She Regrets Nothing

by Andrea Dunlop

  Reece was also thrilled by the news—and not a little bit surprised. Her brother, married! To her best friend! And he wasn’t yet forty. She’d known for some time that he was serious about Liberty, but marriage was something else altogether.

  Their mother, Elin, had settled on the family compound in South Hampton for the couple’s engagement party. The place was curiously named Lily Pond, though there was none of either of these things on the property—evidently there had at some point been a duck pond, which had been done away with when the tennis courts were put in a decade before—but the name lived on. It was undeniably a beautiful place, with acres of lush greenery and walking paths connecting the four guest cottages, the tennis courts, the two swimming pools, and the stables. There was a pristine beachfront where guests often took picnics out to the cabanas. The decor was all aimed at giving the effect of lightness, of cheer and innocence, of pure Waspy sensibility. It was laid-back only in the most cultivated way. One expected to come around the corner to find Martha Stewart in the midst of a craft project, or for Ina Garten to show up at the back door with dinner. Both had, incidentally, been guests at Lily Pond at one point or another.

  The morning of the party, Reece was summoned to Elin’s bedroom. Thatcher was already on the golf course with Cameron and a horde of his Harvard rowing buddies. Her mother was trying to choose among a pile of brand-new dresses she’d had sent over from Ted Baker.

  “Oh, good, you’re up!” Elin said when Reece padded in with a giant mug of coffee.

  “You say that like it’s noon.” It was not yet 8:00 a.m., and frankly, Reece could have used another hour of sleep. She’d been spending late nights in the atelier working on her line with Cece. Reece had no desire to be in her midtwenties again, but she had to confess she envied the way her younger friend was able to let her work consume her without a care in the world. When she was Cece’s age, not a single one of her friends was even in a long-term relationship.

  “Well, there’s so much to do today!” Elin said as Reece folded herself into the plush white armchair in the corner of the room, “but I can’t even focus on the rest of the preparations until I know what I’m wearing.” Elin’s wardrobe was elegant and exact. Her clothes were feminine and classic: Max Mara, Carolina Herrera, Escada—Ralph Lauren and Michael Kors for a more sporting look. No matter what, Elin always looked pulled together, which made everyone think the best of not only her, but of Thatcher and their children as well: What could ever go wrong under the watch of a woman like that?

  “I have it narrowed down: this one,” she said, holding up a floral tea-length dress, “or this one,” now a teal eyelet sheath dress with a narrow belt around the waist.

  “The second one,” Reece said decisively. “How many people are coming tonight?”

  “We have one hundred and fifty RSVPs,” Elin said matter-of-factly, “though you know people always show up with extras, especially out here. Someone always has a houseguest who just couldn’t possibly fend for themselves for an evening. But what matters is Liberty and Cameron, obviously.”

  Reece knew her friend would not actually enjoy a party in her honor, especially one of that size. She could barely be persuaded to do more than a quiet dinner out for her birthday every year.

  “You’re quiet this morning, my dear,” her mother said when Reece did little more than nod and smile. “What’s on your mind?”

  She couldn’t very well tell her mother that Liberty wouldn’t like the party. How strange that Elin would now be her best friend’s mother-in-law. Strange, though of course wonderful too, that they would all be a family.

  “I’m just a little overwhelmed by all of this. Liberty and Cameron . . . it’s just weird.”

  “It’s weird?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I don’t. I would think you’d be elated.”

  How could Reece explain? Of course she was happy about Liberty and Cameron; there were echoes of the sisterhood of her teenage fantasy. But she was also unsettled, and she couldn’t say why. It seemed her brother’s affections were a great tide that had lifted Liberty and carried her along. Whether getting married so soon was what Liberty truly wanted and needed, whether she was even ready for this next step, seemed another thing entirely. From the outside, there could be no more perfect match than these two, but one didn’t live life from the outside in.

  “It just seems fast to be getting married, I guess. Don’t you think?”

