Table for Seven: A Novel

by Whitney Gaskell

  The Leland these people had known was both different and yet the same as the Leland the dinner party club had grown so fond of, Audrey mused. The people from his previous life had known Leland when he was a man of consequence—a judge, a husband, a father. But the things they said about him—how funny he was, how thoughtful, the interest he’d taken in their lives—were exactly like the retired Leland that the Table for Seven Club had known.

  Sitting in the church pew, Audrey checked her program and had a jolt of surprise. Coop was scheduled to speak. She hadn’t thought Coop was particularly close to Leland. All of the other speakers—Leland’s two sons, his old law partners, his former clerks—had known Leland for years. As far as she knew, Coop had met Leland at the same time she did, back at the first meeting of the Table for Seven Club, less than a year ago. Audrey craned her neck around and scanned the congregation, looking for Coop’s sun-bleached head. She saw him standing near the back—every seat in the church was filled—and her heart gave a little skip. Audrey had thought she had grown immune to Coop and any attraction he held for her.

  Apparently, she was wrong.

  The law clerk finished speaking, and everyone clapped politely. Coop strode to the front of the church, and took the clerk’s place at the lectern.

  “Hi, there,” Coop said, leaning in close to the microphone. “I’m Preston Cooper. I didn’t know Leland as long as many of you did, but in the time I did know him, Leland impressed me as the rarest of men, in that he was someone who actually understood other men.”

  There was a titter of laughter across the congregation. Audrey watched Coop intently, her hands fisted so tightly, her nails left marks on the skin of her palms.

  “I don’t mean that in a Tim Allen, Home Improvement sort of way,” Coop said. “Where the men grunt like apes and wait around to be civilized by the womenfolk. What I mean is that Leland had a habit of assessing a situation and the people involved, and delivering a piece of advice that was so on point, I wondered at times if he was some sort of a psychic.”

  There was another spattering of laughter. Apparently, the Table for Seven Club members were not the first people in Leland’s life to take note of his intuitiveness.

  “Just before he passed away—the very night, in fact—Leland gave me some advice.” Coop paused, and looked directly in Audrey’s direction. She felt her face flush, and shrank back in the pew, certain that everyone was staring at her. “And like everything that Leland said, I realized, upon reflection, that he was right. Very right. And I was so very wrong.” A heavy man in the front of the church guffawed loudly, which caused another ripple of tittering. Coop smiled wryly. “I see I wasn’t the first person to benefit from Leland’s keen insight. But that’s a good thing. I can’t think of a better legacy than to have people grouped around your coffin, remembering you for the positive influence you had in their lives.

  “So, Leland, know this: You left us all too soon. Nearly everyone sitting here benefited from your wise advice. And it is to our great detriment that we will have to go without it from now on.” Coop paused and smiled sadly. “We’ll miss you.”

  Coop replaced the microphone to its holder on the lectern while applause rang out. Audrey sat still as could be, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

  THE REMAINING MEMBERS OF the Table for Seven Dinner Party Club gathered at Audrey’s house the night of the funeral for a special meeting in Leland’s honor.

  Audrey had offered to cook, but everyone wanted to contribute, so in the end, they decided to put together a potluck buffet, which they christened Bacon-alia. Fran and Will brought dates stuffed with blue cheese and wrapped in bacon and chocolate bars studded with bacon that Will had found at Whole Foods. Jaime made pâté de campagne, a country pâté seasoned with brandy, which had, she explained, been cooked in a layer of bacon, removed prior to serving. Audrey set out an onion, cheese, and bacon tart and a platter of grilled asparagus sprinkled with goat cheese and bacon. Coop brought a blue cheese and bacon dip.

  Once they had filled their plates and sat at the table—a seventh place had been set in Leland’s honor—they raised their glasses to the empty chair and said, “To Leland.”

  “I just wish we had thought to do this for him when he was here to enjoy it,” Fran said sadly, looking at her plate. “An entire meal of bacon. He would have been thrilled.”

  Jaime patted her arm. “I think wherever Leland is, he would definitely approve,” she said.

  “Leland’s sons look just like him,” Mark said.

  “Really? Weren’t they both over six feet tall? And Leland was so short. I wonder how tall his wife was,” Jaime said.

  “No, I know what Mark means,” Audrey said. “They both had his eyes. And the younger one—” she paused, trying to remember his name.

  “Peter,” Coop said.

  “Right, thank you,” Audrey said. She glanced at Coop, then looked quickly away. “He had Leland’s nose and ears.”

  “His ears? Really?” Will said.

  Audrey nodded. “Exactly the same.”

  “I didn’t notice,” Will said.

