You Knew Me When (16 page)

“Katherine?” Gemma's face lit up—again, in the same exact way Laney's used to—as she opened the passenger's-side door.

“Gemma, hi! It's so nice to finally meet you.” Katherine surveyed Gemma's outfit—skinny jeans, black leather jacket, knee-skimming black leather boots. She looked directly off the streets of Greenwich Village, only about five years older than she actually was. “I'm your mom's old friend Kitty.” She couldn't remember the last time she'd introduced herself that way—even though Gemma clearly knew her by Katherine.

“I know who you are.” She slid into the seat. “You're, like, superfamous!”

“Hardly.” Katherine laughed unassumingly. “And I know your mom didn't tell you that.”

“No, my mom doesn't talk to me about you at all. Mainly she just complains to my dad.” Gemma's blue eyes sparkled at Katherine, who suddenly felt like Cameron Diaz.

“That's nice,” Katherine replied sarcastically.

“But I looked you up online. You're, like, the head of Blend. I love their makeup. And you go to all those fancy parties in New York City with all of the celebs.”

“Something like that.”
Kids these days and the Internet,
Katherine thought. In her day, unless you were a big movie or TV star, twelve-year-olds definitely did not know who you were or whom you partied with.

“I didn't even know until now that you used to be my mom's best friend. That's so cool.”

“I'm glad you think so.” Katherine drove down Main Street.

“I know you and my mom are fighting. She can be so unreasonable sometimes.”

“I wouldn't say we're fighting,” Katherine hedged. “We just have some things to work out.”

“She said she hated you.”

“Is that so?”

“When you first got here.”

“Well, I'll have to work on that.”

“I hope you stay. My mom could use a best friend.”

“Oh yeah?” Katherine smiled. It was like talking to a preteen Laney, except Gemma was much more poised. “I live in New York City, so I can't stay, but I hope I get to spend some time with you and your mom while I'm here.”

“Me too. I overheard my mom tell Dad that Uncle Grant used to be your boyfriend. Is that true?”

“It is.”

“Why would he give
you
up for Michelle? I mean, she's nice, but . . .”

“That's not exactly how it happened.” Katherine turned onto her old street.

“How did it happen?”

“I think it's best we leave that one alone.” Katherine stopped in front of Luella's house. “Here we are.”

“My mom's here.” Gemma motioned to Laney's black Volvo. “She's going to be really pissed.”

“I don't blame her. Smoking is a terrible habit, and getting caught is even worse.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Do you know that smoking ruins your skin and makes you less pretty?”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. No one in the beauty industry smokes. You get lots of lines on your face and your teeth turn yellow.”

“Oh.”

“Come on, let's go inside.”

“I like your bag.” Gemma fixated on Katherine's Louis Vuitton checkered tote.

“Thank you.” Katherine stepped out of the car, and Gemma followed her up the path to Luella's. “Have you ever been here?”

“Nope.”

“Too bad. It used to be gorgeous.” Katherine pushed the door in hard to find Laney standing in the middle of the entranceway floor, with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Gemma cowered behind Katherine.

“You left your cell phone and the school called, so I went to pick Gemma up.”

“And you didn't think to call me at work? We both know you know where I work. Right?” Laney glared at Katherine.

“Yes, I do. But I didn't want to bother you. I thought you had enough on your hands, so I did you a favor.”

“A favor?” Laney huffed, tapping her boot on the hardwood floor, which was echoing throughout the cavernous space.

“Yes, a favor.”

“Okay, well, why don't you let me deal with my own child?” Laney marched toward them. “Gemma, let's go home.”

“Can't I stay with you guys?”

“No.”

“I can help. Katherine and I were just getting to know each other!”

“Kitty. Her name is Kitty.”

“
Please
, Mom.”

“I said no, Gemma. Girls who get in trouble for smoking in the bathroom do not get to hang out. Got it?”

Gemma hung her head. “I'm never going to do it again.”

“I've heard that before.”

“Katherine told me smoking makes you ugly.”

“Did she, now? Well, we've had quite enough help from Kitty today, so let's go.”

