1
The day couldn’t be more gorgeous. It’s late July, and the sky is a spectacular shade of blue, with only a few tiny clouds scudding across. I’m in the passenger seat of our Volvo with my husband, Gabe, behind the wheel and my nine-year-old stepson, Henry, in the back. We’re halfway to Gabe’s parents’ sixty-acre country home in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, for our annual family vacation there, a week that I know from experience will involve plenty of swimming, tennis, badminton, biking, hammocking, forest hikes, Frisbee-tossing, stargazing, board games, and epic conversations, to say nothing of fantastic meals and delicious cocktails.
And yet I’ve got a pit in my stomach that won’t go away, no matter how deeply I breathe, release, and repeat.
“You okay?” Gabe asks, glancing over at me and raising a single eyebrow in that way of his.
“Not totally,” I admit. “I’m kind of upset about the job I did this morning.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to ask how that went. Want to talk about it?”
I steal a glance into the back seat, where Henry, a precocious kid and world-class eavesdropper, appears engrossed in something on his iPad.
“The session turned into a real dumpster fire,” I tell Gabe.
“I thought you were only recording a short story today,” he says. “Wouldn’t that be pretty straightforward?”
I’m an actress, and I’ve been concentrating for the past couple of years on voice-over work. Today’s dumpster fire involved, yes, me reading one story for the audio edition of an upcoming collection by a hotshot writer.
I sigh. “The author convinced the publisher to let her sit in on the sessions, which is a bad idea on so many levels. Two minutes in she starts wrinkling her nose, like she’s smelling a dead yak, and whispering to Shawna, my director. Then, if you can believe it, she started doing line readings for my benefit—to explain how things should sound.”
“Did Shawna say anything?”
“Not really. She seemed totally intimidated by this woman. We got through the whole recording, but I think they could tell I was flustered.”
“I’m sure you did fine, Summer, you always do. And besides, it’s just one job.”
I usually appreciate Gabe’s typical glass-half-full attitude, but it’s not as simple as that. Though audiobooks don’t pay as well as some of the other voice-over work I do, like TV and radio commercials, and also IVR (interactive voice response)—you know, those prompts that route your call when you contact your insurance company or internet provider, the ones that sometimes make you want to hurl your phone against the wall—I love recording them. That’s because it feels like acting, and I don’t want Shawna to think twice about hiring me again.
But I just nod. Gabe’s been worried lately that I give my inner critic way too much headspace, and I shouldn’t look like I’m stressing as we kick off our vacation.
“How about you?” I ask. “Are you going to be able to chill this week?”
“Yeah, mostly. Marcus and I need to sit down with Dad about some business stuff, but we’ll get that out of the way this weekend.”
Gabe and his brother have a flourishing eight-year-old wine-importing firm, and my father-in-law’s been an adviser to them, as well as an early investor.
“Will we have time to swim before dinner tonight?” Henry pipes up from the back.
“Probably, buddy,” Gabe responds. “I talked to Gee earlier and she said we won’t eat till seven.”
We’d gotten a later start from Manhattan than we hoped for, in part because Gabe’s ex, Amanda, was late dropping Henry off (“You could not believe the traffic.”), but the GPS has us arriving by five.
“Do you think I’m gonna be able to swim every day?” Henry asks. “My mom said it’s supposed to rain this week.”
Gabe rolls his eyes for my benefit only. It’s so much like Amanda to put a Debbie Downer spin on a fun vacation, but all things being equal, Gabe’s coparenting experience could be worse. She’s the one who initiated their split (“We were such different people in college, don’t you think?”), and though she can be a pain in the butt, her guilt about ending the marriage seems to have kept her from turning toxic.
“There might be a few thunderstorms here and there,” Gabe says. “But nothing to worry about. And you downloaded some books, right?”
“Yeah, a bunch.”
“What are you reading now, Hen?” I ask.
“Brief Answers to the Big Questions by Stephen Hawking.”
Jeez. Well, hopefully he won’t ask me to elaborate on anything. My BFA theater degree meant that I made it through college without any math or science, but feel free to quiz me on what I soaked up in courses like “Freeing the Expressive Human Instrument” and “Unarmed Combat: Learning Slaps, Punches, and Found Objects.”
“You know what could be fun to do if it does rain, honey?” I say, twisting around in my seat to look at him. “We could ask Gee to give us a cooking class.”
“Wow, that would be awesome.”
“Gee,” aka my mother-in-law, Claire, has help from her longtime housekeeper, Bonnie, at the Bucks County house, but she also prepares many of the meals herself. A landscape designer by profession, she’s a natural and talented chef.
I turn back to Gabe. “So you talked to your mom? Has anyone arrived yet?”
