, but maybe later in the week.”

  “Well, how about we have lunch. We’ve said at drop-off several times we were going to. This is getting ridiculous.”

  “I’d like that,” Katie replied, thinking maybe she could even open up to Julia like she had before. She was in desperate need of female company. Ashley back home had never stepped foot on this eastern planet and it was impossible to explain all the idiosyncrasies of life in Southampton on the phone. “Really I would, let’s do that soon.”

  “Well, then, I’ll call. I mean that. If Luke is favoring your kid over mine, there’s gonna be hell to pay, though, for both of you,” she joked and started to walk back to her car.

  Luke held Huck tight around back. In the summers, he worked every single day, and often he was so waterlogged and sunburnt in the late afternoons, he said no to all new lessons. But now, a beautiful woman with black hair and crystal-green eyes kept him alert and wanting the day to last forever. “We got man’s work to do: got to scrub the salt water off, rinse and tie up the life jackets, untangle the ropes these monsters messed up. It’s going to be a while. Good news is we pay the best helpers who do the job well.” At this, Huck’s eyes widened and he slammed his palms together in excitement. Luke ruffled Huck’s hair, already white-blond from a month in the sea.

  Julia lingered at the edge of the dock to look back at Luke touching Katie’s shoulder lightly.

  “Well, the problem is,” explained Katie, “I have to go because I have a meeting that’s going to last an hour, but if Huck can agree to be a good boy and to work hard and wait.”

  “Uh, and I don’t think I remember saying we needed you here?” responded Luke. Huck giggled. “We don’t really need you sitting around like we’re having a tea party. He can come back to the shack with me to unload equipment like a man. All good. We’ll see you here after you’re done and we’re done.”

  Katie found most men do the requisite kneel down for a moment with her son. They make a few “hey, little buddy” advances and then ignore the child, like a pet that becomes too plaintive. It was a simple test for Katie; if they blew off her son, she walked. If they understood Huck in a meaningful way, she was drawn to them.

  “Hey, Huck, you hose off the life jackets like this so they don’t go flying off the dock.” Luke then sprayed Huck’s toes, making him jump up and down.

  As for Luke, he didn’t feel he was courting danger by being with Katie because there wasn’t anyone else in the picture to complicate his choices. It was all working out so nicely, like those gray clouds pushed miles off the coast, all peaceful, sunny, feeling so right.

  Until, unfortunately, it wasn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Inconvenient Intrusions

  “Hey, Luke.”

  Luke hadn’t heard his former girlfriend Simone walk down the dock because he’d been adjusting the power of the hose with Huck. She almost checked Katie sideways into the water with the sway of her plentiful hip on her way down the plank.

  Simone wore tight white shorts and a little tank that covered up the turquoise blue Brazilian thong bikini he’d bought her at some trampy beach store in the middle of Long Island. When they were together, she’d wear anything Luke fantasized about: fishnet, crotch-less body suits, X-rated silk lingerie, and microscopic bathing suits. The bottom bikini barely covered her butt crack and the top had a crisscross design in the front and back, suggesting bondage was her thing. Luke prayed she wouldn’t display the suit underneath, or mention he’d bought it for her.

  Please, for once, keep your clothes on, Simone.

  “Hey,” Luke answered flatly. “Just working. Kinda busy.”

  Simone stood before him and in front of Katie, hands on her hips in Wonder Woman stance. It guaranteed Katie would witness her flawless legs all oiled up to shine in the sunlight.

  “See you all soon. I will make that lunch date, Katie!” Julia turned to walk down the dock to leave, but it was hard not to rubberneck.

  Katie also gawked as Simone knelt down and asked Huck for the hose, then rinsed off her feet and started rubbing sand and salt off her legs, massaging the higher part of her inner thighs longer than necessary to do the job.

  When an inch of her shorts got wet, Simone said, “Oh Jesus, I’ll just go ahead and take my damn clothes off.” She then proceeded to wiggle her large bottom out of the shorts, and stood there with about three quarters of her butt cheeks hanging out. She adjusted her teeny bikini top a bit to cover her breasts. They were enormous, and, unfortunately for Katie, not even a little fake-looking.

  “Luke,” Simone sighed, dramatically, “I told you not to buy me bathing suits like this!”

  Katie left without saying goodbye to Luke and her son, only murmuring, “I’ll be here in an hour to get him.”

