“We’ll come back next winter so we can ski,” Mitch said. “By then the baby will actually be doing something.”
It turned out Natasha didn’t have Fermentalisminutia. She was pregnant. About five weeks at the time of the cruise, although neither she nor Freddy had any inkling. The only person who had known was David, who had taken one look at Natasha and known with absolute certainty that she wasn’t seasick, nor did she have a mosquito-borne virus. What was making Natasha’s GI tract feisty was none other than his future grandchild. He hadn’t breathed a word, not even to Annette, until his suspicions were confirmed three weeks after the cruise with a joyous phone call from Freddy. It was an unspoken source of pain that David would never have the chance to meet his third grandchild, who also happened to be his namesake.
“You never liked the baby phase,” Elise teased Mitch. “I still remember when we brought Rachel home from the NICU and you asked me when she was going to get interesting. If I had birthed mini adults, we probably would have had four or five children.”
“I can’t help it. Babies are boring. They just lie there and poop and spit up and everyone oohs and aahs, but they are really quite terrible. Everyone is just afraid to admit it. Maybe I’ll write about that for The Elephant.”
“That could be funny. Although maybe wait awhile so Freddy and Natasha don’t think we’re talking about Davie. I still cannot believe Freddy has a kid. And a baby girl, no less,” Elise said. “You need to bear right at the next exit.”
“I bet Freddy will actually be a great dad to a little girl. Rachel worships him. And he’s really quite good to Natasha,” Mitch said. “Think they’ll get married?”
“Who knows with them? My mother would certainly like it. Actually, she’s kind of calmed down. You know how people are supposed to get crazier as they get older? I think she might be going in the opposite direction. I always assumed if my dad died before her she’d totally fall apart or go totally batshit. But she’s actually mellowed. Though I don’t want to say any more on the subject and potentially jinx it.” She watched as Mitch scratched at his chin, which he always did when contemplating another possible article.
“Annette’s already been out here for a month, huh?” Mitch asked.
“Yes. Apparently the dry air is amazing for her arthritis. And she loves visiting the baby as much as possible. Between you and me, I don’t think the pot hurts either, not that she’s officially admitted to using any. But I’m pretty sure Natasha swapped out her Bengay for cannabis lotion.”
Mitch chuckled.
“She’s even talking about putting the Great Neck house on the market. I guess it’s too big without my dad. Or just too many memories.”
Elise eyed the gift she’d chosen for the baby, propped in the backseat. It wasn’t easy to find something when she was prohibited from nonessential shopping. For the shiva, Annette had wanted to display old pictures of David and she’d asked Elise for help locating them in the attic. While they were up there, Elise had come across a stack of Dr. Seuss books Freddy used to read to her when she was little. She had chosen a stack of her favorites and brought them home to California, then decoupaged an old trunk with lovely floral paper and placed the books inside, with Oh, the Places You’ll Go! on top.
She’d also included a small velvet box. Inside was the crescent moon necklace she’d bought herself on the cruise, something for Davie to wear when she got older. It was the one that nice cruise director had complimented. She hadn’t thought about him in months. Julian, she thought was his name. She remembered how desperate she had been for him to keep her company in the coffee shop in St. Kitts. Or was it Sint Maarten? She could hardly remember. Now she had actual friends. Lynn was only one of the women she’d connected with at the addiction center. There was Kathryn, a retired schoolteacher, and Abigail, a freelance chef. These women were enriching Elise’s life and making it bearable that Darius was going all the way to the University of Maryland next fall. The choice seemed random to almost everyone but her and Mitch, who knew that after Darius got home from the cruise, he had done an exhaustive internet search on Maryland, trying to locate a place called Harvard Cleaners. Puppy love was so magical and adorably unrealistic that Elise and Mitch were happy just to watch it from the sidelines. Apparently in his Googling he’d come across U of M and gotten hooked. Thanks to a killer personal essay and a loan from Freddy—Elise and Mitch had refused an outright gift—Darius was headed there next fall.