  “Well,” Elin huffed, “when you know, you know. And I imagine they’ll want to start trying for kids right away. Neither of them is getting any younger.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, you know what I mean. The two of them were meant for each other; I could always see it. It just took your brother a little longer to sow his wild oats than one might have hoped.”

  Reece understood then: Elin not only supported the proposal, she had helped engineer it. Of course her brother hadn’t come up with that perfect ring on his own. Left to his own devices, he might have gotten her some giant cliché rock from Tiffany that she would have loathed. But Elin was a woman of details; she would have noticed the stunning vintage jewelry Liberty wore on more formal occasions and would have recognized that that funny little charm bracelet she treasured was actually a valuable estate piece.

  “You think they’ll be happy together? I love them both so much, you know that.”

  Now her mother came and knelt down where Reece was sitting.

  “I really do, honey,” she said, taking her hand, “I know it in my bones.”

  Privately, Reece considered Elin the smarter of her two parents by a wide margin. She was wise, and though she didn’t know everything about Liberty, she had known her a long time. And no one was closer to her brother. Reece felt herself being drawn into her mother’s certainty about the match.

  Cameron and Liberty were staying in one of the more secluded guest cottages that featured a small porch looking out onto the ocean. Liberty woke early that morning and curled up in a thick robe with coffee and the novel she was reading. From here, with the grand estate far in the background and no other sign of civilization along the secluded stretch of beach, Liberty could fantasize that she was in some nothing little town on the Atlantic. This was what you paid for in New York: space, peace, the ability to create the illusion of isolation while actually being mere paces from the white-hot center of it all. Liberty was desperate to spend some time alone before the engagement party—for which they were to arrive at the main house no later than six. But before that, Elin had planned a rather full day for her, Liberty, and Petra, who would be arriving with Ben and Birdie that morning: brunch with Reece (thank goodness) and then a preliminary meeting with the house manager about the possibility of having the wedding on-site. No pressure! Just a thought.

  Liberty wasn’t the kind of woman who’d devoted a lot of time to envisioning her wedding in advance of having one to plan. But when it had crossed her mind—as it inevitably did during the parade of weddings that consumes one’s early thirties—she’d envisioned something small and simple. A tiny ceremony with her and her beloved plus a few close friends—somewhere out in nature, the woods, or a lush field—and a beautiful, bountiful dinner, passing hearty dishes along one big table. She understood that with the Michaels family, this sort of wedding would not be an option. But she wasn’t so attached to that, was she? She didn’t really care that much about the wedding itself, did she? Marrying Cameron was the main thing; as long as that happened, she didn’t mind all the fuss. She ardently shoved down the thought that perhaps life with Cameron might follow in much the same line as the wedding preparations were headed: that she might be expected to trade her lifestyle—circumscribed and deliberate—to be by Cameron’s side at business dinners, parties, and the innumerable charity events that Elin hosted. Well, they’d compromise, wouldn’t they? Introverts and extroverts got married all the time, didn’t they? And compromise was how every marriage worked out . . . was
n’t it?

  “What if,” Birdie began, bringing an immediate smile to Reece’s face and weariness to Elin’s, “Cameron came in on a white horse? Oh, wouldn’t that be divine?”

  “It’s an idea,” Elin smiled flatly. Petra closed her eyes, and Liberty smiled at her aunt.

  The house manager nodded cheerfully. “We’ll add it to the list!”

  “You know they do that in India,” she said, pronouncing it Injia, as though she’d morphed into a British colonialist. “Indian weddings are so stunning! So colorful! Liberty, wouldn’t that be wonderful? Oh, how breathtaking you’d look in a red sari! And the henna: it’s magnificent, really.”

  Liberty took her aunt’s arm. “I’ve never been to an Indian wedding. But it sounds amazing. Tell me, Birdie, when did you attend one?” And with this she had her aunt off on a story from her past: some boyfriend long ago who she claimed was related to a maharaja.

