Nora’s annual Fourth of July party was in full swing by the time Lauren corralled her mother, sister, and Ethan and got them into the car to drive over. The delay had been due to the problem of how to transport the absolutely insane amount of doughnuts her mother had baked.
“Mom, there’s enough for two parties here,” she said, surveying the trays of red, white, and blue–frosted doughnuts, the apple-pie doughnuts, and the pale glazed ones that her mother had identified as margarita doughnuts.
“What makes a margarita doughnut?” Lauren had asked.
“My little secret. But I’ll give you a hint: lime zest and tequila.”
“Okay, Mom, we don’t need to bring all of these.”
“Earlier in the week, you said two parties, so that’s what I prepared for.”
That’s right; Henny, still hurt and angry with Nora, had planned to boycott Nora’s party and have her own. But after much pressure from their shared group of friends—and the realization that Nora’s party was such an institution that no one would show up at Henny’s—she caved and agreed to go to Nora’s after all.
“Are we taking one car or two?” Stephanie asked. She was dressed in a tank top and Daisy Dukes.
“We’re taking two cars,” Lauren said. “One for us, and one for Mom’s doughnuts.”
Stephanie laughed.
“Okay, very funny. And to answer your question, we can take one car.”
“And Dad’s not coming back today? I can’t believe he’s blowing off the Fourth,” Stephanie said. It was true; their dad loved the holiday. When they were little, he had been the one to drive them to Narberth Park to see the fireworks if they weren’t at the shore. And when they were at the beach, he would give them turns sitting on his shoulders to watch the display. “What’s going on?”
“We’re just taking a little time apart,” Beth said. “A little space.”
“Space?” Stephanie said, incredulous. As confused as if Beth had said outer space.
“Come on, girls, let’s go. You know I hate being the last one to a party.”
Nora’s front lawn was festooned with American flags, her trees decorated with red, white, and blue streamers. The front porch welcomed guests with robust bundles of star-spangled balloons. A few people milled around, and the front door was open.
“Happy Fourth of July!” Nora, dressed in a red, white, and blue patchwork dress, hugged Lauren before bending down to greet Ethan.
“Thanks for having us,” Beth said, handing Nora the first of five trays of doughnuts.
“These look fantastic,” Nora said.
“You remember my sister, Stephanie,” Lauren said.
“Hi, hon. Welcome!”
Stephanie, looking distracted, just nodded.
“I’ll take these gorgeous confections to the kitchen so they aren’t devoured before dessert. The hot dogs and hamburgers are grilling as we speak, April brought her vodka watermelon, and we have both red and white sangria.”
Beth whispered something to Stephanie, and Lauren guessed it was a reminder not to drink too much. Music played, 1970s stuff.
Stephanie, with Ethan in tow, followed Lauren to the back deck.
“What’s the deal with Mom and Dad?” Stephanie said.
“I don’t know. I guess they’re having problems.”
“About what?”
“Stephanie, I just told you, I don’t know.”
“He hasn’t said anything about it to me.”
“Why would he?” Lauren said. Yes, Stephanie and their father had always been close, but that didn’t mean he would confide in her about his marital problems.
“I really thought he’d be back by now. They’re basically spending the summer apart.”
“It’s only the beginning of July.”
“Do you think they’re going to get divorced?”
Lauren was surprised to see Stephanie this worked up. She so rarely seemed to think of anyone except herself. But Lauren supposed it was true what people said: no one, no matter how old—or, in Stephanie’s case, how self-absorbed—wants to see her parents split up.
This, at least, was something she and her sister had in common. But she didn’t want to discuss it in the middle of a crowded party. Across the deck, Henny spotted her and waved.
“I’m going to say hi to a friend,” Lauren said. She looked down at Ethan, touching his shoulder to get his attention. “Are you hungry?”
“Do you know a lot of people here?” Stephanie asked, staying close to Lauren as she weaved through the crowd.
“Some. Most of these people are regulars from the café.”
“Who do you spend time with all winter long?” Stephanie asked, as if it had just dawned on her that Lauren actually lived in this town.
“My friends,” she said defensively. Lauren had no interest in introducing Stephanie to Henny or April, knowing how odd her sister would find it that her friends were all thirty years her senior, divorced or widowed and living alone. Lauren’s fate mapped out by association. “Come on, I need food.”
They followed the crowd to a line forming at the barbecue that was manned by…Matt?
“What’s he doing here?” Stephanie said, stopping in her tracks.
“He rented a room from one of Nora’s friends. She must have invited him.”
Lauren hadn’t seen him since the day of the second interview, weeks ago. She’d gone into that conversation reluctantly, but once she’d started talking to Matt, it felt surprisingly painless. Matt hadn’t pushed her to discuss Rory’s head injuries. She’d been able to bring up some good times—stories about the Rory she wanted the world to remember. And when she got home that night, she felt lighter, unburdened. It was like free therapy.
