“Yeah, it seems like the wrong time all the time, lately. The other night you didn’t have time to watch the game, yesterday you didn’t return my call, and now you can’t take a break for lunch. I get it.”
“Get what? It’s not about you.”
“I know. You have other things on your mind. Other people.”
“That’s not what I meant, Jake. Jake!” Peter turned, the half-opened package in his hand, but he was standing in the empty doorway watching Jake jog across the lobby toward the elevator.
Peter closed his door and dropped into his black leather chair. He stared at the New Year’s Eve photo Tara had had matted and framed for his desk. Then he put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. After a moment, he opened his middle drawer and pulled out a small, shiny photo with crinkled edges and a dog-eared corner curling a bit. He stared into Maddy’s beautiful hazel eyes with their green flecks. She seemed to be staring back at him. She was turning in his arms and smiling, the sunny beach and their bright crumpled towels a blur behind them, as Peter—twenty years younger—extended his arm to snap the photo.
He rubbed her face with his thumb gently as though touching the outline of her face, and he closed his eyes again.
Chapter 6
Home
Tara spent the entire ride to Chatham grilling Peter about his family. She lowered her window and stuck her head out like an excited dog.
“You’re going to get a stiff neck,” Peter said.
“The houses are so expensive! Which one is yours?”
“Not one of the expensive ones.” Peter smiled at her. “Relax. We’ll be there before you know it.”
“This is the beginning of the future. Today I’m meeting everyone in your family and all your close family friends. I need to hit them with a good impression.”
“You already know Jake, and you’re plenty close to Amanda. You know you’ll be fine.”
“I wish Janie and Hope hadn’t gotten sick at the last minute. I wanted Amanda to see me in my hour of glory. Honestly—children!”
“Don’t worry.” Peter paused. “You’re a wonderful woman, Tara.”
“Oh, you’re too kind.”
“Besides, you’ve never been nervous about meeting people. Aren’t you Miss Confident? You weren’t nervous about meeting me.”
“How do you know that?”
Peter glanced at her. “Please, Tara. Two minutes after we left the restaurant, you were pressed against me in the cab and you followed me into my apartment and started unbuttoning my shirt before I had the key out of the door. I don’t think that falls under the category of the insecure type, do you?”
“I was just reacting to your signals.”
Peter sighed and patted her knee. “I was trying to be a gentleman.”
They drove down a winding road overlooking the water’s edge, sailboats on the Sound and fishermen everywhere they looked, until they came around a corner to a street of more ordinary homes situated closer together. One house stood tall at the end of the cul-de-sac, a two-story grey and blue Cape Cod with a large hand-painted sign, ‘Grey Gull,’ and a mailbox tied with lavender balloons.
“Let me guess!” Tara exclaimed.
“Hope you like lavender.”
Tara leaned over and kissed him. “Totally! In France it’s the color of money.”
Peter laughed as he watched Tara jump in her seat like a child.
Sheila ran out as soon as they pulled into the carport, signaling Richard to help with the bags.
“I should have warned you, son. It’s going to be a long day.”
“You look great, Dad!” They embraced by the curb.
“Let me help you with your stuff.”
“Please just take this. It’s desserts Tara bought from a bakery on Market Street.”
“Desserts? Wait until you go inside. She’s been baking since Thursday.”
There was no doubt that Sheila Michaels knew how to throw a party. She had opened the patio doors and placed candlelit lanterns on two black iron tables outside, while the stairs to the dock were illuminated with simple candle-lit mason jars. A small white tent stood outside with a round, white table beneath it holding wine glasses and bottles of wine. There were hors d’oeuvres and finger sandwiches on silver trays on the kitchen island, and on the dining room table stood a beautiful cake with two doves bearing the names of Peter and Tara. Fresh lavender and blue flowers in vases were scattered throughout the rooms.
