Summer House by Nancy Thayer Page A

gazed down at her great-granddaughter. Zoe’s skin had the smooth iridescence of the inside of a shell. She remembered this luminous skin from her own babies. Zoe was awake and looking around, puckering her mouth as if she were about to pronounce judgment on what she saw. When her eyes fastened on Nona’s, she smiled a toothless baby smile.
    “You darling,” Nona whispered, stroking the baby’s soft face with her gnarled, wrinkled old witch’s finger. She remembered this, too, from when her grandchildren were babies, how infants could somehow see past the disfigurements of age to the love within.
    Claus entered the room. Tall, thin, Scandinavian, he gave off the nervous energy of a purebred borzoi. “I was going to ask you to look after Christian, but I see Mandy got to you first. I need to bring in the co-sleeper for Zoe.” He looked hopelessly burdened.
    Kellogg appeared. “I’ll bring in the co-sleeper. Which room did you take? Come on, Christian, let Grandpop give you a ride.” He swept the four-year-old up onto his shoulders. “Nona, we’re going through the mudroom, okay? It’s closer to the cars.”
    Mellie waddled in and collapsed in a nearby wing chair. “I have the worst heartburn! I never dreamed pregnancy could be such a torment!”
    “We have baking soda in the kitchen,” Nona told her. “Mix some with a glass of water. It works wonders.”
    “Baking soda! Nona, you just have no idea the ferocity of this heartburn! Baking soda wouldn’t touch it. I’ve tried every over-the-counter medication there is; I live on Rolaids and Tums.” Her husband passed through the hallway, lugging duffel bags. Spotting him, Mellie said loudly, “I just wish Dougie had to experience some of what I’m going through. I just wish he could experience it for one day. ”
    “Mmm,” Nona agreed vaguely. “Mother Nature always was unfair.”
    Grace came in, wiping her hands on an embroidered kitchen hand towel that Nona’s mother-in-law had once used. “Glorious and I aremaking several gallons of iced tea. We’re all so thirsty. I assume no one wants a real drink, not until evening, right?”
    Claus, wrestling two bulging duffel bags into the hall, stopped at the bottom step. “No alcohol for me. I want to play tennis this afternoon.”
    Behind him, Kellogg was struggling with the co-sleeper. “Yes, and I want to get the boat into the water.”
    The two men toiled up the stairs with their heavy burdens.
    “Okay, iced tea it is,” Grace told them, and went off.
    I could use an alcoholic beverage , Nona thought but did not say. So many people needing so many things.
    It was different with Charlotte. She was just one person, and she cared about Nona’s pleasure. Nona had found Charlotte good company over the past three years, while Charlotte lived in the attic and worked in her garden. Charlotte always made time to stop and chat with Nona, and she made the long winter months deliciously cozy, building a roaring fire, making cocoa from scratch, playing backgammon or cards with Nona. Also she had discovered a trove of brilliant British films on DVDs at the local library, and Friday nights had become their “date night,” when they sat together in the den, watching movies and eating a delicious and completely disreputable meal of pizza and ice cream. All that played havoc with Nona’s bowels the next day, but it was too delightful an occasion to give up.
    Other than that, Charlotte did not really impinge on Nona’s sensibilities. If she played music, she did so either on her headphones while she worked in the garden or up in the attic, from where the sound did not travel. Charlotte also had her computer up there, and a television of her own, so she did not interrupt Nona’s routine.
    Glorious had a large room on the far side of the kitchen, fitted out with a big new TV and a small sofa as well as a comfortable bed and private bath. Glorious had many friends in town and loved to socialize—needed to, Nona