by Nancy Thayer
She rolled over to her other side, and as if her thoughts were small wooden blocks, another thought clicked into place. Of course she couldn’t do anything about all this. Her daughters were grown, too. They were healthy, intelligent, capable women, and really, weren’t they being a bit…insensitive?…to dump all this on Alison just a few weeks before her wedding? They were, after all, relatively young. Alison was fifty-five. She had done her duty to the girls. She had kept them well fed and safe and loved for the first twenty years of their lives, and she had worked part-time to make special trips and clothes possible. Would this never end? Would they stand at Alison’s deathbed as she gasped for her last breath, tattling on each other and complaining about their problems?
Okay, Alison told herself, she was overwrought. After all, Felicity and Jane hadn’t asked for advice from Alison, they had simply shared their lives with her. How many women did Alison know who didn’t have that close connection with their children, who saw their children only at Christmas and had no clue what problems and joys they had?
But, to put the cherry on top of the dysfunctional sundae, Poppy was making a mess of her work for David’s company.
How foolish she’d been, thinking that David’s assistant would take care of all the arrangements for their wedding party. Alison wished she could send Heather a memo telling her to deal with Noah and Scott.
* * *
—
At some point, Alison must have fallen into a light doze, because it was after four when she opened her eyes. Yawning, she stretched, feeling wonderfully rested. She refreshed herself in the bathroom, brushing her hair, adding a touch of lipstick, and then she opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall.
“Well, I think you’re disgusting!” It was Poppy, hissing.
A man laughed. Alison’s mind sorted quickly and informed her: Ethan. Poppy and Ethan were downstairs in the front hall, arguing.
“Poppy, come on. Don’t be such a puritan. I’ve always flirted with women. You know that. It’s one of my hobbies.”
“I’m a puritan? You’re a slut.”
Ethan sighed and his voice was exasperated. “Give me a break. You’re just hormonal these days. You’re not seeing things clearly.”
“I’m seeing that you’re not divorced like you’re telling Jane and Felicity you are.”
“So? I’m separated. Moving toward divorce.”
“Yes, and how many years have you been separated?”
“We live in different countries. We’re both working,” Ethan said.
“Well, I’m going to tell Dad,” Poppy informed Ethan.
“That’s ridiculous. What are you, five years old? What’s Dad going to do, ground me? Besides, he’s got enough on his plate now, with you taking over the company.”
“What do you mean by that?” Poppy snapped.
“Calm down. I only mean it’s a big deal, stepping away from the family company. It’s a life passage. He’s stepping out of a lifetime as the chairman of a huge organization into being a retired old man.”
“Daddy will never be just another retired old man!” Poppy cried.
“I didn’t mean it that way. Come on, Poppy, let’s get a drink and chill. We’re getting way too dramatic about all this.”
“I can’t drink. I’m pregnant, remember?”
Their voices faded as they left the hall for the kitchen. Alison realized she’d been holding her breath. She absolutely did not want David’s children to know she’d overheard them. She wondered whether she should tell Jane that Ethan wasn’t actually divorced. But after all, Jane was still married to Scott.
The front door opened and her grandchildren thundered in, followed by Felicity and Jane.
“Swimming, yay!” Luke yelled, tossing his paper bag of new toys on the floor.
“Luke, no.” Felicity bent over to pick up the bag. “I told you and Alice if you kept on fussing you wouldn’t be able to swim anymore today.”
Aha, Alison thought, as both children went into fits of screaming. Here’s something I can help with.
Alison walked down the stairs and put an arm around Felicity. “Hello, darling.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’ve always thought that one should never give a punishment to children that makes it even more unpleasant for the mother.”
Felicity gawked. “What?”
“If they can’t swim, what will they do with all their energy?”
“Oh,” Felicity said. “Right. Clever.” She knelt down and brought her children close to her. “I’ve changed my mind. You can go swimming now, as soon as Jane and I get our bathing suits on. Because you were fussing in the car, you can’t have dessert tonight.”
Luke and Alice exchanged glances, agreeing without words: This was a compromise they could accept.
“Fine,” Alice said. “I’ll put on my bathing suit.”
“You, too, Luke. And don’t leave your clothes in the hall,” Felicity told them.
twenty-one
That night, Jane insisted she’d prepare dinner. She settled her mother and David in chairs on the deck with a pitcher of sangria and glasses rattling with ice. When Felicity offered to help, Jane said, “Absolutely not. This is my treat. Go have a drink with your husband.”
The four children had showered and shampooed and were outside playing an unorthodox game of badminton. Their shouts of laughter, their helpless giggles, drifted in on the light breeze. Jane smiled. The laughter was contagious.
She was making two different dishes: a comforting, familiar, tuna noodle casserole for the four kids and pasta with fresh tuna, red onions, olives, and shaved parmesan for the adults. She found several bottles of red wine to pair with the pasta dish and she’d poured herself a glass to enjoy while she was cooking.
She set the dining room table for the adults and the kitchen table for the four children. She set out a green salad and the wineglasses and was back in the kitchen, grating the parmesan, when she sensed someone entering the kitchen.
