by Nancy Thayer
“Heather. And no, I don’t. Heather does the research. She and her husband have a house here, so they know whom to contact. She’s friends with Michael Molinar, who owns Flowers on Chestnut, so he can advise her about what will work. Then she shows us the possibilities for tents, menus, music, and so on. David and I discuss and decide and Heather implements our decisions. It’s like throwing a party and having it catered.”
“But it’s your wedding,” Felicity stressed.
“Yes, and it will be here, isolated from the world,” Alison responded. “Nature will be our cathedral. The sky and sun and waves will be our witnesses. David and I have so much, all we need. David worked hard all his life. We’ve both lost our beloved spouses. It’s a miracle that we’ve found each other. We want to share our great good fortune and our joy by giving our family and friends a wonderful fairy-tale weekend.”
Alison’s face glowed as she spoke. Felicity and Jane looked at each other, surprised by so much passion coming from their mother.
“I’ve never heard you talk that way before,” Jane said softly.
“I’ve never felt this way before,” Alison replied with a smile. “Now. Let’s skip dessert and go into town, shall we? I’m in the mood to shop!”
Nantucket had many fabulous stores along the brick tic-tac-toe grid of the main town and also along the wharves in boutiques that had once been fishermen’s shacks. They surrendered to a shopping mania, drunk on color and fabric and glitter and style. At Murray’s Toggery, Alison bought Felicity and Jane clever little tops and capri pants and some Jack Rogers sandals, which, Alison said, everyone wears. Felicity found tops at Vis-A-Vis that were loose and flowing, very romantic, with lace or embroidery, not at all the blue-and-white-striped things that screamed I own a yacht. Both girls found silk shirts and light jackets at Zero Main. Alison noted with satisfaction that Felicity didn’t make any kind of a fuss about trying on such gorgeous clothes.
They drove home in the late afternoon. When they walked into the house, they stopped dead, as if in a trance.
“Bread!” Jane cried. “Ethan’s baked the bread!”
They dropped their shopping bags and hurried into the kitchen. Ethan was there, huge and masculine in board shorts, a T-shirt, flip-flops—and an apron.
“This is every woman’s dream.” Jane sighed. “A handsome man in the kitchen.”
“Good to know,” Ethan joked, and he flashed a glance at Jane, who blushed.
Alison’s radar pinged. What was happening to her serious, sensible daughter? She stepped between them. “It smells like it just came out of the oven.”
“It did.” Ethan dried his hands. “I took the butter out of the refrigerator a while ago to soften it. And I made fresh lemonade. With real lemons.”
“Can we keep him, Mom?” Jane joked. “Maybe chained in the basement?”
“We’ll let him out to cook for us,” Felicity added, sliding around the table to gaze down at the crusty loaf.
They sat at the table eating the warm, crusty bread, almost incapable of conversation. Afterward, Felicity and Alison went upstairs to nap after their hard day of lunching and shopping.
“I’m going down for a swim,” Ethan said.
Alison paused with her hand on the bannister, waiting to hear what Jane would say.
“Have fun,” Jane said. “I think I’ll read for a while.”
“That’s boring. You can read anytime. But a day like today is rare. Come on. Swim with me.”
Jane hesitated. She’d told him this morning she was married and would not betray her vows. And after all, he was only inviting her to go for a swim. But the thought of them together in the silky water, buffeted against each other by the waves, their bodies bare except for the merest strips of clothing…she was appalled at how much she wanted to swim with him.
She stood up. “Actually, I think I’ll take a nap. All this sun and good food is acting like a tranquilizer. Enjoy your swim.” She left the room. She almost ran.
* * *
—
In the early evening, they all piled into Alison’s Jeep and headed out to Madaket. Felicity rode in the passenger seat, with Jane and Ethan in the backseat. Alison kept checking on them in her rearview mirror. Stop it, Alison told herself. They’re adults.
She focused on her younger daughter. “Felicity,” Alison said, “I want to know all about my grandchildren. How are they? Details, please.”