“Can’t believe it’s been a year since the cruise. It was kind of fun, looking back on it,” Elise remarked. “I never thought I would participate in a pie-eating contest or a conga line or an eighties roller-skating party, let alone within one week.” She pointed out the windshield. “Go straight for another five miles and we should arrive at Freddy’s.”
She double-checked that she was following the GPS correctly and saw Lynn had sent another text: Don’t forget to send me a picture of the baby! Elise responded, I won’t, adding a newborn emoji with a thumbs-up. Darius had patiently schooled her in emojis and she was quite enjoying using them. To Rachel, she would text: How is your day going? and insert a stack of books. One time, feeling brazen from two glasses of chardonnay, she wrote to Rachel: Miss you . . . Hope you’re not wearing any anymore!
“And if we hadn’t gone on the trip, we wouldn’t even know the mother of our new niece,” Mitch said. “What time do Rachel and Darius get in?”
“Their flight lands at five p.m. so we should all be able to have dinner together. I can’t believe he said he didn’t want to leave work early to fly with us. Can this be our same child? Though I figure it has something to do with that girl Hannah in his grade. God forbid he should have three less hours in her presence.” Darius had moved on from Marcy, briefly fixated on a barista in town named JoJo (Elise had never seen their child quite so caffeinated), and then moved on to a girl he met at his summer job named Hannah, who—as far as Elise could see—had no visible piercings or tattoos. From her snooping, Elise knew that Darius was still in touch with Angelica, but it was platonic. Even though he was moving to her state in a few weeks to start freshman year, she was heading north to start her own college journey. At Yale.
“Rachel told me she’d like to bring her boyfriend home for brunch one weekend this fall,” Mitch said. “Apparently his parents visited in the spring and they took them out for dinner. Jed seems like a good guy. I was worried after that Austin broke her heart that she wouldn’t rebound so easily.”
Elise smarted a little that Rachel spoke to her father more than her about matters of the heart, but she tried not to show it. Rachel wasn’t really a daddy’s girl per se, and she certainly wasn’t a mama’s girl. She was just her own girl, much like Elise had been.
“That would be great,” she said flatly, and she saw it pass by in front of her face. Another elephant. She knew Mitch saw it too.
“This is it.” Elise pointed to a sign for an apartment complex that read THE PINES. “Look, they’re waiting for us.” She pointed ahead and saw Annette, Freddy, and Natasha standing outside by the building’s front entrance with a hot pink baby stroller over which they were all bent, mesmerized. As their car approached, they started waving and Freddy reached into the bassinet to lift Davie.
“She’s so cute,” Elise squealed and unbuckled before Mitch had even slowed down. “I need to get my hands on that kid.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Annette pulled the veal roast from the oven and set it down on a wire cooling rack. It had browned beautifully and the natural juices pooled in the pan, which would make excellent gravy. She hadn’t made a meal for the whole family in at least a decade, and even though she was working in an unfamiliar kitchen a fraction of the size of her own, with a hodgepodge of shoddy pots and pans, it felt good. The sting was that it wasn’t her entire family she was cooking for. David—her soul, her better half, her partner—was gone. In his place was Davie. A faka
kta name for a little girl, but the overture was so grand and surprising that Annette kept her mouth sealed shut.
From the living room, she could hear the tinny cries of the baby and everyone fussing over her, making suggestions of what could be wrong: wetness, gas, hunger. “She’s a baby,” Annette wanted to say. “They cry.” But she kept mum. It was instinct to try to solve a child’s problems and there was no sense in interfering. In fact, what she ought to say was that the new parents should prepare for a lifetime of this: trying to smooth out the wrinkles of Davie’s life.
Things were going well so far. Annette always had a bit of apprehension when the family gathered, but after surviving the cruise, she was more confident about their ability to coexist in close quarters. And the baby helped tremendously. A single coo could soften any rough edge.