“Hey,” Ethan said.
Jane looked at him. His tan was more golden, his blond hair more sun-streaked, and his blue eyes flashed whenever he met Jane’s. After their adventure on the moors, they’d returned to the sleeping house and crept quietly to their own beds. The next day, as scheduled, they’d both flown home. Since then, he’d texted her once, and she had not replied. She was trying to be thoughtful about this. She was trying to be good.
“Hey,” Jane replied.
“Whatever you’re making smells delicious.”
Jane nodded toward the open bottle. “Pour yourself a glass of wine.”
Ethan did, moving slowly, deliberately, doing that thing he’d done the day they made the bread, coming just near enough to Jane that he almost touched her, then turning away. Her body responded. She wanted to reach out and pull him to her. She wanted to press her body against his.
“I texted you this week,” Ethan said, leaning against the counter next to the stove. “You didn’t answer.”
Her pulse was throbbing in every part of her body. She’d become a human engine of desire.
“Okay,” she said aloud to herself, “I’ve sautéed the tuna and the pasta’s bubbling. Salad’s on the table. I’ve got five minutes before I call everyone in for dinner.”
Ethan gently rested his hand on her wrist, turning her toward him. “Can we take a ride after dinner?”
This is how people need air, Jane thought. They might want to drown and hold their breath and sink into the ocean, but the body wants to live and bursts to the surface. The irony tonight was that Ethan was the air, and Jane had to force herself not to take it.
“Ethan, no. Wait, let me say this. I want to have sex with you, but I’m married, and so I won’t have sex with you.”
“Your husband is in Wales, right?”
“He is. And we,
Scott and I, are farther apart than we’ve ever been, and I don’t mean geographically. I’m angry at him, and I’m disappointed by him, and I don’t really know whether we’ll stay married or not—”
Ethan slid his hand up her arm so that he was touching the side of her breast. “I don’t see—”
“I can’t. I won’t. I mean it, I can’t betray my marriage vows.”
“Scott will never know,” Ethan said softly.
Jane shrugged. “Yeah, he will. Because I’ll tell him. Because that’s the way I am. I don’t know what I thought I was doing, Ethan, going to the moors with you. I’m crazy attracted to you, and I acted like a teenager. I’m sorry, and I’m not pleased with myself. But whatever you and I have going on, it has to end. I’m ending it.”
Ethan leaned forward, as if he were going to kiss her mouth, but he put his lips to her ear and whispered, “We’ll see about that.”
His whisper sent a shiver through her.
The buzzer sounded.
“Pasta’s ready,” Jane said. “Would you tell everyone to come in for dinner?”
* * *
—
By nine o’clock that night, all four children were zonked out asleep, the kitchen had been cleaned, the dishwasher was pleasantly churning, and the adults were gathered around the kitchen table playing poker.
Jane held five pathetically low cards, but she was good at keeping a poker face, so she matched the ante without a pause. After all, they were playing for kitchen matches.
The families were finally in a good space, she thought, studying those around her. Her mother and David were relaxed, shooting each other fond glances and making jokes.
Noah was low-key, drinking a beer and laughing at jokes, acting like a normal human being. Felicity was trying just a bit too hard to be sparklingly appreciative of every word that fell from Noah’s mouth.
Poppy was eating nuts and chips and anything within reach. “I’m a hog. I know. I’m eating for two.”
“For two hogs,” Patrick quipped, and instead of getting mad, Poppy replied, “Yes, honey, and we’re both yours.” And she snorted twice, loudly. So that was a side of Poppy Jane hadn’t seen before!
And Ethan. He sat on the other side of the table, between his father and Felicity.
When her eyes met Ethan’s, she felt a shock of desire so strong, she was surprised it didn’t set the air on fire around them.
She hadn’t heard from Scott since his first text. This silence angered Jane, made her afraid that Scott had decided the marriage was over, and a wriggling little wish for some kind of revenge made her think she would damn well disregard Felicity’s advice and take whatever Ethan was offering.
“Jane,” Alison said, “where do you think Scott is right now?”
Jane stared at her mother. How many times in her childhood and adolescence had Alison done this very thing, zeroing in on exactly what was in Jane’s mind at that very moment?
“Um, well, he’s in Wales,” Jane said, gathering her thoughts. “He wants to hike to the top of Mount Snowdon, which is only about thirty-five hundred feet but it’s a difficult and dangerous climb. The weather changes as you go up. It gets colder and the fog can be so thick you can’t see your hand in front of you. And he’s taking the Watkin trail. Miss a step and you plunge down either side…”
“Stop it,” Felicity said. “You’re scaring yourself. Don’t be so dramatic.”
“No, no, she’s right.” David spoke up. “I had friends who hiked there one summer. They had sweatshirts on, and halfway up they decided to snack on the Snickers in their pockets, and the candy bars were frozen hard. That path you mentioned is highly exposed and slippery, even when it’s sunny down below.”
“So that’s why you’ve seemed preoccupied,” Alison said. “I’ve been wondering. You’re not like your normal self.”
Jane didn’t dare look at Ethan, but she sensed that he was suddenly fascinated with his poker hand.