“But . . .”

“No
but
s. Move.” Laney pointed toward the door, walking past Katherine but not bothering to make eye contact. “I'll be back in twenty minutes.”

Katherine waved her hand in the air. “Looking forward to it.”

E
very summer for as long as I can remember, my parents have rented a vacation home on Nantucket for the last week of August. They both used to go there with their own families when they were kids—even though they didn't know each other. “Because your father is older than I am,” my mom always points out whenever my dad tells the story. Even though he's only three years older. We've been renting the same house for ten years now in Tom Nevers East, right near the beach. My mom always makes sure people know we don't rent
on
the beach, just near it. “We don't want to give the impression we're fancy,” she says. Why not? I say. Let people think we're fancy. So, anyway, we're
near
the beach, in your typical gray-and-white-shingle, Nantucket-style cottage with a really cool circular shell driveway and wraparound farmers' porch. My mom calls the décor English country—whatever that means. All I know is there's a lot of chintz and the house is big enough. The kitchen is pretty modern because the owners renovated it last year, and the whole first floor has cathedral ceilings and French doors, which, as my mom brags, gives it that airy feeling.

Usually I can't wait to get there. As soon as we arrive, my parents go the supermarket, since my dad refuses to lug the groceries from Vermont, which my mom always tries to negotiate the day before we leave—she says everything on Nantucket is
such
a rip-off. And Grant and I ride our bikes, or the bikes of the people who own the house, to Something Natural on Cliff Road for
the
best sandwiches in the existence of the world. Normally I'm not a fan of egg salad, but there's something in theirs that makes it simply divine. Also, their herb bread is to die for. We usually pick up as many loaves as we can fit in our bike baskets, because, as my father would say, “That bread vanishes into thin air as soon as it comes in the front door.” Of course, when you eat four pieces of it for breakfast like he and Grant often do, that's bound to happen.

This is the first year either Grant or I have been able to bring a friend. In the past, my parents have insisted that it's the one week they get to spend with us without interruption, and despite some pretty extensive groveling on our parts, they've never given in. Obviously, Kitty is way more than a friend. She's more like part of the family, and now that she and Grant have been together for three months, she's even more a part of the family than ever. Don't even get me started on Grant and Kitty. I mean, I'm happy for them, but the whole thing is completely weird. I knew they were friends, and they are freakishly similar in a lot of ways, but it's not really ideal to have your best friend and brother be boyfriend and girlfriend, especially since they're so grossly in-your-face with their PDAs. And Kitty used to be totally anti-PDA. But he's always got his hands all over her, and she's always all googly-eyed over him. Grant can do no wrong in Kitty's eyes, which is completely infuriating, since he does so much wrong.

Oh, and have I mentioned that my parents are completely obsessed with the whole thing? They were shocked at first, as was I. I think they assumed that Grant and Kitty had more of a sister-brother kind of relationship than a romantic one. I kind of thought so too. But apparently not. And now my mom is practically planning their wedding. She even showed Kitty her wedding dress last week. Yes, I've seen it before. And it's hideous. She knows I'd rather get married in a garbage bag, but of course Kitty was all, “Oh, Carol. It's stunning.” If she considers an all-lace turtleneck bodice with puffy sleeves and a taffeta skirt stunning, she can have it. When I get married, I want something strapless with beading and crystals. Like a princess.

“You better hang out with me this week.” I leaned back on the railing and tilted my face toward the sun. There's no easier way to get a base tan for vacation than soaking in the rays on the one-hour ferry ride from Hyannis to Nantucket.

“For the millionth time, I'm going to hang out with you.” Kitty lowered the brim of her wide straw hat. “Unless you die of skin cancer first.”

“Kitty!” Sometimes she can be
so
dramatic.

“What?”

“That's a terrible thing to say.” As if she hasn't been preaching the same thing for six years. Fortunately, I'm still alive and kicking. And tan. A lovely golden shade, thank you.

“
Well?
”

“
Well
, what?”

“The least you could do is wear sunblock.”

“I am.” I pulled a tube of Bain de Soleil out of my olive green LeSportsac as evidence.