  Elin smiled at her daughter-in-law-to-be. How deftly she’d handled the outrageously tacky suggestion that they appropriate an entire culture’s wedding traditions. She was a quiet young woman, Liberty, but smart, poised, and so good for her son. She would be such an asset to him and to the family. Elin moved over next to Petra, as they made their way toward the beach.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said to Petra. “What an incredible time this will be for us all.”

  Petra smiled at her, a still-dazzling effect. “I’m overjoyed for Liberty. I’ve been hoping she would find the one, and look, there he is, right under her nose. Between you and me, I’d begun to worry, but you know how it is with these children; you can’t tell them anything!”

  “Indeed,” Elin said. Liberty and Petra looked so similar, and despite their many differences, Elin could see where Liberty had come by her self-contained grace; so unlike that other silly little flip of a daughter and her equally ludicrous though dashingly handsome twin. “Sometimes I think Reece may never come to her senses.” She whispered this, leaning into Petra’s shoulder, to avoid being heard by her daughter.

  “What have these girls got against marriage?” Petra said. “I’ll never understand it. I know that some of it, for me, is cultural, of course.”

  “I am equally as baffled, though Reece tells me she just can’t find anyone worth the trouble.”

  “Then she needs to look harder,” Petra said. “Reece is beautiful, and good men have always been hard to come by. You must be deliberate.”

  “Well, that’s certainly true,” Elin said. She hazarded a glance at her daughter, walking ahead of them, flanking Birdie, and looking wholly entertained by whatever the old bat was going on about. She hoped her daughter would find love, but in truth, Elin had never worried about Reece. It was always her other child who’d been the source of tumult. Cameron had kept her up nights and at times brought excruciating tension to her own marriage. But that was all in the past now.

  For his part, Cameron was thrilled about the giant party his parents were throwing in their honor, as well as the idea of an all-out extravaganza on the day itself. What was the point of a wedding if it wasn’t going to be a proper party? Though, of course, none of the wedding planning was expected to be his domain, and he spent the day playing golf at Shinnecock Hills with his father and his Harvard buddies. That evening as he and his new fiancée got ready for the party, he was dashing in a dove-gray suit and as cheerful as Liberty had ever seen him.

  “I’m so excited for you to finally meet all of my friends from school!” Cameron boomed as Liberty put the final touches on her makeup. She had realized between lunch and that evening that the beachy sundress she’d been thinking of would not be up to snuff for the party Elin had planned. Fortunately, she’d packed a cream Zac Posen maxi dress that looked a lot more formal. Reece had assured her this option would work.

  “You look gorgeous,” Cameron said as she joined him in the small foyer of the guesthouse. “Wait until they see you.”

  Though Cameron and Liberty had occasionally run into friends and acquaintances while they were out and about together in New York, they had spent most of their time one-on-one. Group outings and double dates had just seemed beside the point; they were so wrapped up with one another. Liberty, for her part, did not have so many close friends she felt the need to introduce to a fiancé. Namely, there was Reece.

  “Will we get along, do you think?” Liberty said as much to herself as to Cameron.

  “Are you kidding? They’ll love you.”

  In truth, Liberty wasn’t so worried about their liking her, but rather the opposite. The prep-school-turned-Ivy-League sons and daughters of fortune were a crowd she knew well and, for the most part, had assiduously avoided. But perhaps Cameron’s friends would be different; if he loved them, perhaps she could as well.

  The few minutes that comprised the walk to the main house were the last peaceful ones of the night. The moment Liberty appeared on the grand back patio where the alfresco engagement party was being held, she was shanghaied by Elin who had oh so many people she wanted to introduce her to. Liberty heard her and Cameron’s much-abbreviated love story told over and over again. There was nary a mention of Liberty’s career, her life’s work; really, she barely appeared in these conversations. But right, of course it was about them not her that evening, and Elin was just excited.