She was staying at a hotel about four blocks away from Freddy’s place in one of the residential time-share units. No checkout date had been decided upon yet. Annette appreciated the proximity to Davie. She was needed to babysit every Tuesday while her parents went on “date night” and she was on call for whenever Natasha’s work schedule necessitated coverage. Freddy had arranged for Elise and Mitch and the kids to stay in a friend’s condo that was vacant for the week of their visit. Annette suspected that Freddy had actually rented the apartment for them on VRBO, because it was just too perfect for a family of four and too close to Freddy’s place, but she didn’t press him and, as far as she knew, neither did Elise.
Annette had been pleased to see Darius and Rachel arriving in stitches, giggling about some episode that occurred on the airplane that nobody else could follow. When she had Darius alone for a moment, she asked if he still kept in touch with the girl from the boat. He said yes, they emailed and texted, but were just going to be friends. Rachel had a boyfriend—Elise had told her on the phone—but so far nobody but Darius had met him. “He’s cool,” was all Darius would say, and Annette realized she would just need to wait. Rachel was still a young girl. There was ample time before she ought to settle down and take on the responsibilities of family. Both her grandchildren seemed like more mature versions of their boat selves. She ought to remark on that to Elise—remind her daughter what a fine job she was doing with those two.
Elise looked like a different person than she had on the boat. It was like a twenty-pound weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She was less snippy and less anxious, and she didn’t scoff when Annette suggested to Elise that she try a smidge of her skin-tightening serum around the eyes. A few times Annette had spied Mitch putting a thoughtful hand on Elise’s back or the two of them exchanging a quick peck. There was really no greater happiness than seeing a child settled into a happy marriage, and Annette and David had both remarked that Elise and Freddy had succeeded in that department. True, Freddy wasn’t married, but he and Natasha were clearly devoted to each other. It was just such a shame that David never got to hold his third grandchild—a little girl with almond-shaped eyes just like his that neither of them would ever have predicted would be born.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Annette called out and she heard an appreciative chorus of “great” echo back.
“Need help setting the table, Grandma?” Rachel asked, surprising Annette in the kitchen.
“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just go be with the family. I’ll take care of everything.”
Rachel nodded and retreated and within moments Annette heard her and Darius devolve into laughter again, still rehashing that same plane story. At the same time, Elise was explaining to Natasha the importance of a well-packed diaper bag while Natasha snapped endless photos of Davie. At least she had finally stopped taking selfies. Her entire focus, phonewise, had shifted to documenting Davie’s every move. The infant even had her own Instagram feed: @BabyDavie. Mitch was busy telling Freddy about how The Elephant was going. She heard Freddy thank Mitch for something, but couldn’t hear what it was, only Mitch’s response: “No problem. That’s what family is for.”
The roast was at its prime and the potatoes were crisped. She really ought to transfer everything onto serving platters. But instead she took a seat at the counter stool and tightened her favorite (and only) personalized sweatshirt around her, letting the chatter from the den float into the kitchen in a satisfying waft.
“Mom, you should be outside with everyone else,” Elise said, startling her with a warm hand on her shoulder. “I have to get started on your birthday cake.” She wasn’t used to her daughter fiddling in the kitchen. So much had happened in the past year. Big and small moments, the most sorrowful and the most joyful. Time didn’t stand still for anyone.
Another year.
Another birthday.
She looked up, willing David into the tableau for a moment. Then she stepped aside and let Elise have at the kitchen.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
So many talented and kind people helped make this book a reality, and I appreciate the chance to pay them a debt of gratitude here.
