Elin Hilderbrand - The Rumor

“Because you can’t,” Allegra said. “Because I don’t have any talents. Because I’m a mean-hearted, cheating, lying tramp.”

“Oh, stop it,” Hope said. “You made a mistake, is all. We’re young. We’re supposed to make mistakes, learn from them, and move on.”

“Tell me one good thing about myself,” Allegra said. “Please? One thing.”

“You have a great sense of style,” Hope said.

Allegra was quiet. Her eyes closed. “You’re right,” she said. “I do.”

Hope would have guessed that Allegra’s newfound humility would be short lived and that by the end of the first day of shame, she would have tired of Hope’s company. But on the second week, Allegra had managed to score a volunteer job at the Weezie Library for Children, shelving books part time. Their mother was so pleased that she suggested lunch at the Galley, just the three of them. Allegra not only agreed but actually seemed excited. Excited to be seen in public with Grace and Hope? Well, it would get her out of the house-she would be relieved about that, maybe-and the Galley was fancy, so she would have a chance to dress up. Hope wore her strapless Lilly Pulitzer dress with the turquoise-and-white butterfly print. Allegra wore a jade-green patio dress from Tbags Los Angeles and a pair of Dolce Vita gladiator sandals. Hope had French braided her hair, but Allegra did some messy half-up, half-down style right out of Vogue.

“It’s really not fair how beautiful you are,” Hope said.

Allegra actually seemed embarrassed. “You look just like me,” she said. “We’re identical twins.”

“Except you’re Alice,” Hope said, “and I’m the Dormouse.”

“Stop,” Allegra said. She lifted the end of Hope’s braid and tickled Hope’s nose with it. “We can both be Alice.”

Lunch at the Galley was fun and special, despite Grace announcing every five minutes how fun and special it was. Grace took their picture at the entrance to the beautiful beachfront restaurant, and then, once they were all seated, she had their waiter take a photo of the three of them.

“These are my twin girls,” Grace announced, loudly enough for half the restaurant to hear. “I can’t believe how lucky I am today. This is so special.”

Hope turned to Allegra to shoot an eye roll, but Allegra was smiling at their mother in earnest.

???? Hope thought. Allegra seemed totally into the mother-daughter-daughter luncheon. It was weird. A month ago, if Grace had suggested this outing, Allegra would have flat-out refused. Or if Grace had guilted or threatened her enough, she would have sat sullenly at the table and texted the entire time.

Of course, now there was no phone and no one to text.

Grace ordered a glass of white wine, Allegra a Diet Coke, Hope an iced tea. They did a cheers. Grace said, “This is so fun! This is so, so special. Thank you for joining me.”

“You don’t have to thank us for coming to lunch with you,” Allegra said. “You’re our mother.”

Maybe Allegra is being nice in an attempt to become ungrounded, Hope thought. She was doing such a good job, it might actually work.

Grace ordered the gazpacho and the Gruyère-and-spring-onion omelet. Allegra ordered the lobster salad. Hope ordered the mixed greens with blueberries and goat cheese, and a side of fries. They were seated with a view overlooking the white beach, the lifeguard stand, the blue, green, and yellow umbrellas of Cliffside, and the placid blue water of Nantucket Sound. Sailboats dotted the horizon, and the steamship cut its way over to Hyannis. A breeze lifted the lip of the awning.

“As I’m sure you probably know,” Grace said, “the Boston Globe is coming to do a photo shoot and feature article on our garden next week. So Benton will be around a lot to help me get the garden ready.”

Allegra said, “Benton who?”

“Mom’s gardener,” Hope said. “He’s the one who gave me Lolita.”

“I really like that book,” Allegra said. “I mean, it’s disturbing, but it’s holding my interest. What are you reading, Hope?”

Hope said, “House of Mirth, Edith Wharton.”

Grace said, “I read that a million years ago, during my freshman year at Holyoke.”

“Maybe I’ll read that next,” Allegra said.

Hope thought, Where’s my sister?

They ordered a brownie sundae with three spoons, and Grace got a cappuccino and the check. As Grace paid the bill, Allegra nudged Hope under the table. Mrs. Kraft, their English teacher, was headed straight for them.

“Look at the lovely Pancik ladies lunching,” Mrs. Kraft said. She beamed at the table.

Grace stood up and gave Mrs. Kraft an air kiss. “Hello, Ruth.”