By dark the house was bursting with guests, family, friends, and neighbors. Sheila wore a long dress in lavender, and Richard had on his usual Country Club attire, a black suit and tie. Tara had put on a black dress tapered above the knee with black satin stiletto heels, and she sat with Peter’s sister Amy and a young man with quick eyes and an anxious smile. Sheila leaned on the arm of the couch next to Tara flipping through endless photo albums of Peter’s childhood.
Peter still wore his jeans and loafers with just a white dress shirt, and every moment he got to himself he ducked into the kitchen to check his answering machine.
He’d studied the original designs from the Zoning Commission the night before and followed up with phone calls to Mayor Fleming’s office and the Township Department, leaving messages about what appeared to be an oversight in the budget. The amount of land his annex occupied had not been accounted for, and after close examination Peter was convinced the original plans—not the plans the Mayor’s office submitted to the architects, but the actual documents—did include the area in question.
“Nothing!” Peter hung up the phone.
“Waiting for something?” Richard surprised him.
“Just a message from the Mayor’s office. It’s fine. It is Saturday, so I might have to wait until Monday morning for them to get back to me.”
“Well, don’t stay in here. Ernie wants to say hello.”
Peter looked up. The Michaels’ neighbor Ernie Grant wasn’t either the most charismatic or the most interesting of men, but he was Richard’s closest friend and had once been good friends with the Marsdens when they had lived across the street.
The Patriots and the Red Sox were always the primary topic of conversation in Chatham circles, and ten minutes later Peter was about to shift the conversation to the Marsdens when his mother interjected.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, honey, but I need you to help me get a few things out of the oven.” Sheila smiled at Richard.
“Sure thing. Peter, tell Ernie about the Library Restoration Project you’re working on.”
“What library?” Mr. Grant asked.
“In Boston, a historical project I’m bidding on. Actually, Mr. Grant—”
“Call me Ernie.”
“Ernie, I wanted to ask you something, if I may. Do you remember the Marsdens?”
“Tom and Ann? Of course.”
“Have you been in contact with them?”
“Well, I haven’t thought about them in quite a while.” Mr. Grant cleared his throat. “We haven’t seen them in many years. I know my wife mentioned we’ve been getting Christmas cards again, but that’s about it. From Colorado, I believe.”
The word Colorado made Peter almost giddy.
“I’m guessing your next question is going to be about Madeline?” Mr. Grant’s voice became suspicious.
“Now that you mention it, sir, yes. How is Madeline?”
“For a soon-to-be-married man, you sure are interested in the whereabouts of your ex-girlfriend. I may be old, but I’m not senile. I hear your names are still carved on the Chatham lighthouse. Peter, what do you want to know?”
“Please, sir. Don’t take this the wrong way. I was just curious.”
“Curious about what?” Richard’s voice startled Peter.
“Your son was asking about the Marsdens.”
“There’s a name I hadn’t heard in a while. Do you ever hear from them?”
Peter’s forehead was dripping with sweat. He waited for his father to ask the next question.
“Where are they now?”
“Tom and Ann live in Denver. Kate’s married and has three kids. And Madeline—”
Peter stopped breathing.
“I believe she’s a teacher in some special private school.”
“Wonderful to hear! Peter, your fiancée sent me to get you. You don’t mind, Ernie?”
“Not at all. Peter and I had just finished.”
A moment of clarity, a glimpse of reality, and Peter was suddenly closer to Madeline than he had been in twenty years. He was filled with euphoria, with the eerie juxtaposition of fate. All the women in the room seemed to study him as he made his way toward Tara. He was within a few feet of her when he realized what she was saying.
“It happened so fast! Totally crazy, just like a movie. It was a few minutes to twelve, and the room was crowded. I was amped, and I know Peter was, too. We were carried away on the moment. Even the air felt hot.” She glanced sidelong at Peter. The guests Tara stood among laughed, and she gave Peter a seductive smile and kissed him. “It’s still hot!” She giggled, linking her arm through his.