My editor, Kerry Donovan, is wise, encouraging, and thoughtful. She always “gets” my vision (and my jokes)! Best of all, she suffers my “little changes” with a smile. Stefanie Lieberman is my rock and my friend, and luckily also the star agent who works tirelessly on my behalf. Fareeda Bullert is a marketing whiz who never ceases to amaze me with her creativity and dedication. Lauren Burnstein and Tara O’Connor are a crackerjack pair of publicists who do the hard work of bragging about my work so I don’t have to. Adam Auerbach has done it again with another gorgeous cover. Sheila Moody takes copyediting to a whole new level, and I thank her for expertly tidying up all the places where I was sloppy. Kathleen Carter, I really appreciate that you deal with my million emails and never stop trying to bring attention to my books. Thanks also to Leigh Abramson, Cristina Alger, Sarah Blumenstock, Jamie Brenner, Lauren Smith Brody, Georgia Clark, Fiona Davis, Abby Fabiaschi, Talia Katz Friedman, Emily Giffin, Alissa Grad, Shoshanna Gruss, Charlotte Houghteling, Brenda Janowitz, Pam Jenoff, Robin Kall, Jill Kargman, Jenny O’Regan, Amy Poeppel, Susie Orman Schnall, Allison Winn Scotch, Maureen Sherry, Hamilton South, Molly Steinblatt, Jennifer Weiner, Stanley Zabar, Randy Zuckerberg, Tanya Zuckerbrot, and so many others who have been supportive in one way or another.
Andrea Katz of Great Thoughts’ Great Readers was a superb beta reader, and many of her suggestions made this into a better book. Jennifer Millstone was another star early reader, who made many insightful comments and also filled in my Aspen knowledge gaps with rapid-fire text responses.
My mom is a great editor and an even better cheerleader. My entire extended family has been with me on this journey, supporting me, loving me, fetching me wine, and listening to me complain about basically everything. You guys are the best.
William, you are the stuff dreams are made of. I couldn’t love you more.
To the best kids on the planet: Charlie, Lila, and Sam. There is no greater joy than being your mom. You make me proud and happy every day, even when you refused to go to the kids’ camp on our cruise.
I must pay homage to the late David Foster Wallace, whose seminal essay “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again” served as a great source of inspiration for me, in both its brilliant writing and its dazzling insights into the world of cruising. Michael Ian Black, Dan Saltzstein, Joyce Wadler, Kate Silver, and Mark Bittman have all written on the subject as well, and their tales of cruising regaled me, inspired me, and reaffirmed my belief that cruising brings out the best and worst in people. In the fictional realm, I particularly loved the approaches of Maria Semple, Jonathan Evison, and Ruth Ware, all brilliant writers who took cruising to places I didn’t expect—and I don’t mean literally Antarctica, Alaska, and the North Sea.
Finally, to my readers: I wouldn’t have a job if it weren’t for you. Thank you for reading my work, sharing your feedback, and keeping fiction alive.
Continue reading for a preview of Elyssa Friedland’s
&nbs
p; THE INTERMISSION
Available now from Berkley!
Five Years Earlier
Jonathan and Cass Coyne watched as the bride opened her mouth to receive the first bite of wedding cake, a four-tiered monstrosity covered in fondant roses and edible pearls. The groom, intoxicated, jammed the fork in too deeply and the bride gasped as the tines probed the back of her throat.
“Christ,” Cass said, reaching for Jonathan’s elbow. “These two need to work on their coordination. That first dance was nearly an amputation below the knee.”
Jonathan laughed. “Be nice!”
Jonathan and Cass had been married for just three months and had already attended four weddings since their own. They were at the age when their peers were coupling at rapid speed, and so the newly married Coynes were often bopping to “Celebrate” and clinking champagne glasses on the weekends. They’d developed a wicked party game (Cass’s invention, though Jonathan happily played along) where they would bet on how many years the bride and groom would last. They would record their bets on one of the monogrammed cocktail napkins and keep them in a locked desk drawer at home. Neither of them had yet to come up with what the prize for a correct prediction would be, other than the obvious satisfaction of accurate fortune-telling.
“I think these guys have ten years tops. They can’t dance, he’s a drunk, and she looks like she wants to murder him for shoving that buttercream flower down her throat.”
“Disagree,” Cass said, facing her husband. “She used to be really overweight and is still insecure because of it. And he was super awkward when he was younger—I can tell by the high school friends. It’s a perfect match.”
“That’s quite a calculated analysis, Mrs. Coyne,” Jonathan said. “So you’re going fifty-years-plus?”
The Floating Feldmans Page 33