  Were a fight referee here, he’d now be ringing a loud bell and thrusting Simone’s arm in the air as Katie lay K.O.’d, facedown on the splinter-filled dock.

  She walked to the old Volvo, now reeking of spoiled shrimp she’d bought for dinner. She had forgotten about the perishable groceries once they’d veered toward the docks. Katie felt dejected, but also a little relieved.

  Luke must have been flirting for fun’s sake only. Her instincts must have been all wrong. In either case, he was occupied with that woman. This made things easier. She willed herself to feel better about her original plan.

  Interlude

  The man with the pink-and-yellow gardenia lining in his jacket kept his car idling, a block from Natalie’s house. The Japanese maple’s deep burgundy leaves hovered a few feet above his car. The husband inside, Charlie, was an affable guy with a damn good putting game. He’d be playing the front nine in Westhampton that morning. Charlie had a 10:00 a.m. tee time; he knew because he’d been invited to join the foursome.

  But the man in the car canceled last minute, instead preferring to show Charlie’s wife what she’d been missing all these years.

  He watched incognito as Charlie finally walked out the front door of his small, white-shingled house, and down the front steps. He leaned down to yank a few weeds out of the cracks in the slate stepping-stones in the lawn. Charlie Duke was a tall man with a thick build in the middle, and thick sausage thighs. Big cheeks framed his persistent, good-humored smile. At forty-eight, the flesh on his flabby arms was dimpled in the sunlight. A kind fellow, just, evidently, a little clueless on pleasing the wife.

  Natalie met her husband on the deck to kiss him goodbye, a peck really, probably had always been that way. Her shoulder-length brown hair was neatly pulled up in a clip, and she wore a loose top with an extremely short tennis skirt.

  Charlie tightened his golf visor to wage the eighteen-hole war ahead. Then he walked into his garage, grabbed his fifteen-year-old Wilson clubs, laid them in the back of his Tesla Model 3, and sped off for the half hour drive to Westhampton.

  The man waited about ten minutes under the Japanese maple tree shade, just in case Charlie had forgotten something. Then he got out of the car and walked around parked cars and hedges to hide in her back lawn. He stopped behind an old barbeque covered in black vinyl, dusty with cobwebs. C’mon, Charlie, you got to at least grill for your wife. Even cavemen figured that out. Otherwise they’re going to feel lonely, uncared for, metaphorically unfed.

  Natalie opened the screen door, looking left and right nervously, and beckoned him in, while raising an eyebrow. A little moisture formed under her arms. She wasn’t used to any of this, but she felt more excited than bad.

&
nbsp; “Love the tennis skirt again, first time I saw you in that, all slippery with sweat.” He grabbed Natalie’s arm. “Do you have a guest room—can’t do your bedroom. I would never do that to a close friend.”

  “I, well, do you want some iced tea first, we could . . .”

  “Just, come here, honey. I’ve been meaning to see if I could cup that little ass in one palm for . . .” He pushed her up against the cupboards in her kitchen, kissed her softly, biting her lip a little, firmly, then gently, firmly, then gently . . . she sighed.

  This was too easy.

  “Wow, I haven’t . . .” Natalie whispered, breathing heavily. “We really shouldn’t, not here, the windows, the curtains are see-through, not . . .”

  Housewives were such a slam dunk, especially in the kitchen. It probably reminded them of some stupid TV show they watched. She was right about the windows, though; he glanced left out the back lawn to assess the risk factor.

  He considered that she was hardly worth the lay. He’d have to be nice to her socially now, but, still . . . those oiled-up legs by the pool. He’d told her he wanted to drag his fingers slowly up them until he drove her insane. She’d answered by saying to call, and, well, here they were. Charlie would be hitting his three-wood down the second fairway soon.

  He looked out at the small lawn. God forbid some contractor or landscaper worked on Fridays. He picked her up while she wrapped her legs around his hard waist, and placed her on the dryer in the window-less washroom. As he walked with her, he figured he’d multitask, and so he reached four fingers from each hand up her short skirt, dancing them delicately inside the lace on her panties. She must have weighed one hundred and ten pounds. A shame he hadn’t placed her on a bed. She’d spin like a little top.

  “I’m going to do things to your body that . . .” Always a good thing to give women the impression he was only there for them, especially the harried wives. It got them hot quicker. That, in turn, got him hot, which meant he could start getting his way sooner.