  At least the Lawrences were there as well. Petra mingled enthusiastically with Ben in tow: both were beaming. In fact, it occurred to Liberty that she’d not seen her father looking so happy in a very long time. Birdie was in a black Roberto Cavalli gown with an orange flame pattern licking up from the hem that she’d purchased for the occasion. It was breathtakingly inappropriate both for the venue and for a woman her age—but everyone at the party adored her, for every family was allowed one Birdie. Nora was busy ordering Larry around, lately her favorite pastime, and Leo seemed content to let Elin’s female friends make fools of themselves by flirting with him.

  Cameron spent most of the evening surrounded by a deep circle of his rowing buddies. At some point he stole his bride-to-be away from his mother in order to introduce Liberty to the pack of aging but still strapping jocks before their wives and girlfriends carried her off. The men clapped Cameron on the back and told him he was a lucky bastard.

  “Your and Cameron’s love story is just so cute,” one of the women—also recently engaged and therefore consumed with wedding giddiness—said to Liberty when they were sufficiently far from the menfolk. Was her name Kate? Kit? Kat? Something. “I mean, David and I just met through friends at a benefit. Boring!”

  Liberty had come to understand that her “love story” with Cameron was that he had always adored her but had waited until he knew he could be the man she needed before making his move. Of course, as she saw it, she had been the one with the early crush. Then they’d formed a friendship that had become something more. But she supposed everyone’s love story was glossed with a convenient layer of fiction at some point. Real love was complicated. Love did not make for tidy anecdotes. There was a Times reporter there that evening, and Liberty knew which version was likely to end up in print.

  “Cameron’s such a catch,” a horsey blonde named Lauren said. “I guess now we know why he never settled down.” Her voice sounded a little bitter. If the couples were correct in Liberty’s head, she was married to one of Cameron’s Wall Street buddies, who was tall and muscular but with a rather unfortunate face that featured an odd, crooked nose and eyes a bit too close together. Jesus, Liberty thought, where was Reece?

  “Because he was already in love with Liberty!” Kit, Kat, Kate chimed in, clasping her hands to her heart and sending the row of Hermès bangles on her wrist clattering.

  “Yes, well,” Liberty said, “we’ve known each other a long time. But we were friends first; I think that’s important.”

  “When’s the date? You’ll get married here? Such a good choice; it’s so gross when people choose a ‘venue.’ Like, do you want to have your wedding someplace other people have had t
heirs? Not special. It’d be like wearing a used wedding gown. Bad karma. I learned so much about that in my Buddhist retreat this spring; it was so life changing.”

  “Oh, we don’t have a date yet. We’re not in that much of a hurry,” Liberty said. They’d spoken vaguely of next summer, though having spent the day with Elin, she felt certain she would push for spring at least.

  “You need to lock down your date!” a third girl chimed in. They stood around Liberty in a circle, and suddenly she felt as though she were surrounded by wolves. “You don’t want the good vendors to book up. And you have to get on Maurizio’s calendar early.”

  “Maurizio?”

  “The only wedding planner you should use in the Hamptons! I can put in a call, but I don’t know. It just depends.”

  The conversation went on like this, and Liberty found, to her relief, that it was better if she mostly smiled and nodded. She found after twenty minutes or so she was even picking up their cadence: totally, ohmigod, thank you so much! Super excited.

  Fantasies of elopement played wildly in her mind as she counted the minutes to the party’s end.

  Laila wore the LOVE bracelet that night, but it suddenly felt insubstantial on her wrist. The day she’d received it, she felt it said to the world: I am loved, but now she silently heard those words followed by: but not enough. For a girlfriend, even a live-in one, was a disposable thing, she knew. A fiancée, a wife, was so much less so. There were legal ties and of course, perhaps even more crucial, financial ones. They were in the Montauk house that weekend, and as they prepared to head out to Lily Pond, Laila felt a flash of desperation to stay put.