Felicity brightened. “Well, Alice is, as you know, finishing first grade. She’s an excellent student and she has lots of friends, and at home she’s intolerably bossy!”
Alison laughed. “First children often are.”
“I can hear you!” Jane reminded them.
“And as for Luke! He likes running and yelling at the top of his voice.” Felicity reached into her shoulder bag. “Here. I’ve got new photos on my phone. I took them before I came.”
“I’ll look at them when we’re settled on the beach,” Alison said. She steered the Jeep off the main road onto a narrow lane blocked by a railing and a gigantic sand dune. “Girls, Ethan, here we are!”
Alison parked the Jeep at the end of the road. “Everybody has to carry something,” she said, clicking the hatch door open. “I’ll take two beach chairs. Ethan, can you get the others?”
“Got them.”
“I’ll take the coolers,” Jane said, reaching in for two blue and white plastic containers.
“Um, I’ll take the picnic basket,” Felicity said unhappily, because she was stuck with the most cumbersome object.
“It’s too heavy for you to carry alone,” Ethan told her. He tucked the beach chairs under his arm. “I’ll take this end.”
It was a real hike to get to the top, but once they were there, they looked down to see Madaket Beach spread out before them in butterscotch perfection, and waves coming all the way from Europe to spill lazily onto the sand.
“Gosh.” Felicity sighed. “This is amazing.”
“It is,” Alison agreed. “Now you know why I wanted to bring you girls out here. Most people go to the Jetties Beach or Surfside, but I think this is my favorite.”
Laughing, they half-walked, half-slid down the dune. They chose a spot and set up the beach chairs, one on each corner of the red-and-white-checked cloth Alison took from the hamper. The sun was already slanting down in the sky—it was late, almost seven-thirty.
They sat back in their chairs, their bare feet in the soft sand, watching the waves roll up and sink into the sand. For a few moments, no one spoke.
“It’s hypnotic,” Jane murmured.
“The quiet,” Felicity said. “I love how quiet it is, only the sound of the waves, and no child crying.”
At that moment, a gull flew overhead, screeching. Everyone laughed.
“Ready for wine?” Ethan asked.
“Absolutely,” Jane said.
Alison turned to her daughter. “Felicity, let me see your phone. I want to look at the photos of your children.”
Felicity happily handed it to her. Alison scrolled through the pictures, laughing and exclaiming at her grandchildren’s sweet faces, silly postures.
“Let me see,” Jane asked.
Ethan took the phone next. “You’ve got really adorable kids,” he told Felicity.
Felicity beamed. “Thanks.”
Alison set out a late evening snack. They were still full from the bread but needed something more. Deviled eggs. Carrots and broccoli. Cheddar cheese and grapes.
“Do you have children, Ethan?” Felicity asked.
Ethan smiled. “I do. A daughter. Canny—she’s named after Cantuta, the Peruvian national flower. It’s supposed to be magic, and we’re experimenting with it on the farm—not in a magic mushroom way. Canny lives with me during the school year and spends the summer months and winter vacation with her moth
er in Peru.”
“Your wife, ex-wife, her mother, lets her daughter live with you most of the time?” Felicity was stunned.
“It was Canny’s choice. She skypes with her mother almost every evening.” Ethan met Felicity’s shocked gaze calmly. “My ex-wife, Esmeralda, is a lawyer. Her father is a judge in Lima. She’s brilliant and ambitious. When we married, she gave living on my farm a good try, but it’s isolated, in upstate Vermont. She’s a city girl. She speaks five languages, and she’s seriously involved with the politics of her country.”
“How did you meet her?” Jane asked.
“I was traveling through South America. I had a friend in Lima, a guy I’d gone to boarding school with, and I stopped for a few days to see him, and I met Esmeralda at a party. We were married six months later.”
“How romantic,” Alison said. “What was your wedding like?”
“We had two of them. First, in Peru. Esmeralda is Catholic. Then, a second wedding on our farm.” Ethan laughed ruefully. “We had two weddings, one child, and not much of a marriage.”