Peter patted her hand and smiled gently. It had been New Year’s Eve at Jake and Amanda’s house, and he’d had a cold, not at all thrilled about kissing at midnight. He never liked to be around anyone on New Year’s Eve anyway, ever since he was a young man. However, Tara had insisted they go, and as Jake and Peter had toasted to their friendship a few minutes before twelve she had run over and pulled Peter by the hand.
“Come on, baby. We have to do this now.”
He had hesitated.
“Before the clock strikes twelve.” She made her eyes big.
“What has gotten into you?”
She tugged his hand, pulling him into the center of the living room, and gave him a glass of champagne, then tooted her New Year’s Eve horn and yelled out to the crowd. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m stoked to see this guy wearing a wedding ring!”
“What?” Peter cried.
“We should tie the knot! What do you think, lover?”
The temperature in the room went up 100 degrees, and the crowd seemed to suck the oxygen from the air. Jake laughed, winking, and the crowd began to clap and chant. “Do it! Do it!”
Tara planted a kiss on Peter’s stunned lips, and friends yelled out their congratulations. As the clock chimed twelve, she raised her fluted champagne glass and announced that she and Peter were engaged.
“Peter?” Tara pulled on him possessively now. “Tell them how you were falling all over yourself to propose to me before midnight.”
Peter looked at her and ran his hand through his hair. “Oh, Tara.” His voice was patiently strained.
Later that evening, Peter found Richard in the den while Tara’s voice rang out from the kitchen where Sheila and Amy were cleaning up. Peter had seen Mr. Grant at the party quietly relay an earful to Richard.
“Why the sudden interest, Peter?”
“Dad, it’s been twenty years.”
“Yes, long over and done with. I thought you had put all that behind you. Don’t you think Tara would mind? Digging up an old girlfriend?”
“That’s not what I’m doing. I just found a few things recently that made me remember, and I realized that after all this time, I still do not know why she left. It frustrates me that I’ll never know.”
“There are things in life we will never know the answers to. That’s just one of its mysteries.” Richard patted his back.
When Peter followed Richard into the kitchen, Sheila handed him two black garbage bags. Peter kissed her cheek and hefted the bags over his arm. “The party was really something, Mom.”
“Anything for you and Tara, Peter. You know that.” Sheila smiled over her shoulder as she hurried past him after Richard, calling to him through the arch into the living room.
“Mom did it all herself.” Amy sat on a kitchen stool by the island with a glass of wine. “She didn’t let us do a thing. She’s so excited about the wedding.”
“I know she is.” Peter brushed his hair with his hand.
Amy studied him. “What’s up, Peter? You’re doing that thing you do with your hair. That stressful, I-don’t-know-what–to-do thing.”
Peter looked at Amy and laughed quietly.
“You didn’t think I picked up on that, did you? I’m your sister, for crying out loud. I know you like the back of my hand. Just ‘cause I’m younger doesn’t mean you can fool me. I miss you, you know.”
“Me, too.” Peter leaned over and kissed her.
“And I’m here if you ever want to talk.”
“Thanks, sis. I just—”
“There you are.” Tara came into the kitchen behind Peter. “I thought you were hiding from me.”
“Why would I do that?” Peter glanced at Amy, who covered a smile. He fumbled with the garbage bags. “I’m going to take these out.”
“Do you need a hand?” Tara asked in a lowered voice.
“Thanks, Tara. I’m good.” He slipped out the door before she could follow.
Once off the back porch, he stood looking up at the full moon in the navy-blue sky. He put the garbage bags by the curb and walked away from the house across the dewy lawn. The moon was bright, and the air felt fresh. He could smell the ocean in the evening breeze. He lifted his head and closed his eyes. Where was Maddy tonight? Was she outside somewhere in Colorado at this precise moment? Could she see the same moon? His hands twitched, remembering the feel of her soft skin, the laughter in her hazel and green eyes, the tiny wrinkles at the top of her nose. He remembered her soft voice on the phone, all those hours of talking late into the night, and the heat of the sun on the beach as they lay on a plaid blanket, her legs tangled in his, their fingers laced, smiling into each other’s eyes. He imagined her hands in his as she reached up on her toes to kiss him and whisper in his ear, as she had so often done, “Love you forever.”