  “What do you think Leland meant when he said his wife never forgave him?” Jaime asked.

  “Let’s not talk about that,” Fran said sharply.

  “Why not?” Jaime asked. “I think Leland wanted to talk about it that night.”

  “He wasn’t in his right mind,” Fran said.

  “What are you all talking about?” Audrey asked. It was the first time she had directly addressed Fran since their fight.

  Fran seemed so surprised by Audrey speaking to her that she answered, despite her unwillingness to discuss the subject. “Just before Leland died, he was talking about a woman who used to make him carrot cake,” she said.

  “He said her name was Margaret,” Jaime said.

  “And from the way he was talking about her, it was pretty clear that they’d had an affair,” Fran said reluctantly.

  “Really?” Audrey said. She leaned back in her chair. “Wow. I always got the impression that Leland adored his wife.”

  “He did adore her,” Fran insisted. “I don’t think we should remember him for a mistake that he obviously regretted.”

  “And he was talking about his wife at the end,” Jaime said. “He said that he wished she’d forgiven him. I think she was really the one who was on his mind at the end, not the cake woman.”

  The group fell silent, remembering how awful that night had been. One moment Leland had been there, and the next he was gone.

  Audrey shivered. “I feel terrible that I wasn’t there,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

  “There was nothing you could have done,” Will said gently. “Coop and Fran gave him CPR, and then the EMTs came and used the paddles on him.”

  “You gave him CPR?” Audrey asked, looking at Coop.

  “Coop was great,” Fran said. “The rest of us were shell-shocked when Leland collapsed, but Coop just jumped right in and started trying to revive him.”

  A shadow crossed Coop’s face. “Obviously, I didn’t do enough.”

  “That’s not true. You did everything you possibly could have,” Jaime protested.

  “Is that why Leland’s sons asked you to speak at the funeral?” Mark asked.

  Coop nodded. “I told them it wasn’t necessary, that I didn’t do anything heroic, but they insisted.”

  “No, I like that you spoke. It’s good that his friends and family knew he was loved and appreciated during his retirement years,” Fran said.

  “And seriously, Coop. Leland was an old man. It was just his time,” Will said.

  Coop shrugged away these soothing words and stared down at his plate. He hadn’t eaten much.

  He’s taking this so hard, Audrey thought. Her hand lifted—why, she wasn’t sure, maybe to reach out to him across the table, to touch Coop’s hand—but she stopped herself, and folded her hands in her lap.

  “I like what you said at the funeral,” she
said instead.

  Coop looked at her, his eyes meeting hers for the first time that day.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  Audrey felt a sudden urge to get away for a moment.

  “I’ll go get another bottle of wine,” she said, standing. “We seem to be low on both red and white.”

  “I’ll help you,” Fran said.

  Audrey was about to protest, but then shrugged and said, “Okay, sure.”

  Fran followed Audrey back to the kitchen. Audrey pulled a bottle of Chardonnay out of the refrigerator and set it on the counter, next to several bottles of red. She tucked her hair behind her ears, and set about opening the bottles with a corkscrew.

  Fran watched her silently for a moment. Then, finally, she said, “I’m not sure why you’re so angry with me.”

  “I love Will. I love the two of you together.”

  Fran nodded. “I know. And I understand that the end of a marriage affects people outside of the marriage. But it really hurts me that you haven’t even tried to understand my point of view.”

  “I think I’ve always seen you and Will as perfect for each other. And if the two of you can’t make it …” Audrey shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do tend to idealize marriage. I’m sorry I was hard on you.”

  “Thank you for saying that,” Fran said. “I did sort of drop a bombshell on you.”

  “Yeah, it was a bit of a shock. But, to be honest, I think I was angry because you seemed almost happy about it,” Audrey said.

  “I don’t know if happy is the right word. It’s going to be hard, I know that. But things haven’t been great in my marriage for a long time now. I know everyone thinks Will is the greatest guy in the world—and in some ways he is—but he’s not the most attentive husband. And that’s hard. I want to be with someone who adores me. I think I deserve that,” Fran said.

  “Will adores you,” Audrey protested.

  Fran shook her head. “I know he loves me. And I love him. But we’re not lovers anymore, and we haven’t been for a long time.”

  Audrey hesitated. She didn’t want to get into another fight with Fran, not now that they were just making up. But she also didn’t think she’d be a very good friend if she didn’t at least try to talk Fran out of what was a huge mistake.

  “Do you think maybe you have an unrealistic picture? In any relationship, the passion eventually fades. Hopefully it never fully goes away, but those shivery, exciting feelings you have when you first fall in love never last,” Audrey said.