“Very different weddings?” Jane asked.
“Absolutely. The first was in the Cathedral Basilica of St. John the Apostle and Evangelist. A magnificent cathedral in the heart of downtown Lima. We had several hundred guests, and Esmeralda”—Ethan smiled, remembering—“resembled a walking five-tiered wedding cake as she came down the aisle. Enough lace and glitter for five brides. Then, on the farm, it was the exact opposite. We had a tent in the yard in case of rain, but it didn’t, so we held the ceremony in the orchard when the trees were blooming. We had about forty guests, including various dogs, cats, and ducks. The reception was in the barn.”
“And what did Esmeralda wear then?” Felicity asked. “Sorry for a girly-girl question.”
“No problem. She wore a kind of long white slip embroidered with daisies and stalks of wheat. She had it designed and made for her. And a wreath of flowers in her hair. And red cowboy boots with sparkles. We had a country-western band and a barbecue and we danced and partied until sunrise.”
“Sounds fabulous!” Jane said.
“Why did you two divorce?” Felicity asked.
“Felicity,” Jane said.
“What?” Felicity smiled sweetly at her sister. “I’m just trying to get to know Ethan. After all, he’s going to be our brother.”
“Stepbrother,” Jane corrected.
“We wanted two completely different lives,” Ethan said. “It’s as simple as that. I’m not sorry. I got Canny out of the deal.”
Felicity telegraphed a look at Jane.
“Look.” Alison pointed to the sky. “This is the part I love, when the sun’s rays turn the edges of the clouds pink.”
They were silent for a while, watching the spectacle of the slowly setting sun.
“Oh, Jane,” Felicity said spontaneously, “isn’t it wonderful here on Nantucket? Let’s make plans to come back here as often as possible. I’ll bring the children, so you can get to know them.”
“I want some time with them, too!” Alison reminded Felicity.
“Sure, Mom. Then Jane and I can spend some—what is it called—quality time together.”
“That’s a good idea, Filly,” Jane said. “Yes, let’s come here as often as possible this summer.”
Maybe it was the way the sun slanted in Felicity’s eyes, but it seemed that Jane was looking at Ethan, not at Felicity, when she spoke.
seven
Sunday morning, Felicity stayed snug in her bed, luxuriating in the pleasure of this weekend: the incredibly blue ocean, the sea breeze, the sun on her shoulders, the delicious food, yesterday’s massage, and, she had to admit, the blissful silence, the utter luxury of walking and talking without being pulled on or summoned by a child’s cry.
Yet she missed her family. After she’d showered and dressed, she picked up her iPhone.
“Mommy Mommy Mommy!” Luke screamed into the phone, inadvertently pushing all the buttons so that beeps and rings interrupted his voice. And then the phone went dead.
Felicity waited a few seconds and tried again. “Hi, Mommy.” Her older child, her competent daughter, Alice, had the phone now. In the background, Luke, deprived of the phone, was shouting.
“How are you all, darling?”
“Daddy’s letting us watch cartoons!”
“Oh, how special,” Felicity cooed, as a flick of resentment stung her. Noah didn’t like her allowing the children to watch television.
“And Ingrid came over last night to bring us dinner and watch a movie!”
Felicity rocked backward, hit hard in her chest. “Ingrid came over?” she echoed.
Ingrid came over. Ingrid Black was Noah’s assistant at work. Felicity had met her at the company party last Christmas. Fifty people, more or less, milled around the large function room at the Marriott hotel in Newton. It had a great view of the Charles River, or it did during daylight hours. In December, it was dark at five, although you could still see the sparkling lights of cars passing on Commonwealth Avenue.
Luke was five and Felicity joked that she still hadn’t lost all her baby weight. Her breasts were plump in spite of all the nursing she’d done, so she’d worn her prettiest dress, cut low to show off her cleavage, falling in loose layers over her stomach and hips. She’d had her hair coiffed at a salon, a luxury for her, and she’d had the time to put on lipstick and blush and eyeliner because Crystal, their babysitter, was already there, reading to the children.