“Call him,” Felicity said.
“It’s the middle of the night there,” Jane said. “I’m being foolish. Scott’s an experienced hiker.”
“He is,” Jane’s mother agreed. “I’ve been amazed at the places you and he have gone together. I drool over your videos.” Alison looked around the table. “Have any of you ever been to Zermatt, Switzerland? It’s at the foot of the Matterhorn. I’m still reeling from the beauty of the photos you took there, Jane. You and Scott are a fascinating couple, traveling to such astonishing places. Those photos of you both climbing with ropes attached to you and your guide! My goodness, the trust you must have in each other. And yet, when you’re in the city, you both flourish in a completely different environment. You’re so urban and professional, and when you two took me to the fundraiser for the opera, you both looked like movie stars. Scott in a tux? A Ralph Lauren ad.”
Jane laughed. “Mom, I think you’re getting carried away.”
Felicity spoke up. “No, Mom’s right. Scott in a tux is a romance novel fantasy.”
David interrupted, “All right, enough adoration of Scott. You’ve got real men here and we want to play poker.”
Jane glanced down at her cards, but any concentration she’d had on the game had vanished. She couldn’t stop thinking about Scott and what her mother said about the trust Jane and Scott must share. It was true, they had been in places when they had physically relied on each other to ascend, to keep from falling, and whenever they reached their goal at the top of a ridge or open land after a narrow ledge, they’d shared such elation, they’d shouted and kissed and Jane had loved Scott so deeply and she had felt his love in return.
They had each other’s backs in their professions, as well. Staying up late into the night discussing problems at work, giving each other good advice and pointing out the blind spots. They’d flattered and charmed each other’s bosses at parties, they’d shared the effort of giving dinners at home for colleagues. They’d provided excellent sounding boards for each other’s creative thoughts, they’d cheered and drank champagne at celebrations and consoled one another with long talks deep into the night.
They were such good friends.
Never before had they come up against such a bump, a barrier, in the fluid river of their marriage. Their marriage was like a reliable, watertight craft that she had slammed into a rock, and she didn’t know if this vessel would split in two or somehow remain sound.
But she didn’t want to lose Scott. She saw that now; she felt it. She loved him and believed in his love for her.
“I’m out,” Jane said, tossing down her cards. “I’ve got to make a phone call.”
She left the table, not caring if Ethan watched her go.
In the privacy of her room, Jane tried Scott’s number.
No answer. She didn’t leave a message.
* * *
—
Sunday dawned hot and humid. After packing picnic lunches and coolers of cold drinks, the group headed to Coatue, the sandy peninsula of land with five points making five small coves. David sailed his catboat, which wasn’t big enough to take the entire group, so Patrick, who had handled David’s motorboat before, powered them through the harbor. Felicity worried that Noah would feel insulted because he hadn’t been asked to steer the motorboat and she sighed with relief when she saw Ethan hand Noah a lemonade and sit down next to him to talk.
It was, Felicity thought, a perfect summer day. They swam and ate and dozed in the sun. Jane led Alice and Luke on a beachcombing trek through the dunes, so both Felicity and Noah took a nap in the shade of the beach umbrellas.
They were all drowsy with heat and sunshine as they sailed back to the harbor, moored the boats, and drove through town to David’s house. Jane drove herself back to the airport to catch her plane back to New York, while Felicity ushered her children through showers and shampoos and into clean clothes. David
drove the Wellingtons to their plane. Noah shook hands manfully with David and promised to come back soon, but once they were in line for boarding, Noah whipped out his phone and ignored his wife and children. That was all right, Felicity thought. At least he’d come to the island. And he’d enjoyed his time with David and Patrick and Ethan. It was possible Noah had been charmed by the island and Felicity’s blended family. It was possible that the golden glow of Nantucket would make Noah forget whatever pleasures Ingrid was offering.
* * *
—
Everyone was glad to be home. Felicity tucked her children into their own beds. She started to pull on one of the old T-shirts she slept in, but a thought occurred to her. Noah had been silent on the drive home, but she was certain he’d had a good time. He had seemed to get along very well with David. So Felicity put on a nightgown, a real nightgown instead of a T-shirt, short and lacy and alluring. She went down to the den to seduce her husband.
Noah was sitting on the sofa, not isolated in a chair. A good sign. Felicity curled up in the arm of the sofa, facing him.
“So, did you have a good weekend?” she asked.
“Anyone could have a good time staying at a multimillion-dollar rich boy’s summer castle.” Noah’s words spilled out in a bitter surge.
Felicity was stunned. “But, uh, didn’t you think that David was nice?”
Noah turned to face Felicity and he was angry. “David should be nice with all that money.”
“Well, Noah, I don’t think there’s a correlation between wealth and niceness. Look at Bernie Madoff. Look at—”
“My point exactly! These guys who own the world are nothing more than conspicuously consuming crooks!”
“David isn’t a croo—”
Noah interrupted her. “Of course he is! He’s raping the island, despoiling the natural beaches, sucking up fuel for his damned powerboat, not to mention the house, the damned beach house, has air-conditioning! And heat!”