Summer House by Nancy Thayer

well.”
    “Perhaps the bed on the sleeping porch is too bumpy.”
    Of course, Helen thought. In this house, Nona knows everything. “I like fresh air. Cool air. I’m still having hot flashes.” That would head the older woman off at the pass. Nona was not comfortable discussing female physicality.
    “I keep worrying about Worth.” Nona voice sharpened. “Charlotte is certainly being given her way in the matter of career. And she’s thirty now. She’s had plenty of time for summer romances and playing the field.”
    Helen felt skewered by her mother-in-law’s clear blue gaze. “You think Charlotte should marry Whit Lowry.”
    “Well, he is a catch. From all I hear, Whit is proving to be quite capable at the bank. He’s a handsome young man, and a good sailor and athlete. No blots on his copybook as far as I know.”
    Honestly, Helen thought, this family! She made an attempt to keep her tone reasonable, but she did feel angry. She was not going tosacrifice her daughter to the Wheelwrights’ legacy. If you only knew what your precious Worth has been doing! Helen wanted to cry. She heard the emotional quaver in her voice when she replied, “This is all true, Nona, but you can’t engineer love. We aren’t living in feudal times.”
    But Nona only sipped her tea. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said at last. “Perhaps you can’t engineer love. Yet Whit and Charlotte will be thrown together over the summer. Whit and his family are coming tonight for my birthday party, aren’t they?”
    “Yes, of course they are. But Nona, Charlotte has known Whit since she was a child. She worked with him at the bank and nothing sparked between them.”
    “That was three years ago,” Nona reminded Helen. “Let’s just sit back and see what happens. And you, Helen, try to get Worth out on the dance floor, will you? Be sure he drinks a lot of champagne. I’d like to see him enjoy himself. I’d like to see him smiling.”
    “Of course.” Helen rose. “Shall I take the tray down?”
    “If you would.”
    Helen lifted the tray and crossed over the thick blue and gray Aubusson rug to the door.
    When her hand was on the doorknob, Nona said, “Oh, and Helen?”
    “Yes?”
    “I will be wearing the navy blue dress tonight. It displays my grandmother’s diamonds best. Should anyone ask.”
    “The navy blue dress it is,” Helen agreed, admiring the way Nona closed their little tête-à-tête with a moment of light conspiracy.
    Instead of returning to the kitchen, Helen went down the hall to the sleeping porch. She wanted to take just a few minutes to regain her equilibrium. She had made her bed after showering and dressing and before breakfast—one did, in Nona’s house—but even so, the room appeared, not messy, but occupied. Her dresses hung from the wrought-iron plant hangers, her evening sandals sat tidily against thewall, her paperback novel and her purse and some toiletries were on the card table, and her stained-glass silk wrapper lay where she’d tossed it, at the foot of the daybed.
    Sinking into the wicker rocker, Helen planted her feet on the floor and counseled herself to breathe, just breathe. She forced herself to relax her hands in her lap. Worth. Sweet Cakes —
    “Mom!” Charlotte’s voice was sharp. “What in the world are you doing out here?”
    There in the doorway stood her beautiful daughter. Overalls again today, and an old white shirt, her butterscotch hair pulled back and held with a bit of gardening twine.
    “Hi, Charlotte. I thought you’d be out in your garden.”
    “I was. I came in to grab a bite of breakfast.” She glanced over her shoulder, then skewered Helen with a look. “Why are you sleeping out here?”
    Helen shrugged, amused. “Why shouldn’t I sleep out here? I never have before, not in all the years I’ve stayed in this house. I’d think you’d understand, Charlotte, the appeal of being almost outdoors, and yet—”
    “But what about Dad?” Charlotte plunked