Noah wore a black cashmere turtleneck and black pants. “You look very Steve Jobs,” Felicity had teased, and Noah had not laughed. In the car on the way to the hotel, they hadn’t really talked, even though thirty minutes together without a child shrieking was a rare experience.
Felicity had tried. “I’m wondering if you could do some boy stuff with Luke,” she’d said. “He’s wildly energetic. I bet he’ll be a natural at sports.”
Noah sighed. “I’ll try. But you know this is a critical time for Green Food.”
Felicity felt her mouth tighten into the disapproving moue she kept making without thinking these days. It was always a critical time for Noah’s business. Lighten up, she ordered herself. Frantically, she searched her brain for a topic she could discuss that wasn’t about the children or why the downstairs toilet kept clogging. Something fun. But she didn’t even know celebrity gossip these days, so she’d been silent for the rest of the ride.
Noah had his hand on Felicity’s back when they entered the party, but he was so much the star that he was quickly surrounded by his staff. Felicity had gone off to the bar to get a glass of wine. She’d settled alone at a table, watching the crowd, smiling to see how the staff clustered around Noah. He would be in such a good mood for the next few days!
One woman gazed up at Noah with shining adoration. She was short and her face was—Felicity chided herself for even thinking this, she was a feminist after all!—ordinary. She always tried to be generous with her thoughts even if no one else could hear her thinking them. Well, Felicity had thought kindly, the woman has blond hair. Blondes are always special. She knew. She was blond.
“May I join you?” Another wife, married to one of the scientists experimenting with green food, sat at the table.
“Of course. I’m Felicity.”
“I’m Cynthia Levine. Goodness, look over there, Ingrid Black is about to climb up her boss’s arm.”
Felicity had felt her mouth tighten as she looked. Ingrid had both hands on Noah’s arm and was standing inappropriately close to his body. “That’s my husband. Noah Wellington.”
“Oops. Foot, meet mouth.” Cynthia had laughed. “I wouldn’t worry. Men like our husbands need to be worshipped.” Her eyes had flicked over Felicity. “Besides, he’s not going to sleep with that when he’s got you.”
Felicity had shifted uncomfortably
in her chair. “That makes me feel…uncharitable.”
“Well, honey, don’t think for a moment that woman has any charity in her heart for you. Believe me. I know.”
Another company wife had joined them, and the conversation had changed to Christmas talk.
During the drive home, Felicity had said lightly, because Noah was in a relaxed, post-party mood, “I think Ingrid Black was coming on to you.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Noah had snapped. “Everyone comes on to me, I’m the boss.”
“And you are,” Felicity had said, softening her tone, “awfully handsome.”
He hadn’t replied.
Now her daughter’s voice brought her back to the present.
“Daddy said he couldn’t watch us and cook at the same time, so he invited Ingrid,” Alice explained sensibly. “She’s so nice, Mommy. She brought over Frozen! All right, Luke, jeez, don’t grab!”
“Hi, Mommy. I am Luke.”
“Yes, you are, sweetheart, and I love hearing your voice. What are you doing right now?”
Silence. Finally, “Mommy when are you coming home?”
“I’ll be home today, Lukey.”
“Mommy, Ingrid had food.”
“What kind of food, sweetie?”
“FOOD!” Luke yelled, as if his mother had gone deaf.
“Macaroni and cheese,” Alice prompted from the background. “And asparagus—”
“I hate aspagurus!” Luke screamed, before dropping the phone with a thud.
Felicity could envision it, their house phone usually cradled in the kitchen, now lying on the family room floor with the television blasting in the background.
“Luke?” she called. “Luke! Luke, I need to talk to your father!”
After a short wait, she heard rustling noises and Alice said, “Daddy says he can’t come to the phone now.”
“Can you ask Daddy to call me later? Can you remember that?”
Another thud. The line went dead.
Felicity put down her phone and sat very still, as if any movement would cause more chaos in her heart. Clearly the children didn’t miss her. That was a good thing, even if they were watching the evil television instead of doing creative crafts.