by Susan Wiggs
Max shrugged with elaborate nonchalance. “Okay.”
“Just okay?”
“I got a job with the Hornets,” he said, growing animated. “That’s way better than okay.”
“I’d say so. You’re a lucky boy, getting to work with a professional baseball team.”
“Yep. Nina got me the job. Nina Romano—she’s awesome.”
No shit, thought Greg. He hadn’t seen nearly enough of her lately, what with Nina’s daughter here, Sophie in town and the wedding in full swing. The inn was booked solid, a good portion of it with wedding guests, and everyone had been so busy, he couldn’t find enough hours in the day to steal away with Nina. If he had all the time in the world, he’d spend it with her—talking and laughing and making love. Being in love.
Max held out the silk bow tie at arm’s length. “How about we just forget about this?”
“You wish,” said Greg.
Charles was already standing up the starched collar. “Brace yourself,” he said. “I’m going in.”
“This is so gay,” Max said.
Greg laughed. “You think that’ll work on this family?”
“These shoes pinch.” He shuffled his feet, clad in gleaming black tuxedo oxfords.
“That won’t work, either.”
“I don’t see why getting married is such a big deal,” Max grumbled. “Most people end up divorced, anyway.”
Greg knew Max was trying to provoke a reaction. But this was no time for a big family discussion “Nice attitude, buddy.”
“It’s true,” Max insisted.
Greg felt his father watching him, watching them both. After having to tell his kids about the divorce, telling his parents was the second-worst thing he’d had to do. He’d felt like such a failure that day. He’d been so ashamed. They’d offered support but ultimately, Greg felt responsible for letting the love seep out of his marriage until it was impossible to recapture.
He took the silk tie from his father and looped it around Max’s neck so they were face-to-face. “Look, buddy. No one can predict the future. People fall in love and sometimes it lasts forever, like Nana and Grandpa. Other times, it changes, the way it did for your mom and me. That’s no reason to quit hoping for the best, though. That’s what a wedding’s about, being in love and trying your best to make it work. It’s what we want for Connor and Olivia, and it’s why we fasten our shirts with studs and wear bow ties.”
“Huh?”
Greg chuckled. “Just hold still and let me finish.” Afterward, he stepped back, feeling a surge of pride. “Check out my boy, Dad. He looks like a million bucks.”
He did. Max’s hair had been expertly styled by one of his girl cousins, and his face shone from scrubbing. Over the past year, he’d grown tall and strong, poised on the verge of manhood.
“Can I go outside now?” he asked.
“Don’t get dirty.” Greg and his father exchanged a glance.
“So when will I meet this ‘awesome’ Nina Romano?” asked Charles.
“She’ll be at the wedding and the reception.”
“Who?” asked Philip, looking remarkably like their father as he nudged his way in front of the mirror.
“Nina Romano, Greg’s business partner,” said Charles.
Philip leaned into the mirror to loop his bow tie. “Yeah, she’s coming. Greg’s crazy about her. He doesn’t think anybody knows, but we all do.”
Greg grabbed a fistful of Philip’s shirt and hauled him away from the mirror. “Mouth,” he said. “Don’t you have some fathering-of-the-bride to do?” He elbowed his way in front of his brother to work on his own tie.
“Olivia’s with her mother.” Philip put on a pained expression. He’d been divorced for nearly two decades, and his ex still managed to be difficult, a situation that came to a head when Philip learned Jenny was his biological daughter. Greg gave momentary thanks for Sophie, who wasn’t difficult at all. She was the same in divorce as she had been in marriage—absent most of the time.
Charles eyed him speculatively. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
Greg carefully looped the long end of the tie, his movements precise and practiced, which was odd, since he hadn’t worn a tux in ages. In fact, it was the same damn tux, altered over the years, he’d worn as best man at Philip’s wedding and then to his own. Both marriages had failed. Maybe this was a bad-luck tux. “Am I crazy, thinking I can do this, all over again?”
“Could be. But why would that stop you?”
“I don’t want to blow it this time, Dad.”
