Nan Rossiter: The Gin and Chowder Club

About this same time, Nate’s grandfather, Abe Shepherd, had started an accounting firm for upscale businesses in the Boston area. Because of his name, everyone assumed Abe to be trustworthy. His reputation and his business grew, so when Josiah Coleman’s woodworking business started to bring in more income than he could manage, he decided to seek the services of someone who knew about such matters. His customers recommended Abe Shepherd.

When Abe and Josiah shook hands for the first time, the conversation that followed seemed more like a reunion of two old friends than of two newly acquainted businessmen. Abe and Josiah found that they had a great deal in common, and as their meeting drew to a close, they agreed to meet again in a more social setting. The following Friday evening, they met in Haymarket for drinks. Hungry after a long day, they also ordered chowder, and the conversation turned to old family recipes. After much good-natured wrangling, it was decided that a contest was in order. Abe suggested that Josiah bring his wife and young son out to his family’s summerhouse in Orleans. Josiah agreed. The two men would cook for their wives and have the ladies judge who made the best chowder.

As it turned out, the women loved both the men’s efforts and couldn’t decide between them. Abe and Josiah reluctantly conceded that both chowders were indeed delicious. They decided to try combining the ingredients of the two recipes, and the resulting creation was rich and creamy and full of clams-and became the legendary chowder recipe. The social gatherings of the two families and their friends became known as the Gin and Chowder Club.

Spending time at the Shepherds’ summerhouse, Josiah and his wife fell in love with the ocean and decided to find a place of their own. After looking at several old homes, they finally settled on a rambling center-chimney Cape overlooking the rugged coast in nearby Eastham. The house had a commanding view of the shoreline and of the neighboring lighthouse. This view had been the real selling point, because the house itself, although charming, was weathered and in great need of repair. Its rambling yard was enclosed by a broken picket fence whose main support was an overgrown wild rosebush that was covered with a profusion of pink blossoms. The old-fashioned gardens surrounding the house also reflected years of neglect, but a plethora of blue hydrangea bushes, daylilies, black-eyed Susan, and bee balm made it evident that someone had once cared very much. Despite the house’s run-down appearance, Josiah and his wife saw only potential and bought it without a second thought.

In the years that followed, it was only natural that, growing up together and spending summers on the Cape, Josiah Coleman’s son Eli and Abe Shepherd’s son Lincoln would forge a friendship of their own and would later carry on the businesses and traditions of their fathers. These were eventually passed down to their sons Samuel and Nate.

Nate and Noelle arrived home shortly before eleven. In the old days, Nate recalled, the gatherings had lasted until the early hours of the morning. The group had been a little wilder back then too. Now they were all slowing down. Ah, well, they were all a little wiser too, he thought.

As they pulled into the sandy drive that wound into the secluded setting, Noelle looked up at the silhouette of the house’s bowed roof and its massive center chimney. They had forgotten to leave on an outside light, but the full moon brightly illuminated the grounds and pool.

“How ’bout a swim?” Noelle asked.

Nate laughed. “It’s a bit late, don’t you think?”

“C’mon, it’ll feel good,” Noelle said. “I’ll even wear your favorite outfit.”

“That’s very tempting,” Nate replied, “but you must remember-you’re married to an old man.”

Nate parked the car, and they walked toward the back garden. Noelle reached for Nate’s hand. “Well, perhaps you can get a towel for me, then,” she said, not willing to give up so easily.

“That,” he replied, “I can do.”

When Nate returned with a towel, he saw Noelle’s dress draped over the wooden gate. Inside the gate, dropped enticingly along the stone patio, was a trail of undergarments.

“I have your towel, miss,” he called.

“Thank you, sir. And by the way, it’s ‘Mrs.’,” she called from the far end of the pool. She was standing on the diving board in the moonlight, and he took it all in, feeling himself become aroused.

“It’s definitely the quiet ones you have to look out for,” he said to himself.

“What’s that?” she called.

“Just remembering how prim and proper I once thought you were,” Nate called back, sitting on a lounge chair. Noelle dove into the pool without even a splash. She came up and slowly swam toward him.

“But I am prim and proper-for a married woman,” she said, standing up in the shallow end, streams of water cascading down her smooth skin.

“Where in the world are your tan lines?” Nate asked, his eyes playing over every inch of the view, his mind loving every word of the playful banter.

“You don’t get any when you have such a private sunny spot,” she replied. “Are you sure you won’t join me?”

“I’m sure. I don’t want to get wet,” he said, smiling. “I’ll dry, though-when you’re ready, of course.” He hoped her swim wasn’t over. “How ’bout a few more dives? I’d be happy to judge them.”

“I’m sure you would,” she said, arching her back and stroking toward the other end.

Nate watched her as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the soft curly silver hair that covered his lean chest and abdomen. He was not ashamed of the shape he was in. In fact, for fifty, he thought he was pretty trim. He leaned back in his chair and loosened his pants. Noelle stepped onto the diving board. She reached her arms straight over her head, completely uninhibited, and dove smoothly again.

When she came up, Nate teased her. “Nine and a half. Always room for improvement-better try again.”

She laughed and dove in a couple more times. Finally, Nate said, “Now, that was perfect.”

Noelle swam to the steps and walked toward him. Nate held the towel open, and Noelle just stood in front of him. He slowly dried her legs and abdomen and just enjoyed looking. He reached up to softly dry her breasts, and Noelle watched his eyes. She slipped her leg over the lounge chair, and Nate leaned back. He dropped the towel to the ground, slid his hands onto her hips, and gently pulled her down. She moved slowly back and forth, teasing him. Together they watched the slow movement between their bodies until Noelle caught her breath.

“You’re wrong,” he murmured. “I’m the lucky one.”

Asa was up early the next morning. In the gray half-light, he glanced over at his brother. Even though they had been home before midnight, they hadn’t gotten much sleep; instead, they had lain on their beds and talked into the night. Isaac was torn between an old love named Jen from summers past and a new one he had met in college. Jen had been at the beach the night before, and seeing her again had rekindled the flame. Isaac’s new love, due to absence, had lost the advantage. Asa could offer little advice. He had always believed that if a person truly loved another, there could be no one else, but now he wasn’t so sure. Is it possible to love two people?

Asa silently pulled on his shorts and went downstairs. Martha was curled up on her bed, but when she saw Asa, she thumped her tail and rolled onto her back to have her belly scratched. Asa obliged and then let her out and fed her. He left a note saying that he had done so, gave her a kiss on the head, and quietly slipped outside. A fog had rolled in during the night, and Asa could only see the shaft of light from the lighthouse slicing through the mist. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, stretched, and jogged slowly down the road toward the beach. As he trotted down the steps, he couldn’t see the water; he could only hear the waves. The ocean air was thick and heavy with moisture. He recalled how clear and bright the night before had been and couldn’t believe what a difference a few hours made. As he headed toward the hard, wet sand along the water’s edge, he passed the dark, smoldering site of their fire and thought of the tranquility of sitting there alone, remembering. Now, as he ran, he allowed his mind to replay the memory again…