Family Reunion by Nancy Thayer (ereader android .TXT) 📗

had worked at Beach Camp for a week now, and loved it. Ari enjoyed the children, liked the fresh air and sunshine, and seemed to get on well with the other counselors. She talked about them often, and Eleanor wondered, not for the first time, if Ari wished she’d had a sibling or at least a cousin.

Ari could have a cousin if Cliff would marry and have a child. Well, Cliff wouldn’t even have to marry anyone to produce a cousin for Ari. Eleanor smiled at her thoughts.

She returned to her house, poured a refreshing glass of iced tea, and settled on the deck. The moment she sat down, her cell rang. Once again, she’d forgotten to bring it out here with her. This ancient Lilly Pulitzer sundress, like many others, had no pockets. She laughed at herself and went back into the house for the phone.

“Hey, Mom,” Cliff said. “Guess what. I’m here on island. I thought I’d come out and put the air conditioner in your bedroom window.”

Eleanor thought back. Yes, it was true: After Mortimer’s death, Cliff had been the one to carry the air conditioner from the basement and install it in her room. So it was probable that he wasn’t coming out to press her about selling the house.

“That would be lovely, dear,” she said. “Will you be able to stay for lunch?”

“Sure. I’d like that. See you soon.”

Eleanor went to the kitchen to see what she could provide for lunch. Cliff was never picky about his food, unlike Alicia, who, since she was a teenager, had shunned anything with mayonnaise or red meat. Now Eleanor took the egg carton from the refrigerator. She would make curried egg salad, one of Cliff’s favorites. And yes, she had beer. She knew he liked a beer at lunch.

Well, Cliff had usually liked anything. He had been the easygoing child and the family darling. When he was a baby and a toddler, Eleanor had asked Alicia to help her by fetching a diaper or giving Cliff a bottle, because she thought this would make Alicia feel included. Instead, it had made her feel put-upon, that she had to wait hand and foot on the baby. Eleanor had tried her best not to show favoritism to her children, but when Alicia was thirteen and angry with Eleanor for simply breathing, Cliff was six and full of giggles and cuddles and charm.

On the other hand, Eleanor thought, silently arguing with herself as she had done many times before, Cliff could complain that Alicia had been their father’s favorite. Mortimer expected more of Cliff than he did of Alicia. If Alicia made a B minus on a test, Mortimer praised her. If Cliff made a B minus, Mortimer demanded to know what Cliff had done wrong. Had he not studied enough?

The watershed moment had come when Cliff was fourteen. The family was sitting at the dining room table, eating dinner.

“Mom, Dad,” Cliff said. “I’ve decided that when I’m out of college, I want to join the Peace Corps or Teach For America.”

After a moment of shocked silence, Mortimer exploded. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Dad.” Cliff spoke quietly, although his face and neck were turning red. “I want to help people. I want to do good in the world.”

Mortimer shot up from his chair. “You don’t think helping people protect their lives and property is doing good?” Mortimer demanded.

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying I want to help people who can’t find work or even food or clean water.”

“Then you’re a fool. I have worked hard to make enough money to provide my family a comfortable life. You, Cliff, have never worked—”

“I tutored students—”

Mortimer made a swiping motion. “That’s not work! You don’t have any money now and you won’t if you don’t have a decent profession! Mark my words. If you continue on this path, you will get no money from me, not for college, not even left in my will.”

“Daddy!” Alicia said, horrified.

“Mortimer,” Eleanor said angrily.

Mortimer sat down again, but his fists were clenched on the table. “You’re no son of mine,” he growled.

Cliff shoved back his chair and left the table.

Eleanor wanted to go to her son, but she knew that would divide Cliff from his father even more. She was surprised, and relieved, when Alicia ran from the table to be with her brother.

Eleanor knew that in his heart Mortimer loved his son. Mortimer had been raised in a strict, unaffectionate family, and he’d been taught to value strength and tradition. In his family, men were tough and in charge and women were always in the home behind the kitchen sink or the vacuum cleaner. Eleanor’s heart was divided between sympathy for her son and anger at her husband.

The next year, Cliff was sent away to an elite boys’ boarding school. When he graduated and went on to college, he no longer had any interest in working for the Peace Corps. He was interested only in making money. He became a real estate agent in Boston, and did well. Was Cliff happy? He seemed to be. But Eleanor was afraid that Cliff’s life was devoted to showing his father he could make a lot of money, too.

When Cliff was twelve years old, he’d broken his arm playing baseball. All that summer at the Nantucket house, Cliff had lounged on the wicker sofa on the deck, listening to Eleanor read aloud various tales of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle. She read to him because he couldn’t properly hold a book. She could have rigged up a cassette player so he could listen to a professional reader, but somehow she’d started, and it had been such a perfect way to be with her son. He’d loved the stories, and they had been together, sharing a time they’d always remember.

How Eleanor had loved Cliff when he was a little boy. He’d been so sweet, so earnest. But of course he’d changed. When he was a senior in his