Page 97 of The Book of Summer

“Should we go?” Bess asks. “The weather doesn’t look too promising.”

“Let’s wait ateensybit longer,” Palmer says. “I’m dying to play! It’s been ages. Golly I miss it.”

Bess fiddles with her pullover. This she brought from California, though she originally purchased it here. A decade or so old, it bears the Sconset Casino insignia: two crossed racquets with a seagull above.SCA, EST. 1899. It’s one of Bess’s favorite pieces of clothing, because it reminds her of Cliff House, of Sconset, and of her family. Grandma Ruby had the same one. The girl at the reservation desk does, too. They haven’t changed the style since forever.

“I guess we can wait,” Bess says. “But I have a crapload to do back at the house.”

“Understood. But come on!” Palmer nudges her leg. “We’ve barely spent any time together. What are you doing when you’re not helping Cissy pack anyway?”

“Waiting for tennis courts to dry?”

Palmer rolls her eyes, an act as rare as a pink dolphin.

“No. Seriously,” she says. “You can’t be working all the time. I know Aunt Cissy’s not!”

“You’ve got that right. Well, I’ve been doing a lot at the house. Alone.Thanks for the assist, Mom.And…” Bess pauses, she waits, she turns it over in her head. “This is kind of random, but I’ve also been seeing…”

Been seeing? It sounds wrong, like an exaggeration of what’s really gone on. Of course, Bess hasseenEvan, multiple times, when taking a very literal view of things.

“Seeing what?” Palmer asks, her interest now snagged.

“Er, I’ve hung out with Evan some,” Bess says. “You know, my high school boyfriend? Lived across the road?”

“Of course I remember Evan Mayhew. Hotter and sweeter than a peach cobbler straight out of the oven. Whew. Lucky girl. See? What did I say? You’ve already found someone else. And he’s quite thesomeone else.Hubba hubba.”

“Hubbahubba?”

“Nice work, cuz. Way to get after it.”

“Please!” Bess says, and whops her on the leg. “I’m not ‘getting after’ anything. We’re friends and I live in San Francisco, remember? Plus, I’m too smart to make the same mistake twice.”

Bess blushes, though Palmer has no idea she’s using Evan’s signature line.

“It’s been fun,” she adds. “Catching up. Getting advice from one of the few who truly understands my mom. And he’s helped me pack.”

“Helped you pack? Ooh-la-la. Sounds so veryfriendly.”

“Knock it off, P.”

“Whatever.” Palmer blows a long, straight, wispy strand of blond hair from her explosively blue eyes.

“It’s nothing,” Bess insists, though Palmer didn’t ask her to.

“Fine,” Palmer says. “If you don’t like hot guys, I really can’t help you. I’m sure he has a girlfriend anyway.”

Bess bristles at this borderline rude, entirely fair statement. She exhales.

“Probably,” Bess concedes, though her hackles are still up. “He hasn’t mentioned anyone specifically. But I saw him with some woman at the market.”

“Oh, well. You should probably ask where they’re registered,” Palmer jokes. “First stop Sconset Market, next stop the aisle. How do you know it was a girlfriend? Were they making out in front of overpriced cheese?”

“No. Nothing like that. They weren’t obvious about it.” Bess recalls how they looked between the slots in the bike rack. Her knees throb as if she’s still crouched. “She could be a friend. They weren’t holding hands or anything. Also she wasn’t that pretty.”

Palmer snorts.

“Someone’s jealous.”

“I’m not jealous! It’s just a fact.”