She remembers the story her father told her about his first boat, The Pansy. His stories captivated her like no other. Remembering the glee in his eyes when she asked him to tell it once more, she smiled and imagined his voice. The year was 1931, and Dx picked up her husband’s ink pen with unprecedented determination to draft a letter to her trusty friend Hx. Dx relied on her sister-in-law Hx as a battle axe, a necessary weapon when dealing with her husband, Rx, Sr., on matters of importance. The construction of House #1 was on the horizon, and Dx needed all the help she could get to insure that it would be built with her delicate frame in mind. Dx was demure in nature with willowy arms and a sing-song voice; a perfect match, in her complete oppositeness, to the overbearing presence of [Allie’s grandfather], Rx, Sr. After all, it would be Dx, not Rx, who would be left to mind the children, sea and shore while Rx, Sr. turned rubber into gold traversing East Coast bi-ways as a travelling salesman in his trusty DeSoto.
With a “boxwood” shell, House #1 was built like a barn with vertical planking that seized the sky and rooted the structure to earth in a simplicity that underpinned the luxury to come to these Hampton shores….
“Fold your arms across your chest. Leave nothing sticking out,” commanded Bx one crisp summer morning, “And don’t flay them about!” Cx added to the demands on young [Allie’s father], son of Rx and Dx [Allie’s Family name] of Brooklyn, NY. It was his first year summering on the East End, and disobedience was out of the question to his 4 year old mind as he became the football, skillfully tossed between the lithe arms of brothers Cx and Bx, and their friend Dxx. At four, [Allie’s father] was an early initiate in the [childhood friends of Allie’s father] East End ways.
[A novel start. More to come….]