She felt so positive about it, in fact, that she’d texted him the following morning to see if he had gotten everything he needed during the interview. He wrote back that she’d done great and that he was leaving for New York for a “family obligation.” And then, nothing.
Since then, she’d tried to put the film out of her mind, but she found herself thinking about Matt a lot, wondering if he would contact her again.
Now, apparently, he was back.
Matt gave her a friendly wave.
“I’m really not in the mood for this. I’m going home,” Stephanie said.
“What? No. We just got here. Go get something to eat. I’ll keep an eye on Ethan.”
Stephanie hesitated and then walked back inside the house. Lauren took Ethan by the hand. “What do you like better, hamburgers or hot dogs?”
The line for food moved quickly. When it was their turn, Lauren felt herself smiling shyly.
“Hey there! Happy Fourth,” Matt said. His time away from the beach showed in his pale face.
“Happy Fourth. When did you get back?”
“Just yesterday. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
“Oh, not a problem,” she said.
Ethan stared at the hot dogs with longing. Matt, with his filmmaker’s eye, didn’t miss a thing. He quickly stuffed one in a bun. “Hey, buddy. Mustard and ketchup right in that corner.” He handed it to Ethan.
“Gran says hot dogs are bad for you,” Ethan said, looking up at Lauren.
“Just one won’t hurt,” Lauren said with a wink. She was an aunt—she was allowed to indulge him, right? Aunts were just a notch down from grandmothers in the kid-spoiling hierarchy.
Stephanie marched over, glaring. What, did she have a problem with hot dogs too?
“Ethan, come with me. Someone brought a puppy and it’s out front,” she said.
And then Lauren realized Stephanie’s dagger eyes were aimed at Matt.
Beth, at Nora’s invitation, joined her in the kitchen for a glass of sangria. The table was covered with Beth’s trays of doughnuts. Nora had already tried one of each variety.
“I have to say, Beth, these doughnuts are truly outstanding,” Nora said. “Do you bake professionally?”
Beth smiled. “I used to, years ago. Before I got married I worked for a catering company in Philadelphia.”
“Why’d you stop? The long hours?”
“No, it wasn’t the hours. My husband’s family had their own business and he wanted me to work with him there. Retail. I just started baking again this summer as an activity with my grandson.”
“Well, you must miss catering if you’re baking this many doughnuts for a backyard barbecue,” Nora said.
Beth laughed. “No, no—that was just miscommunication between Lauren and me. She said originally that we were going to two parties.”
“Ah, yes. She told you about the falling-out with my friend Henny?”
“Not in detail.”
Nora shook her head. “I made a business decision, and she took it personally. You and your husband are in sales—you understand. Sometimes you have to sell everything you’ve got. Even the four walls.”
Beth nodded, although she wasn’t sure exactly what Nora was talking about.
“Well, I really appreciate you giving Lauren a job. I know what a difference it made in her life back when she first moved here full-time.”
“Are you kidding? I’m lucky to have her. She’s a wonderful young woman. I have to say, I wish I could do more for her.”
“More?”
“You know. Helping her get on with her life in other ways. I’m sure you feel the same. It just seems, I hate to say, your daughter is frozen.” And then, seeing the stricken look on Beth’s face, she said, “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I overstep?”
“No, no. Not at all,” Beth said quickly. “It’s just…I don’t have anyone to really talk to about this. My husband thinks I need to push her more. My friends feel sorry for me, for her, and they tell me it just takes time. But I don’t see time helping one bit.”
Nora poured more sangria into both of their glasses. She’d served the drinks in cute little mason jars. “I have to agree with you on that one, Beth.”
Beth gulped her drink, looking out the window at her beautiful daughter standing surrounded by people yet alone on the deck.
Matt took a break from the grill, a glass of sangria in hand. The sudden rush of socializing overwhelmed him after the quiet, intense few weeks back in New York. First, a quick visit home for his father’s birthday. As his parents’ only remaining son, he simply couldn’t miss some things. Then a seemingly endless string of days and nights in the editing suite in Brooklyn.
The film’s narrative had developed a life of its own, branching off in directions he hadn’t expected. He’d first come to Longport to finish it, and now it was as if he were just beginning. He’d considered turning down Henny’s invite to the party, but he’d reconsidered when he realized Lauren would probably be there. He’d been wondering how to pick up the conversation in a natural way, and the party was the perfect opening.
He leaned over the wooden ledge of the deck, looking out at the bay. A boat sped by, breaking the no-wake rule. But it was a holiday, and there was a feeling of—well, if not lawlessness, something slightly edgy in the air.
Someone slipped up next to him. Stephanie.
“Oh, hey there. Happy Fourth,” he said.
“Save it,” she snapped. “What are you even doing here?”
“I was invited,” he said carefully, not sure where the hostility was coming from. “Did I do something to upset you?”
“You took advantage of me,” she said, her voice low, glancing around. “I was drunk, and you pushed me and pushed me until I said something I shouldn’t have said. And I want you to forget I said it.”