“Take your own advice. Give it your best effort and don’t try to predict the future.”
Walking around the camp, past playing fields, wilderness trails and bunkhouses, filled Greg with memories. In the ball court, Max and some other boys had already shed their jackets and were shooting hoops. Greg yelled at him not to mess up his wedding clothes, but then kept walking. He found his thoughts turning to Nina, but the guests hadn’t started to arrive yet. Maybe he should go find Sophie. This was, after all, the place where they’d married long ago. He felt curiously detached from the past, and he wondered if it was the same for Sophie. Since she’d come to Avalon for the wedding, he had spent minimal time with her. The wounds of their marriage had scarred over, though they still ached, and neither of them felt eager to test the strength of their healing. All things considered, he and Sophie were doing a passable job of being exes. Certainly they were better at that than they were at being married.
He thought about Max’s attitude, voiced earlier. Was that all the boy had seen? Greg hoped like hell Max would remember that there had been periods of happiness, even moments of joy. But gradually, the dynamic had shifted; there was no denying it. No one had wanted to see or speak of it. Ultimately, though, they all saw the shadow of change, sweeping over them like clouds across the sun. When the four of them were together, they hadn’t felt like a family, not in the end. The essential connection, tenuous at best, was gone. Sure, there was still love and caring—for the kids. Between Greg and Sophie, there existed a kind of benign respect.
She seemed different, though Greg couldn’t say why. She still possessed that formidable Nordic beauty, and when it came to her professional life, she exuded confidence. But when confronted with her kids, she seemed chastened. Maybe even humbled. Whether it was right or not, they had turned from Sophie. Their rejection had cut deep, exposing a hidden vulnerability that used to be cloaked by her steely reserve.
He hadn’t asked her how she was doing. Should he? The role of ex-husband didn’t come naturally to him. He knew how to be civil, though. If he could start with that, maybe he’d figure it out.
“Hey,” he said, stepping into the bunkhouse. Inside was an explosion of femininity—garment bags and trimming from bouquets, satin ribbon, spray bottles and jars of things designed to primp and tint and lacquer.
Sophie was by herself, in a sleeveless, light blue dress, ironing a matching jacket. She’d always been a master-ironer, able to smooth every surface of any garment, making it look brand-new again. She worked with efficient competence, down to the last detail.
Greg thought of Nina, who had probably never ironed a thing in her life and didn’t intend to.
He ran a finger around the inside of his collar, wondering what kind of etiquette governed this situation. Did he owe Sophie any sort of explanation? He stood and watched her, a stranger he knew with searing intimacy. She knew him the same way, and maybe she always had. He remembered the day he’d told her he was going to sell his firm, move from Manhattan to Avalon.
“Of course you are,” was all she’d said, yet in those four little words was a world of understanding. Now that he thought about it, Greg realized those were the words that had officially ended their marriage.
Sophie’s response in the wake of divorce had been different. Something in her compelled her to flee. To run away, fast and far, to hide in a crowd of strangers. Maybe she reinvented herself, showed them an entirely diff
erent side of her. He didn’t know. It wasn’t his business. Sophie had been running from trouble and hurt for as long as he’d known her. After their breakup in college, she had gone abroad to study in Japan, neither of them knowing when the decision was made that she was already pregnant with Daisy.
And so the pattern was set. When it came to her personal life, Sophie didn’t retreat from trouble; she fled.
“Did you need something, Greg?” she asked.
“I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
She glided the iron over the jacket. “Why on earth would you even ask?”
“Because I care. For the kids’ sake, I do care, Soph, and for the sake of who we used to be to each other. So…I’m sorry you’re not okay. Is there anything I can do?”
She smiled. “No, thank you. You’ve done enough.”
“Hey, Mom, Dad, can I talk to you?” Daisy took a tentative step into the room.
She looked so terribly young at the moment, with her hair in plastic curlers, like a kid playing dress-up. Except she wasn’t playing at anything. Everything was for real. For keeps. “Okay, um, maybe this’ll take a little more than a minute,” she added. “It’s probably not the best timing, but it’s not easy, finding the two of you together.”
