Midsummer

by Clements, Marcelle

• ISBN13: 9780156029650
• ISBN10: 0156029650
• Edition: Reprint
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2004-05-01
• Publisher: Lightning Source Inc

Summary

The setting is a ridiculously grand Hudson River estate, shared by a group of friends for the summer. At first, Susie's idea is to cheer up her old schoolmate, Kay. She invites an ex-lover, Dodge, who brings in Ron, a comedian. On impulse, Susie also invites a woman artist she knows only slightly. Everyone looks forward to a respite from Manhattan but each privately anticipates something more.

Author Biography

MARCELLE CLEMENTS is the author of award-winning essays and her articles have appeared in numerous publications, among them the New York Times, Rolling Stone, Elle, and Esquire. She lives in NewYork City.

ALT VERSION: Marcelle Clements was born in Paris and moved to New York at age ten. Her previous books were a collection of essays, The Dog Is Us; a novel, Rock Me; and a nonfiction book, The Improvised Woman. Her articles and essays on culture, politics, and the arts have appeared in many national publications.

Table of Contents

CONTENTS
TUTTI
Fourth of July Weekend

KAY
Weekend of July 11

DODGE
Weekend of July 18

SUSIE
Weekend of July 25

RON
Weekend of August 1

ELISE
Weekend of August 8

BILLY
Weekend of August 15

TUTTI
Weekend of August 22

Excerpts

TUTTIFOURTH OF JULY WEEKENDThursdayThe rose garden needed watering. By midday the ground was parched and the fullest, heaviest blooms seemed to be waiting for the wind to rise and scatter all their petals. Impossibly open, already a little seared on their edges, they yielded the last of their beauty to the sun. To be beautiful a few hours more or less, what does it matter to a rose?As if they had noted the lack of shadow on the old sundial, the birds and the butterflies had all left for their naps. Only one inebriated bee, on his way to the hive, still zigzagged greedily from flower to flower. Then, all was still, save for the perpetual trickling of a fountain: For the last hundred years the trio of bare-breasted naiads had been about to dive into the alabaster pool below, forever ready to frolic, forever unreasonably young and desirable (taunting thirsty roses for all eternity).And the truth is the fountain really should have been drained and cleaned, but never mind that for now. From the mansion's big parlor casement windows, Dodie glanced down toward the rose garden again and made yet another mental note-she never wrote anything down and it must have been the thirtieth time she reminded herself-to call the landscape guy, remind him the summer people were arriving tomorrow. Dodie sighed. Her husband was supposed to do the watering, but who knew where he was.The house was ready. She had checked and double-checked the upstairs. There were ten bedrooms. Ten! Although there would only be five tenants, or maybe six if the son came, all the rooms needed to be ready, just in case. All week, during daylight hours, the rooms had been aired, doors and windows wedged open, breezes vigorously communicating, lifting a white piqu curtain here or the corner of a dotted-swiss bedspread there, caressing the matelass coverlets spread over two chair backs, while on the beds, mattresses and pillows brazenly sprawled, stripped down to their striped ticking. Now each room was done, its door primly closed.Well, if you weren't super-rich, that's probably what it took, was five of you to rent this place, thought Dodie. I don't know, maybe ten of you. They may have gotten a discount because one of them, Susie Diamond, was a friend of Mr. Durrell's. Or Bennett, as he seemed to think Dodie should call him, though she never would if she could help it. The only thing she knew about Susie Diamond was that she was a costume designer in the theater. Mr. Durrell had been living in Italy for the last ten years, and when he came to New York it was usually to go on a talk show, so he stayed in Manhattan at the Carlyle and never came upstate at all. When they had established their arrangement, a decade ago, Mr. Durrell had explained that he wanted the house kept just so and that he might be back at any time. But he never returned. Dodie thought it was perhaps because the young man who had lived here with him had died, early in the AIDS epidemic, but of course that's n

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Excerpted from Midsummer by Marcelle Clements
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