“I didn’t push you. We were having a conversation. And I can’t just forget it.”
She shifted on her feet, agitated. “Are you going to tell my sister?”
“I’m not here to get involved in your personal life, Stephanie. Not yours, not your sister’s. I’m just trying to make a movie about Rory. The truth about his life is all I care about.”
“Are you going to put what I said in the movie?”
“I can’t put it in the movie unless you or someone else says it on camera.” He almost wished Stephanie hadn’t told him. When had it happened? Why had Rory done it? Guys cheated, of course. But to sleep with Lauren’s sister? Was the transgression just another manifestation of his personality changes from the head injuries? That was the only thing he really wanted to know. “Can I ask you something? Was he married to her at the time?”
“No,” Stephanie said quickly, eager to absolve herself of at least that level of betrayal. “And I warned her not to marry him.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I mean, I didn’t tell her why I was saying not to trust him—I couldn’t.”
“Let me interview you on camera one more time,” he said.
“No fucking way.”
Lauren spotted Stephanie and Matt in heated conversation. What on earth was that all about?
“Let’s go find Gran,” she said to Ethan. She led him to the picnic table on the front lawn where her mother and Nora were busy laying out a buffet spread of dessert, and then she quickly headed back alone to the perplexing tête-à-tête by the water.
Matt and Stephanie didn’t notice her walking over, not even when she was close enough to touch Stephanie’s shoulder.
“Am I interrupting something?” Lauren said, and from the look on Stephanie’s face, she saw that she was. But what? There had been a time, not so long ago, when she would have freaked out. But she felt in a better place with her sister. She trusted her.
“No,” Stephanie said. “I’m just getting ready to leave.”
“Why? Everyone’s going to head over to the fireworks soon.”
“Where’s Ethan?”
“Out front with Mom.”
Stephanie brushed past her without another word.
Lauren looked at Matt. “What was that all about?”
“I’m busy enough trying to figure out your late husband. I can’t begin to decode your sister,” he said.
Lauren didn’t know how to respond except to say, “Yeah. That makes two of us.” And then, “So how’s the film going?”
“It’s going.” He held up his empty mason jar. “I need a refill. Care to join me?”
As they weaved their way through the crowd to the kitchen, Lauren had a faint, shimmering memory of a house party years ago. She was following Rory, feeling like she would lose him, but then he had reached a hand behind his back and found hers without even looking.
A few people recognized her from the restaurant and greeted her with intoxicated smiles. She felt a sudden urge to be very drunk, an impulse she rarely gave in to. The temporary high was not worth the crash that always followed. But it was a holiday, and she felt an unusually strong desire to share in the feelings of revelry around her. She wanted, just for an hour, to be like everyone else.
In the kitchen, five-gallon glass dispensers were filled with red or white sangria.
“Restaurateurs really know how to throw parties,” Matt said. “Pick your poison.” She pointed to the red, and he filled two large plastic cups.
Someone behind her touched her arm.
“Hey there, stranger.”
Neil Hanes smiled, standing a little too close to her for comfort. He looked at her with an intimacy that suggested much more than their innocent evening of dinner with her parents and conversation justified.
“Oh, hi. What are you doing here?” She hadn’t meant for it to sound ungracious, but she really couldn’t imagine how he ended up at Nora’s house.
“Your mother invited me,” he said.
Matt moved closer, passing her a cup. “Hey,” Matt said, holding out a hand to Neil. “Matt Brio.”
“Neil Hanes,” he said with a flicker of recognition. “Have we met?”
“I saw you at Robert’s.”
“Right!” Neil said. Lauren looked between them, confused. “You a summer guy, Matt? Or year-round?”
“Neither,” Matt said. “I’m just passing through.”
“So, how do you two know each other?” Neil said.
“You ask a lot of questions,” Matt said. Lauren looked at him gratefully.
“Blame it on the sangria.” Neil smiled, raising his glass. He turned to Lauren, his back to Matt. “Are your parents here? I didn’t see them. I want to say hi.”
“Um, my mother is here. Somewhere.” She looked around, not seeing her. “Somewhere,” she repeated with a shrug. Neil touched her arm, and she recoiled.
Matt, not one to miss a thing, moved between the two of them. “Neil, when you find her mother, just let her know that Lauren headed over to the fireworks early. Nice seeing you again.”
Lauren looked at him in surprise. He took her gently by the arm and led her through the kitchen and out the back door. They threaded their way through the people on the deck and down the flight of wooden stairs to the driveway.
“What was that about?” Lauren said, smiling.
“I don’t like that guy.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“I think you feel the same way I do.”
“Oh, he’s fine. He’s a family friend.”
“You can do better.”
Lauren stopped walking. “There’s nothing going on between us.”
Matt shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
“I should go back to the party,” she said.
“Why?”
She realized she couldn’t think of one good reason.