Great-Aunt Sophia's Lessons for Bombshells

“Inviting her to Pebble Beach for the summer seemed a way to fulfill both our ne

“Inviting her to Pebble Beach for the summer seemed a way to fulfill both our needs. Grace is getting her Ph.D. in—what was it, dear?”

Grace’s shoulders slumped, dreading what was to come. No male reacted well to mention of her field, and mentioning it all but guaranteed a nasty discussion of its faults and dubious merits. “Women’s Studies,” she said, and she felt the shift in atmosphere immediately. Andrew’s expression turned uncertain, while the line of Declan’s lips betrayed distaste. He took a sip from his glass as if to clean “Women’s Studies” from his mouth.

She knew what they were thinking: she must be either a lesbian or a ballbuster. In either case, no one worth pursuing romantically. She’d had five years of defending her choice to potential dating partners, and had learned to accept romantic defeat before she began. Even math majors got more action than she did. “I hope to get most of my dissertation written while I’m here.”

“What’s your thesis?” Declan asked, with the same tone used to ask if one knew what the mold-furred blob in the back of the fridge might be.

Grace squished a little lower into her chair. “The working title is ‘The Belle of the Ball Cries Alone: How Beauty Brings Unhappy Endings in the Emotional Lives of Women.’”

Silence settled upon the tea party. A breeze soughed through the trees. A bird chirped and then flew away.

“Oh, dear,” Sophia said faintly.

“So a straight person cannot be turned gay?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why, my dear, did you try to sleep with my niece?”

Andrew dropped his cup. Declan hit his knee on the underside of the table, making the dishes jump. Cat gasped and turned furious eyes on Grace.

“I never said a word to anyone! I swear it! Sophia took a shot in the dark.”

Catherine snarled. “This is why you don’t want to spend the summer with me, isn’t it? You’re afraid I’ll make another pass at you. Or were you afraid that you might give in and enjoy it this time?”

Grace said nothing, unable to deny it. She had been looking forward to being away from Catherine for a few months.

“There’s no need to blame Grace for spilling your secret,” Sophia said. “It was clear for anyone with eyes to see. You’re in love with her, but she won’t have you.”

Catherine’s lower lip began to tremble.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Sophia soothed. “Grace is beautiful. She can’t help it if the thought of touching you makes her stomach turn.”

“What do you know of love, you sadistic old bitch?” Catherine spit. “I don’t see anyone here who loves you!” Catherine shoved back her chair and ran for the house, her sobs carrying on the breeze.

“Cat!” Grace called, shoving back her own chair.

“Don’t bother, darling. She’ll be fine. You’ll only encourage her if you chase after her. It’s what she wants.”

Grace shook her head. “You deliberately humiliated her.”

“She humiliated herself by mooning over someone who had rejected her. She’ll be better off for facing the truth.” Sophia took a sip of tea. “Don’t go after her.”

“No matter what she feels, she’s my friend.” Grace turned on her heel and followed Catherine.

It had been a long evening of consolation and argument, Catherine’s dramatic distress pushing Grace further and further away until she felt like an actor pretending to care. At this moment, it was beyond her how women could stand to fall in love with each other.

She didn’t know how men put up with them, either. Really, why would any guy bother? Was the sex really worth it?

She felt guilty sometimes for feeling a kinship with men who complained that women talked too much about their feelings. There were times she wanted to yell, “Just get over it, for criminy’s sake! Let it go!”

[and then, a few pages later, Grace thinks the following:]

Declan obviously had no respect for women, or interest in their thoughts. He’d probably marry someone with implants and a Botox addiction.