He and Sophie hadn’t made it too easy. They’d become masters of avoiding each other.
Daisy looked from him to Sophie, then back at him. “First of all, I want to tell you both thank you. I haven’t actually said that until now—just, thank you. For everything you’ve given me all my life, and for being so great about the baby. Thank you. I couldn’t have asked for more.”
Greg glanced at Sophie. Daisy hadn’t spoken kindly to her mother in a long time. Sophie was blinking back tears, although she held her face perfectly impassive.
“Honey, you know we’d do anything for you,” he said.
She nodded. “I need to tell you something. Dad, I know you thought I’d stay here and work with you at the inn. But I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’ve decided to do something else.”
Greg felt a fistlike clenching of his gut. He literally had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from reacting.
Sophie said nothing.
“Did you know anything about this?” he demanded.
“Don’t you dare accuse me—”
“Stop it,” Daisy snapped. “Just for once, will the two of you please listen to me and not get in a fight?”
Greg clenched his jaw and fell silent, his eyes narrowed in suspicion at Sophie. He could feel her waiting to pounce on the opportunity Daisy was offering. Maybe Sophie saw a chance to finally get their daughter to move overseas with her.
No way, he thought. Over my dead body.
“I’m going to be moving out of the house,” Daisy said.
“Daisy, now is not the time—”
“I have to think about my own life. My future. I’m not sure what it is but I know what it’s not. It’s not here, at the inn. It’s the only future I’ve got, and I don’t want to spend it doing something because I think it’s expected of me, or because you or anyone else says it’s best.”
A hundred objections crowded up into Greg’s throat. He clenched his teeth to keep them in, but it was no use. “Your life is here,” he said.
“Maybe it is here,” Daisy said, “but then again, maybe it’s not. The point is, I need to figure it out on my own.”
Greg caught the scent of something burning. “Soph,” he said.
She snatched up the iron, revealing a brown triangular burned spot in the jacket she’d been working on. She held it up and shook her head. “Ruined,” she said. “And Daisy, you have a beautiful room and nursery at your father’s house. Are you saying you don’t want that anymore?”
“I’m saying I appreciate everything,” Daisy said hastily, placatingly. “But I don’t want a room. I want a life of my own. I’m not leaving tomorrow, but I am leaving. I’ll wait until after Christmas and the start of spring semester. I want to get a place of my own, a job to support myself. I want to go to school. I already sent in my application to the college at New Paltz.”
Greg couldn’t help himself. It was the kind of insane, idealistic plan he might have expected from the old Daisy. “I don’t get it. Christ, I bought the inn, thinking it would be a good, safe place for you to make a life.”
“Maybe you should have checked with me first, Dad,” she snapped at him.
“Maybe you should have checked with me before getting knocked up,” he snapped back. Oh, shit. Had he really said that? He caught the expression on his daughter’s face. Yes. He’d really said that. “Daze, I didn’t mean it.”
“I know. Dad, believe me, I know.” She made a face, as though she felt a twinge of pain, and pressed her hand to the small of her back.
“I’m just completely surprised by this. Honey, do you know how hard that’s going to be?”
“A lot of things are hard. Golf. Climbing Mount Everest. Giving birth. That doesn’t stop people from doing them.”
Greg glared at Sophie. “Say something, will you?”
She lifted her chin defensively. “She’s a grown woman. I’m not going to tell her what to do.”
“Mom’s right,” Daisy said, intervening before things escalated between them. “I just need to be on my own,” she concluded.
“That’s insane,” Greg said. “You need to be with your family. You’ve got a baby to support.”
“Two words, Dad,” Daisy reminded him. “Trust fund. Grandpa Bellamy set them up for each of his grandchildren.”
Right, thought Greg. He crushed his teeth together to keep from mouthing off again. He couldn’t help it, though. “You’re too young. I’m not letting you do this.”
“Dad, just listen to me. This is my life. My decision. Nina said—”
“Nina?” asked Sophie. “What’s she got to do with you finding your life?”