He felt a sudden stabbing pain in his chest, and he opened his eyes to see the house across the street that had once been the Marsden home. Moonlight shone on the roof and glimmered on one pane of glass. He felt so close to Maddy at that moment under the moon in the Chatham sea air.
Amy was alone when Peter came back into the kitchen. “What did you think of Lance?”
“Who’s Lance?”
“My boyfriend! Who do you think? I’m finally happy.”
“I’m glad for you, Amy. Really, I am.” He put his arm around her.
“Wedding jitters, big brother? Is that what’s stressing you? If it helps, I like her. She’s got a bossy side, but sometimes you could use a little direction. I just hope—well, I shouldn’t say.”
“Tell me.” Peter bent to look into her eyes.
“I worry about you.” Amy shifted her weight on her stool, fingering her wine glass.
“You don’t have to, honestly.” He leaned against the island and folded his arms against the urge to run his hands through his hair again. “My life is crazy, I know. I have a lot of pressure right now. This Library Restoration Project is turning out to be incredibly complex. It could change my career.”
“It’s not just the job. It’s Tara pressure, too, right? She wants you to focus on her.”
Peter glanced at Amy.
She gave him an understanding look and took his hand. “I’m not oblivious, Peter. I can see she’s on you constantly. You’re not used to that. Mom’s not like that, and Madeline sure wasn’t.”
Peter felt a sudden surge in his heart at the sound of her name.
“Yes, Madeline.” Amy squeezed his hand. “I know you don’t talk about it, but you two were in deep. I remember. You had this energy when you we
re with her. It was—mesmerizing—”
Peter turned quickly at his mother’s voice, and Sheila came in talking over her shoulder to Tara. “I wish you would stay the night. I hate to think you’re going to be driving. I have Peter’s old room set up the same except for my treadmill, and all I have to do is put clean sheets on the mattress. You could sleep in the guest room.”
“Thanks, Mom,” said Peter, “but—”
“Tara loves the idea.” Sheila turned to her. “Didn’t you say that?”
Tara’s face was glowing. “And how! I know Peter secretly wants to.”
“I’m out-numbered.” Peter glanced at Amy. “Sure, we can stay, but I need to be home early tomorrow. I have a lot of work before Monday morning.”
Sheila jumped up and clapped her hands. “It will be just like old times. Our son sleeping in his room—”
“With his hot girlfriend right downstairs?” Amy laughed.
Tara raised her eyebrows at Amy and gave her a calculating smile.
Richard came into the den a few minutes later to find Peter behind the old family desk in the dark listening again to his phone messages.
“The Mayor?” Richard asked.
“Close. Bill Torres left a message responding to my inquiry about what I discovered through the original plans and Zoning Commission. He says he relayed the message to Mayor Fleming, and he would be open for discussion and re-evaluation. The Zoning Adjustor has said he doesn’t anticipate any problems. They want to see me first thing at eight o’clock Monday morning at the Mayor’s office. Dad, I have to get something together. I need to look at the plans again and prepare my essay.”
“Did you bring them?”
“They’re at home.”
“Please tell me you’re still going to stay.” Sheila put her arms around Richard from behind. “I’ll wake you both up bright and early tomorrow so you can get home on time.”
Peter looked into her mother’s eyes. They were older than he remembered, and her face had changed with age, the wrinkles thrown into relief by the cast of light from the hall doorway. She was getting tired. He realized he didn’t spend enough time with her. “Of course we’ll stay.” He smiled.
The Shoebox Page 5