“Marcus and Keira drove out early, so did Blake and Wendy,” he says, referring to two of his brothers and their wives. “Not sure when Nick arrives. But—major news flash: he’s bringing a new girl with him.”
“Oh my god!” I punch him lightly on the arm. “Why are you only telling me this now?”
“Because I heard it myself only a couple of hours ago.”
I’m happy for Nick. His last girlfriend moved back to Belgium over a year ago, and though I’m sure my charming, dashing brother-in-law hasn’t been lacking for female company, I’ve sensed lately he’s eager for something serious. I just hope a stranger won’t disturb the ecosystem of our family vacation this week.
“He really sprung it on them last minute, huh?”
“Yeah, but my mom seemed cool about it. As you know, Nick can do no wrong with her.”
“Where’s Uncle Nick going to stay?” Henry calls out from the back.
“Probably in the carriage house. Gee’s had it totally renovated with a couple of new guest rooms.”
“What about his date?” my stepson asks.
“Um, probably with him there,” Gabe says.
“Does that mean they’re shacking up?”
I stifle a laugh as I see Gabe’s right brow shoot up.
“Yeah, but let’s not refer to it that way in front of everyone else. Okay, buddy? And speaking of sleeping arrangements, are you sure you want to stay in the main house? You could always bunk down with me and Summer in the cottage.”
“Thanks, but I wanna be in the big house with Gee and Grandpa. Gee said the dogs can sleep with me.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind, it’s not a problem.”
Twenty minutes later we exit the main highway, and in another fifteen, we cross the Delaware River from New Jersey into Bucks County and end up on Durham Road. The sight of the Keatons’ home—a rambling gray stone house with several wings, and dormer windows across the roof—always lifts my spirits, and I feel my work worries ease as soon as we head down the gravel road that leads to the circular driveway.
As we’re parking, my father-in-law, Ash, strides from the house, his six-two frame bookended by two scampering dogs: Ginger, a golden retriever, and Bella, a pug-Chihuahua rescue mutt.
“It’s only been three weeks since I saw you, but I swear you’ve grown two inches,” Ash tells Henry, his voice booming, as he envelops him in a hug.
“Did you know you grow more when you’re sleeping than when you’re awake, Grandpa?” Henry asks.
“I didn’t know that, but you’re going to sit next to me at dinner and tell me all about it,” Ash says, hugging me and Gabe in turn. Though I know my father-in-law has a reputation for being tough and exacting in his commercial real estate business, he always has plenty of warmth to spare for us. “Now let’s go say hi to Gee.”
We follow him in, and I’m newly struck by the fact that Gabe, with his slate-blue eyes and hawklike nose, looks a lot like his handsome dad, minus the silver hair.
Claire is in the large kitchen, wearing a cook’s apron over stylish beige trousers and a cream-colored blouse, and julienning basil, which she pauses doing to hug us. As I set two bags of bagels on the countertop, I spot a few people hanging by the pool through the rear window of the kitchen.
“Can I get my trunks on?” Henry asks, noticing, too.
“You bet,” Ash tells him. “Why don’t you carry your bag upstairs first? You’re in the room next to Gee’s and mine.”
“I think I’ll swim, too,” Gabe says. “What about you, Summer?”
“I’m going to stay here and catch up with your mom for a bit.”
“Okay, I’ll take our stuff to the cottage. Unless you need any help here, Mom?”
She shakes her head. “No, darling, enjoy yourself. There are snacks and drinks by the pool.”
After they depart, I take a minute to let my eyes roam the room. If Gabe’s business keeps growing like it has been, we’re hoping to buy a small weekend home of our own, and this is the kind of kitchen I’d kill for. All the white keeps it fresh, but there’s also a charming rustic feel thanks to the exposed ceiling beams, apron sink, and painted wood floor.
“How about an iced tea?” Claire asks, nodding toward the brown ceramic jug that she keeps filled on the counter.
“Not right now, thanks.” My mother-in-law brews it herself with herbs like fennel and sage, and though I’m sure it has all sorts of antioxidant properties, I’ve always preferred the stuff that tastes like Snapple.
“You look lovely, by the way,” she says. “The green in your dress perfectly matches your eyes, and the style suits you to a tee.”
I cherish compliments like that from Claire as she always looks so pulled together. Her blond hair, a shade or so lighter than mine, is pulled back today in a flattering French twist.
“Do you think so? I wore it to work today. A lot of voice actors dress down for recording jobs, but I always feel I perform better when I make an effort.”
“I think we all do. Like it or not, people notice our clothes and judge us on them, sometimes without even realizing it, and you pick up on those vibes in the studio, I’m sure.”
I’m momentarily tempted to tell Claire what happened today at the recording. She’s a fount of wisdom on everything from how ...
