Chapter One Charlotte had already picked the lettuces and set them, along with the bunches of asparagus tied with twine and the mason jars of fresh-faced pansies, out on the table in a shaded spot at the end of the drive. In July, she would have to pay someone to man the farm stand, but in June not so many customers were around, and those who did come by found a table holding a wicker basket with a small whiteboard propped next to the basket. In colored chalk, the prices for the day's offerings were listed, and a note: Everything picked fresh today. Please leave the money in the basket. Thanks and blessings from Beach Grass Garden. She hadn't been cheated yet. She knew the customers thought this way of doing business was quaint, harkening back to a simpler time, and they appreciated it. Perhaps it helped them believe the world was still a safe and honest place. The day was overcast but hoeing was hot work and she had been up since four-thirty. Charlotte collapsed against the trunk of an apple tree, uncapped her water bottle, and took a long delicious drink. Nantucket had the best water on the planet: sweet, pure, and clear. It was shady in this overgrown spot, so she lifted off the floppy straw hat she wore, in addition to a heavy slathering of sunblock, and sighed in appreciation as a light breeze stirred her hair. She couldn't linger, she had too much to do. She took another long drink of water, listened to her stomach rumble, and considered returning to the house for an early lunch. When she heard the voices, she almost jumped. People were talking on Bill Cooper's side of the fence, just behind the green tangle of wild grapevines. Hunky Bill Cooper and his gorgeous girlfriend. From the tense rumble of Coop's voice and Miranda's shrill whine, they weren't happy. "Come on, Mir, don't be that way." Bill's tone was placating but rimmed with an edge of exasperation. "What way would that be?" A sob caught in Miranda's throat. "Truthful?" The moment had definitely passed, Charlotte decided, when she could clear her throat, jump up, and call out a cheerful hello. Vague snuffling sounds informed her that Bill's dogs, Rex and Regina, were nearby, nosing through the undergrowth. She thought about the layout of Bill's land: along the other side of the fence grew his everlasting raspberry bushes. The berries wouldn't be ripe yet, so Bill and Miranda must be taking the dogs for a walk as they often did. She was glad the berry bushes grew next to the fence, their prickly canes forming a barrier between Bill's land and Nona's. A tangle of grasses massed around barberry bushes was wedged against the fence, and then there were the tree trunks. They would pass by any moment now. She would keep very quiet. Otherwise it would be too embarrassing, even though she had a right and a reason to be here. "I never lied to you, Miranda. I told you I wasn't ready for a long-term commitment, especially not when you're in New York all winter." "You could come visit me." "I don't like cities," Bill argued mildly. "Well, that's pathetic. And sleeping with that--that slut--is pathetic." Miranda was striding ahead of Bill. She cried out, "Rex, you stupid, stupid dog! You almost tripped me." "Mir, simmer down." Bill sounded irritable, at the end of his patience. Miranda didn't reply but hurried into the orchard of ancient apple trees. Bill followed, crashing through the brush. Charlotte could hear a few more words--I'm not kidding! It's over, Bill!--then she heard the hum of their voices but no words, and then they were gone. "Gosh," Charlotte whispered to herself. Charlot Excerpted from Summer House by Nancy Thayer All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