“SPF four isn't sunblock.”

“Then why do they sell it?”

“For idiots like you!” Kitty sat down on the bench in her preppy khaki shorts and red T-shirt. “How long are we on this thing? I'm feeling a little nauseous.”

“Only an hour. My mom has ginger pills, if you want.”

“I think I should be okay. As long as the boat doesn't bump around too much.”

“What do you want to do when we get there?” I know I have at least one whole day of Kitty to myself. A bunch of Grant's friends are leaving for college tomorrow, so he wanted to stay back and say good-bye. He's probably having a party at our house. Fortunately, UVM doesn't start for a couple more weeks; otherwise Grant wouldn't have been able to come at all, which probably would have been more of a bummer for Kitty than for me.

“I don't know. It's up to you.” She squinted up at me, looking a little pale.

“I say we bike ride to Something Natural for lunch and then hit the beach.”

“You know I can't bike ride.”

“Yes, you can. Your dad told me he taught you when you were little.”

“He may have, but I forgot.”

“You can't forget. There's actually a saying—‘It's like riding a bike,' meaning ‘Once you know, you know.'”

“I'm familiar with the expression, thanks. Unfortunately, I'm the person who it doesn't apply to.”

“We can go out tonight in town if you want to.”

“I don't know. We'll see. Maybe we'll wait until Grant gets here for that.”

“What? Are you afraid he'll be mad if you talk to another guy?”

“No, I'm not afraid of anything with Grant.”

“Spare me.”

•   •   •

Forty
minutes later—including one puke over the side of the ferry by Kitty—we arrived on Nantucket, piled into our rented Jeep, and drove to the house. While my parents unloaded the car, I showed Kitty around.

“This place is unbelievable.” She finally took off that stupid straw hat and set it down on the yellow-and-white floral sofa. “It's almost as nice as Luella's house.”

“I know. I can't believe you've never been here before. I'm so excited! We're going to have the most amazing week ever.” She followed me upstairs to where the three guest bedrooms were. “This is my bedroom.”

“Wow.”

“This is Grant's, though I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you take it, since it's next to mine.” We walked farther down the wide hallway, which boasted an array of framed and neatly displayed black-and-white photos of the owners' extended family on the periwinkle walls. “And this is your room.”

“Wow again. It's perfect.” Kitty dropped her pink suitcase on the queen-sized bed with its nautical-themed comforter.

“I can't believe you still have that suitcase after all these years.”

“I know. It's really stood the test of time.”

“Let's get on our suits and go to the beach.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Kitty opened her suitcase, and I ran down the hall to do the same.

By the time we were changed and downstairs, my mom and dad were ready to go to the supermarket.

“Anything special you girls would like to eat while we're here?” My mom was in her traditional full-blown, get-the-house-in-order mode. “I'm sure we'll be at the market every day if your brother's stomach has anything to do with it. But for now?”

“No, thank you.” Kitty smiled politely. Six years, and she still acts like a first-time guest around my parents.

“Honey Nut Cheerios. Turkey. American cheese. Doritos. And mint chip ice cream.”

“Anything else?” My dad laughed. He's grown a little gut recently, and ever since the doctor told him he had to cut back on the junk food, he likes to pick on how much crap Grant and I eat.

“That should do it. We're going to the beach.”

“Do you want the chairs? I don't know where they are.” My mom scoured the room aimlessly, like they'd be anywhere but in the garage, where they are every year when she asks the same question.

“No, we'll lie on our towels.”

“What about the umbrella? The sun is so strong.”

“We'll be fine, Mom. We're not ten anymore.”

“To me you'll always be ten.”

“Okay, we're going. See you later.” I grabbed Kitty's hand and led her out the back door toward the beach.

“Thank you!” she called over her shoulder.

“It's just down this path.” We hopped from hot stone to hot stone in our bare feet and bikinis. Of course, Kitty had to wear a cover-up, because she's Kitty. Honestly, she's not even chubby anymore, but she insists she is.

“Remind me why we need four towels?”