Hope wondered if she and Allegra would be expected to greet Mrs. Kraft in such a manner. Air kiss her English teacher? She couldn’t bring herself to do anything but wave. Ruth Kraft-all the kids called her Ruthie behind her back-had a cumulus cloud of frizzy brown hair. She had been trained as an opera singer, and her classroom trademark was to belt out those phrases to which she wanted to give emphasis. Allegra, especially, liked to imitate her.

Shall I compare theeeeeeeeeee to a summer’s daaaaaaaaaay!

Mrs. Kraft had given Allegra a D, but there was Allegra, beaming an angelic smile anyway, saying, “Hiya, Mrs. Kraft!”

Mrs. Kraft said, “And how’s our summer going?” Something about the way she sang it out made it sound like she was fishing for information. Was it possible that Mrs. Kraft had heard about Allegra getting caught drinking and smoking pot while modeling her underwear for Ian Coburn? If Mrs. Kraft knew, then it was official: everyone knew. Had Mrs. Kraft seen the photo? Hope felt seriously bad for her sister. News like that would quickly make its way around the faculty room in the fall, and Allegra would have no one to ask for letters of recommendation. Last week, Hope would have found this gratifying. But now, she and Allegra were like the Corsican Brothers; someone kicked Allegra in the shin, and Hope felt the pain.

“The girls were just talking about all the books they’ve been reading,” Grace said.

“Speaking of reading!” Mrs. Kraft said. She turned her attention now to Grace. “Have you heard about the new Madeline King novel? It’s supposed to be quite scandalous.”

“I haven’t heard a thing,” Grace said. And with a hand motion like the one Father Declan used at Mass, she indicated that the girls should both stand up. “I’ve been busy with the garden and the hens.”

“I just figured you would know about it,” Mrs. Kraft said. “Since you and Madeline are such close friends.”

“Actually,” Grace said, “Madeline and I aren’t speaking at the moment.”

This seemed to throw Mrs. Kraft for a loop-de-loop. She answered in a normal speaking voice. “Oh, I’m so sorry… open mouth, insert espadrille. I should never have brought it up.”

Grace smiled ruefully and fiddled with the clasp of her purse. “Probably not.”

Hope studied her mother. She wasn’t speaking to Madeline? This was outrageous news, so outrageous that Hope thought her mother was lying-but then she realized that there had been an absence the past week or so; her mother hadn’t been locked in her study on the phone with Madeline, like she usually was. Was it because of what had happened between Allegra and Brick? Or was it because Grace was so engrossed by Benton and the garden? Every once in a while, it occurred to Hope that her mother was a human being with her own complicated set of emotions. She wondered if Grace and Madeline had had a fight, like Allegra and Hollis. But weren’t Grace and Madeline too old for that kind of behavior?

Hope shifted her weight. She wanted to tell Mrs. Kraft to buzz off, go sing her arias or recite her sonnets, leave their mother alone. As if sharing this very same thought, Allegra spoke up.

“It was nice to see you, Mrs. Kraft. Enjoy your lunch.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Kraft said. She seemed so taken aback by this polite rebuff from her worst student that she wobbled on the wedge heels of her espadrilles. “Yes, thank you, I will.”

Hope gave Mrs. Kraft a second little wave-this one of farewell-and followed her mother and sister out of the restaurant.

Nantucket had a week of heat, and when Grace said heat she meant temperatures in the high eighties and low nineties. It was hot enough that the girls would come home from their volunteer jobs and jump right into the pool and Grace would stay inside with the central air-conditioning cranked unless she was tending the chickens or Benton was around.

Benton came only for a perfunctory hour, and he was all business. He couldn’t stay for lunch or for any other reason. His other gardens were in crisis, he said.

Because of the heat.

Then the heat broke, and they got two and a half days of relentless, pounding rain.

On the first rainy day, Benton texted: Not coming today. Staying home to catch up on paperwork.

Grace curled up in bed and fought off a migraine. Was she really going to consider leaving Eddie for this man?

The second day, he texted, Not coming today. Doing bills. BTW, I have a substantial one for Eddie, you might want to warn him?

Migraine. Grace thought, Not coming today to see the woman you love, or your pet project; sending Eddie a substantial bill, which would send Eddie through the roof. He was still complaining about Hester Phan’s fee, and when Grace had broached the matter of Madeline and Trevor’s fifty thousand dollars, Eddie had glared at Grace and said, Honestly, Grace, what do you think I do all day?

Madeline hadn’t responded to Grace’s voice mail, and Grace began to worry that she’d done further damage to the relationship. She went back and forth between believing that Madeline was writing a novel about her and Benton-Two of the women at this table will betray the person on their left-and thinking that it was just a bad rumor cooked up by Blond Sharon.