Chapter 34
Trying to soften the blow, she added, “I think I’m supposed to be the designated driver, or something. And I’m only in town for a few days, but hey, thanks for asking.”
“Thanks for turning me down so nicely,” he joked. “You could’ve said eff off, so I appreciate it.”
Heading back down the boardwalk the way she’d come, Tara ducked into the first shop she found. It sold trinkets and knickknacks, mostly made from carved driftwood and seashells, everything labeled with Wildwood by the Seaand, in tiny print on the bottom, Made in China.Of course. The T-shirts were all airbrushed and might have been hanging there since the last time she was on the boardwalk, twenty years earlier. She stayed in the store until she was sure the waiter had returned to Cap’n Jack’s…and until the cashier behind the counter started giving her dirty looks.
On her way out, she lingered over the puka shell jewelry on the counter. She’d always thought the necklaces were pretty, even though they had become cliché and synonymous with surfer culture. Not that there were many surfers in Wildwood, or rather, none that she’d seen. She didn’t think the Atlantic Ocean’s waves were quite the same as those on the west coast, but what did she know?
Then she saw a white puka shell necklace with a row dyed shells along the front. Six shells, one in each color of the rainbow. Nothing overt, but none too subtle, either. To someone in the know, the necklace loudly proclaimed gay. Removing it from the display, she handed it to the cashier. “This, please,” she said.
The cashier flashed her a toothy grin. “Good choice. For your girlfriend?”
Tara smiled at the question. “No, for me.”
* * * *
That evening, Amanda came home from work in a giddy mood with three other young women in tow. “Tara!” she exclaimed, dashing through the living room, her friends trailing behind her in a flurry of waves and streaming long hair. “Meet my bridesmaids. Rach, Lily, Isabelle. That’s my cousin.”
Tara didn’t get a good look at the women before they had passed through, heading into the kitchen. Over the sounds of the nightly news on the television, she heard giggling and glasses clinking together, then the blender started up with what would prove to be the first of the evening’s many drinks. At that sound, Marlene drifted down from upstairs, drawn to the promise of alcohol like moth to a flame.
More giggles, running water, squeals of delight. Tara had to turn up the volume to hear the weatherman complain about the heat wave crippling the United States, which explained the oppressive sun she’d felt earlier that day. Was this what the rest of the evening held in store? If so, was it too late to bow out now? Nothing about getting drunk and acting stupid with a bunch of girls ten years younger than she was sounded in the least bit appealing to her at this stage in her life
When did I get old? she wondered.
Amanda wandered back into the living room, two margarita glasses in hand. Holding out one of them to Tara, she glanced at the television and wrinkled her nose. “Turn that shit off,” she groused. “So it’s hot out, we know that already. Hello? It’s summer. It’s supposedto be hot. D’uh!”
Tara thumbed down the volume and took the offered drink. It was easier than saying no. Wincing at the salt along the rim of the glass, she sipped at the slushy concoction and vowed this would be her one for the night. She was only half-joking when she said, “Your mother heard the blender turn on and almost fell down the stairs to get one of these.”
“Are you kidding? She was first in line.” Amanda tossed back half her margarita and sighed. “You know she’s coming tonight, right?”
With a frown, Tara pointed out, “It’s a bachelorette party.”
“She argued that she’s technically not married.”
“Yeah,” Tara said, “because your father died. That makes her a widow. Can’t she let you have some fun on your own sometimes?”
Amanda shrugged but didn’t answer.
For some reason, the thought of Marlene crashing Amanda’s party bothered Tara. She tried again. “It’s you and your friends. Why’s she have to horn in on that? Isn’t she a little old—”
“She says you’re going,” Amanda pointed out.