Greg felt sucker punched. This was not the first time he’d heard those words. Daisy had been talking to Nina. She’d told him this. She’d known it was going to happen. How had she known? “Nina told you to go off half-cocked like that?”
“I made the decision myself. And it’s not half-cocked. It’s what I want. I know it’s safe to stay here with you, and for a long time, I tried to make myself believe that was the best plan. Then I realized the only reason I was staying was that I thought I needed to be here for you and Max. But I need to go, Dad. For me.” She went and hugged Sophie and then Greg. “Anyway, that’s what I wanted to tell you. Just so you’ll know. I’ll see you after the ceremony, okay?”
Once she’d left, Greg turned to Sophie. She put up a hand to hold him silent. “Before you say anything, I want you to know, I had nothing to do with that, nothing whatsoever.”
“I know,” he said, beginning to do a slow burn when he thought of Nina.
Sophie raised her eyebrows. “You mean everything’s not my fault?”
“Soph.”
“Then we’re making progress. And maybe nothing will come of this,” she added. “We shouldn’t worry about anything until there’s something to worry about.”
There was something to worry about, all right. Their daughter had always been this way, keeping everything in and not making her move until she knew what move to make. Daisy never would have brought the subject up if she hadn’t been a hundred percent serious.
Twenty-Six
As they drove along the lakeshore road on the way to the wedding, Nina tried to hide her nervousness. Twice, she caught herself reaching up to twist a lock of hair.
Sonnet, who’d always had a kind of radar for her mother’s moods, shot her a glance from the driver’s seat. “Relax, Mom. I didn’t forget how to drive while I was in Belgium.”
Nina was relieved Sonnet had mistaken the source of her nervousness. “I realize that, but you get rusty. Out of practice. That’s why I wanted you to drive. To get back in the game. Everything gets better with practice.”
“Dad l
et me drive a mobylette around the base,” Sonnet said. “It’s kind of like a moped but with a tiny engine, so you can’t go very fast.”
Nina’s blood chilled. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“Didn’t want to worry you.”
“You shouldn’t do that,” she said. “You shouldn’t keep things from me to spare me the worry.”
“Mom. You do it to me, all the time. You always have.”
And just like that, Nina realized Sonnet understood her in ways she’d never imagined. No one loved her the way Sonnet did.
“So what was it like, really, being part of a two-parent family?” she asked.
“It was all right. Interesting.”
“In what way?”
“I never saw a marriage up close before. Never quite clued in on the way it worked.”
“What did you think?”
“Dad and Angela…they’re good together. Not perfect, but they take care of each other.”
Nina was moved by Sonnet’s wistful tone. “That’s what I want for you one day.” She wanted her daughter to learn how people loved each other and, yes, how they hurt each other. She wanted Sonnet to figure out how to survive all of it and still be able to hold hands with the same guy after fifty years.
The turnoff to Camp Kioga was marked by a cluster of pearl-white helium balloons. “It’s what I want for you, too, Mom.”
Nina felt a surge of emotion. This thing with Greg was turning her into a leaky faucet. She looked out the window to cover her reaction. As the deep, shadowy forest flickered past, she took a deep breath, blinked fast and tried to regain her equilibrium.
“Mom?” Sonnet prodded.
“That’s sweet of you,” Nina said.
They arrived a bit early for the wedding. Camp Kioga was beautifully festooned for the occasion and the parking lot was full. People had waited a long time for Olivia and Connor to get married, and a good many guests were expected. Nina scanned the area for Greg, but didn’t see him. She hadn’t slept well last night as she tied herself in knots, wondering what she would say to him. He seemed convinced that they were falling in love, making the declaration as easily as if he were giving a weather report. She wasn’t so certain, yet she knew she was consumed by her unadmitted obsession with him. All right, she admitted it to herself. She was obsessed with the man. She’d never experienced anything like…whatever it was she was having with him. It had exploded into far more than a one-night stand. They’d been together every chance they got. So was it a fling? No, not a fling. A fling was lighthearted, fun and frothy. And finite. She couldn’t quite convince herself that the thing with Greg was a fling.