“One for lying on and the other for drying off. You don't want to get out of the water and wrap yourself in a sandy towel, do you?”

“Good point.”

“I brought magazines too, and—wait. What's this?” I revealed a small bottle of vodka I'd lifted from the liquor cabinet.

“Laney!”

“What?”

“Where'd you get that?”

“From the house. No one will miss it, trust me.”

“You're going to drink it straight?”

“No, silly. I'm going to mix it with this.” I pulled another small bottle out of my bag. “Orange juice. That's why I got an extra at the gas station.”

“Nice foresight.”

“Why, thank you. I even brought an empty thermos in case my parents come down.” I poured the vodka and juice into the thermos and shook it vigorously. “Swig?” I held my arm out toward Kitty and arched an eyebrow. Surprisingly, she swiped it and took a big gulp.

“Bleh! That tastes like shit.”

“I know, but it does the trick.” We laid out our towels and sat down with the thermos between us. “Magazine?” I fanned copies of
Glamour
,
Cosmopolitan
, and
YM
in front of her.

“
Glamour
.” Kitty grabbed it, and I took a sip of orange-juice vodka.

“This does taste like shit. Needs more juice.”

“Give me that.” Kitty took another healthy mouthful.

“Living on the wild side, huh?” She rolled her eyes at me. “‘How to Improve Your Sex Life in Eight Easy Steps.'” I read the headline off the cover of
Cosmo
. “I'll leave this for you, since I'm not having sex right now.” I finally broke it off with Roger. Turns out he was a bit of a meathead.

“I'm sure it'll only be a matter of time.” She smiled smugly.

“Shut up!” I swatted at her with my magazine.

“Well?”

“Fine. I might be in the market for a hard-bodied Nantucket gentleman.”

“Of course.” We both laughed.

“This is nice.”

“I know. The beach is so gorgeous.”

“No, I mean this.
Us
.”

“Are you going to kiss me?”

“F you. I meant we haven't done a lot of this lately. Just sit around and talk. You're always . . .”

“With Grant. I know.”

“You said it, I didn't.”

“Actually, you've said it a billion times.”

“Right. I just miss my best friend sometimes.”

“You see me every day!”

“I know, but it's not the same.” I protruded my lower lip.

“Well, you'll have me all to yourself next year.”

“True. But then I'll have to share you again when we get to UVM.”

“You should probably be really nice to me, then.”

“Can I give you pedicure when we get back?”

“Sounds like a good start.”

•   •   •

After
a few hours at the beach, Kitty and I spent the rest of the day eating and watching TV, until dinnertime. My parents had picked up four huge lobsters in town, and Kitty totally freaked when they killed them in the pot. She didn't know you could hear them screaming for their lives. My mom also made baked potatoes, salad, and cherry pie—it was enough for about ten people. “I'm not worried. Grant will eat the leftovers,” she insisted. Apparently, Grant had called earlier and decided he couldn't live without Kitty for another second, so he's getting here tonight instead of tomorrow. Actually, he didn't say that, but I couldn't help but torment Kitty a little. She's so sensitive, especially when it comes to Grant.

By ten o'clock we were all exhausted—the Nantucket sun, ocean, and air will do that to you. My mom was trying to stay awake to make sure Grant arrived safely, but she could barely keep her eyes open. So Kitty and I told her we'd wait up in Kitty's room, as if she would possibly go to sleep without seeing Grant, who finally arrived just before midnight. As expected, they practically had sex in front of me the minute they saw each other. I mean, seriously? It hadn't even been a full twenty-four hours.

“That'll be my cue. Night, lovebirds.” They barely detached their faces long enough to say good night in return. “Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

“That shouldn't be a challenge,” Grant retorted as I was leaving.

I'm not sure why, but I stood outside the door, listening for a moment. Not something I've ever done before because, honestly, the thought of hearing Kitty and Grant go at it is so repulsive I'd rather eat worms. Anyway, I overheard him say he'd missed her, and she said the same in return. Barf. Then there was a short silence. Probably kissing. Double barf. And then it happened. He said, “Kitty, there's something I want to tell you.” Another short silence. “I love you.”