Page 19 of The Book of Summer

“I wouldn’t go that far. Listen, I have nothing against your fella. Sam’s a fine man. Attractive. Unobjectionable. That, dear Red, is the very problem.”

“That he’s attractive and unobjectionable?” She arched a brow.

“You need someone with more… gusto.”

“Gusto.”

“A little fire!” Topper said. “Some verve.”

“Right-o. A person to match my wildcat nature.”

Fact of the matter: Ruby was a damned straight arrow. Sure, she possessed a spicy tongue and had committed a few petty crimes in her day—the nicking of cigarettes and hooch while at Smith—but mostly Ruby listened to her parents, used her manners, and never went too far with any boy. Everyone found her universally delightful, a gem of a gal.

“I really should be with someone who causes a scene,” she added. “It’d be the primo fit.”

“Precisely, dear sister,” Topper said with a wink. “You’ve been too good, too protected, too damned cloistered in your ivory tower. You need someone to pitch a curveball atcha.”

He demonstrated with the ball in his hand, which thwacked against a ladies’ tennis trophy sitting on a high shelf.

“Ivory tower?” Ruby barked. “Hardly! Look around. The toilets at Cliff House only work half the time.”

“Yes, yes, you’re quite roughing it in your summer home. I’ll ask Mummy to take up a collection at church.”

“You’re a real gagster. Golly, it’ll be a nice change to live with a well-mannered gentleman for once.”

Ruby’s thoughts drifted back outside, where glassware clinked and groups of men bustled about the grounds. Her eyes flicked down to the long, white table that divided the lawn in two. Three dozen small, round tables flanked it, their umbrellas spinning and dancing in the wind.

“Here’s the thing,” Topper said as Ruby glanced back toward her dress. “Sam’s a swell guy but it’s like he’s following a script. You need someone more… his own man.”

“Sam is very much his own man,” Ruby said, though did not strictly know.

“Ruby!” said a voice from the hallway, a caw followed by three sharp pecks on the door.

“Oh brother,” Ruby muttered.

It was P.J.’s new wife, Mary. A real cold fish that one, an utter snore.

“Ruby!” Mary warbled again. “Mama Young sent me to check on you.”

“I’mfine.Almost ready.”

“Lovely! Have you seen Robert?”

Topper pressed a finger to his lips, all the while chortling behind it.

“Yes, he’s in here,” Ruby said. “Helping me get dressed.”

“Ruby Genevieve!” Mary screeched. “That is sickeningly inappropriate. I just… I don’t even…”

“Then don’t.”

“I can’t!”

Mary huffed and stomped several more times before turning on her toes and marching back to “Mama Young.”

“That woman,” Ruby growled.

“Oh she’s not so bad.”