Elin Hilderbrand - Nantucket Nights

Someone touched Kayla’s back.

She whipped around. It was Jacob Anderson, one of Raoul’s workers. Jacob had curly dark hair and green eyes, and he looked absurdly handsome in jeans and work boots. When Kayla saw him, she thought, Illicit affair, and her face burned.

“Jacob,” she said. “You startled me.”

“Did I?” he said. Jacob had the alarming quality of speaking to every woman, including her-the boss’s wife-like she was a woman.

Kayla cleared her throat. “Is, uh… is Raoul here?”

Jacob shook his curly head. He was wearing a baseball hat backwards, and the curls at his forehead, underneath the plastic strap, were damp with sweat.

“He went into town to see about something.”

“Into town?”

“Yeah, that’s what he said. He said he wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone.”

“Oh,” Kayla said. Her forehead wrinkled, and she knew it wasn’t attractive, so she raised her eyebrows trying to smooth it. There was no reason to be concerned; Raoul probably had twenty reasons to go into town-building department, the post office, the bank. “So he went into town and you don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“That’s right.” Jacob smiled at her-a charming, boyish smile. “Can I show you around the house?”

“Thanks, but I’ve seen it already,” Kayla said. “Raoul gave me the tour a few weeks ago.”

“I’ve been trimming out one of the bedrooms,” Jacob said. “Okay, listen to this-each guest room is plumbed for its own washer and dryer. Rumor has it Mrs. Ting doesn’t want the linens to get mixed up.” He shook his head. “It blows my mind what people will spend their money on. A washer and dryer in each room, fancy sheets for each bed, and a dancing troupe of cleaning girls to do the work. I’m lucky if I have time to change my sheets at home once a summer.”

“I know what you mean,” Kayla said. A picture of Jacob’s rumpled bed presented itself in her mind. “Listen, I should go.”

“Let me show you upstairs,” Jacob said. “It’s come a long way since you were here before.”

“Another time,” Kayla said.

“Oh, Kayla, you’re breaking my heart,” Jacob said. Then he did an unbelievable thing. He reached out and touched Kayla’s lip. She thought, He’s going to kiss me. And she wondered where the rest of the crew was-it was a big house, the closest person could be a hundred feet away-but then Jacob lifted his finger from her lip and held it up for her to see, “Potato chip,” he said, and sure enough, there was a fleck of Lay’s potato chip on his fingertip.

Kayla exhaled. There was moisture under her arms. “Guilty as charged,” she said, and she carefully moved herself around Jacob. “Well, when you see Raoul, tell him I stopped by.” She was almost to the entry way of the house when she remembered something else. “Oh, and Jacob?”

Jacob was still studying his fingertip. “Yeah?”

“Can you remind him that I have Night Swimmers tonight?”

“Night Swimmers?”

“That’s right. Night Swimmers. He’ll know what it means.”

“But I don’t know what it means. Is it some kind of secret society? Is it something that involves you taking your clothes off?” He licked the potato chip off his finger in an incredibly suggestive way, and Kayla was out of there with a wave because he was right on both accounts, although she surely couldn’t let him know that.

Kayla pulled out of the site, thinking about the fleck of potato chip and Jacob’s impossibly light touch and Raoul gone into town, saying he didn’t know when he’d be back. Panic rose in her as she recalled the rumors of years ago: Raoul with Pamela Ely-a leggy woman with long brown hair and an upturned nose-and then the luscious nineteen-year-old Missy Tsoulakis. The rumors were unsubstantiated, but also hard to disregard when the whole town was talking about it, and when Pamela Ely positively would not make eye contact when Kayla saw her at the Stop & Shop. For Raoul, having an affair would be as easy as telling his crew, “I’m going into town. Don’t know when I’ll be back.” Kayla’s thighs ached.

You’re being stupid and predictable, she told herself. The combination of that damn potato chip and Jacob in those paint-splattered jeans (which looked as good on him as jeans could look on a man) and Valerie cheating on her husband, John, and Antoinette, who was cheating on no one because she belonged to no one, but who hinted she’d been having crazy sex herself lately, led Kayla down this path of suspicion. There had been times in the last five years when she’d watched Raoul sleep, when she’d reached over and touched his penis, hot and erect, and she’d wondered, Is he dreaming about me? How could she ever be sure? Raoul always assured Kayla that he thought she was beautiful, but she had gained weight after four children, and she waged a constant war with herself to stay in shape. She looked okay for forty-two, but not great-certainly there were women on the island who were ten times as attractive, thanks to gyms and plastic surgery and plain, old-fashioned good genes. Kayla closed her eyes for a split second. Maybe she was too sensitive; maybe she did need one of Val’s goofy books- You’re Okay But I’m Better, Ten Steps to Your Own Uniqueness; Stop Biting Your Nails, Start Building Your Future. When Kayla opened her eyes she relaxed, because she saw Raoul’s red truck coming down Monomoy Road toward her.

They stopped in the middle of the road, Kayla in the Trooper, Raoul in his big red truck, and he turned down the radio and smiled and said, “Hi, baby.”

Kayla unfastened her seat belt and slid her body out her open window far enough to kiss him. He tasted like himself.

“Where’d you go?” she asked.

“Town Building. I had to check on some easements. I bumped into Valerie, and she reminded me about your séance tonight.”

Kayla slithered back into her car. “It’s not a séance, Raoul.”

He checked his side mirror, but no one was coming. Even in summer, two people could sit in the middle of the road and have a conversation without interruption. “I’d just love to know what you ladies do out there in the middle of the night.”

“I’m sure you would,” Kayla said. “But it’s none of your business.”

“I know, I know. It’s a woman thing. Estrogen required for inclusion,” Raoul said. “Now tell me, how did Theo seem this morning?”

“The same. I asked him if he was excited about school next week, and he didn’t answer. I asked him to pick Luke up from camp at four o’clock, and he sort of grunted.”

Raoul tapped his head against the headrest. “Tell you what. This weekend I won’t work Sunday or Monday. I’ll take Theo fishing and have a heart-to-heart with him.”

“Let’s hope that works,” she said.

“What time are you leaving tonight?” Raoul asked.

“Eleven-fifteen,” she said. “I’ll be back in the morning before you go to work.”

“Good,” he said. He kissed his fingers by way of good-bye and drove off.

It was half past three, which gave Kayla enough time to dash into the Stop & Shop for two pints of raspberries; then it was down to Fahey & Fromagerie on Pleasant Street, where she bought a hunk of pale, creamy Saint Andre cheese and two slender baguettes dusted with flour. There was a selection of olives and red peppers, marinated mushrooms and salami-the kind of special, wonderful things her kids wouldn’t eat. They also had chicken salad without too many unidentifiable chunks, and a cucumber-dill-sour cream thing and she got two pounds of each for dinner. By the time Kayla left the cheese shop, it was two minutes to four, and she had to head over to the school to spy on her sons.