Ch. 2 - A Day at the Beach
This is the second chapter in a longer coming of age story set in the mid '60's about an 18 year old young man spending the summer after high school graduation in a small town on the coast of New England.
***
On our street there was a coffee klatch of some of the local women. The next morning, two of my mom's friends stopped by for the first meeting of the summer.
Janet LaPage was maybe ten years older than my mom, lean with a tennis player's body, obsessed with getting a perfect tan, a pack of Newport's always at the ready. Janet's late husband had been an investment banker who had the fortune to die young and leave her with a comfortable inheritance. She drove a Bonneville with the top down, a scarf on her head, and sunglasses glinting in the bright sun like a picture from a magazine.
Nance Raycroft lived a couple houses down the street. She'd been married to a railroad man who had passed away a few years before. She was the oldest of the trio, in her late 60's with a round body and short hair colored what could only be described as a reddish mahogany.
"Hi, Billy!" I heard Janet's tobacco scarred voice as I let the screen door bang behind me. "Did you have a good winter?"
"Yes, Mrs. LaPage. I guess it was pretty good.
Nance chimed in, "How's school goin'?"
"Well, I graduated. I'm off to U of M in September."
"A college boy! I remember when you were just a kid riding your bike up and down the street."
Janet turned to my mom, "Look at him, Marian, he's all filled out. He's got his dad's build. Nice broad shoulders!"
"Yeah, he's a good lookin' guy," my mom replied. "It's hard to believe he's already over 18! I could go for him if I was still a girl."
"You better watch out," said Janet with a wink. "The girls are all gonna be chasing you. My advice is you don't run too fast, let 'em catch you. It's more fun that way!" she chuckled.
I was looking to make a polite escape when Nance asked, "So are you working this summer?"
"Yeah, I'm back at the restaurant."
"Didn't you work there last year?"
"This is my third year there," I replied.
"Well you ought to be manger by now!"
Sloan's Colonial Coach House was the "fine dining" establishment over in the village, but everyone just called it "the restaurant". During the summer it provided employment for any number of college kids and locals, giving the kitchen an atmosphere reminiscent more of a rowdy frat house than an elegant destination.
The season started the first of July. Until then I had a couple weeks to basically do nothing. Which is what I intended to do.
"Say, Billy," Janet said, "if you want to make a couple bucks before you start work, I need some help cleaning up the yard. Branches and leaves all over the place after the winter. How about I give you twenty bucks? OK?"
$20 was not an insignificant amount of money in those days. How could I refuse? "Sure," I said. "When should I come over."
"Oh just show up tomorrow some time, I'll be ready for you."