  Fran shrugged, turning away, and Audrey knew that this was not a point she was willing to concede.

  “Just think about it, okay?” Audrey said.

  Fran nodded. “Okay.”

  “What happens now? Do you have a plan?”

  “We’re going to stay together in the house until after Christmas. But that’s about as far as we’ve gotten. I’ve tried to talk to Will about the details, but, well …” Fran ran a hand over her face and closed her eyes briefly. “I’m having a hard time getting him to discuss it.”

  “I’m sure he’s devastated,” Audrey said.

  “I don’t know why he would be,” Fran said.

  Audrey frowned. “Maybe because his world is falling apart? His marriage, his family? Of course that would upset him.”

  “The only thing Will cares about is sitting out in the garage, working on those damn robots,” Fran said with heat. She shook her head. “Sorry. Ignore me. I’m still in the bitter phase. Hopefully it will pass soon. Anyway, let’s talk about something else. How’s it going with you and Kenny?”

  “It’s not. I ended it,” Audrey said.

  “I’m not surprised. I didn’t get the feeling there were a lot of fireworks between you,” Fran said.

  Suddenly, Audrey’s eyes filled with tears. She set down the bottle of wine she’d picked up and pinched the top of her nose, trying to stop them from flowing.

  “Oh, my God, are you okay?” Fran said, stepping closer and putting a hand on Audrey’s arm. “I had no idea that things were so serious between you and Kenny! Were you in love with him?”

  “Of course not,” Audrey said. The tears started streaming down her face, and her chest heaved with sobs.

  “I’m confused,” Fran said, shaking her head. “Why are you so upset?”

  “I don’t know. This keeps happening.” Audrey lifted both hands, fingers splayed, and gestured to her tear-slicked face. “Ever since Leland died, I keep bursting into tears for no reason.”

  “That’s understandable,” Fran said. “You were fond of Leland. But you know he had a long, full life, right?”

  “That’s just it. I don’t think I am crying for Leland. I mean, I’m sad that he died, of course, and I’ll certainly miss him. But for some reason, I keep thinking of Ryan.”

  “Oh,” Fran said and fell silent for a moment, as she considered this. “Do you think that your feelings of grief over Leland’s death are somehow dredging up similar feelings for Ryan?”

  “No, I don’t think that’s it. I mean, it wouldn’t make sense, would it? Leland was a nice man who I was fond of. But Ryan was my husband. It’s not the same at all,” Audrey said. She picked up a paper towel and dabbed at her eyes. “Good thing I put on waterproof mascara.”

  “Then, what do you think is going on?”

  “I think … well, I think part of it is that I’m sad Ryan didn’t get to have the sort of life Leland had. I kept thinking that at the funeral today, about how everyone there seemed to want to celebrate Leland. At Ryan’s funeral, everyone was in shock. All anyone could say was what a waste it was,” Audrey said. She stopped and swallowed back another sob, which she could feel pressing upward in her chest. “And it was such a waste. Ryan was this smart, handsome, funny man. He had it all, and he just threw it all away.” She looked at Fran. “He’d been drinking that night.”

  Fran nodded. “I thought he probably had been.”

  “Yeah, well this was Ryan.” Audrey gave a humorless laugh. “The odds were always pretty good that he was drinking. And you know what? The worst part about it is that he didn’t just throw away his life. He threw away our life together. The children we never had. The holidays, and the memories, and the family vacations. He just crumpled it up and tossed it away.”

  “Do you think his accident was …,” Fran began, but then stopped.

  “Do I think it was suicide?” Audrey asked. Fran nodded. “No. But he was basically playing Russian roulette. He drank and drove all the time. It didn’t matter how many times I asked him not to, or how many business cards of taxicab companies I stuffed into his wallet. And I can’t tell you how many nights I went out, driving around, trying to find which bar he was at, so I could take him home.”

  “You did?” Fran asked, looking surprised.

  Audrey nodded. “I’ve never told you that before?” She shrugged, and shook her head, then dabbed at the tears that had started flowing again. “He was always drunk and I was always covering for him. Not exactly the stuff that healthy marriages are made of.”

  Fran wrapped her arms around her friend.

  “At least I think we know why you can’t stop weeping,” Fran said.

  “Why? Because I’m just now realizing how stupid I’ve been? I was stupid to stay in my marriage while Ryan was alive and stupid to pretend to myself and everyone else that we were happy together,” Audrey said bitterly, turning away and folding her arms.

  “No,” Fran said gently. “That’s not it. I think you’re sad because you’re just now grieving the real Ryan. Your real marriage.”

  Audrey was silent for a few minutes. Her sobs had quieted, and the tears had slowed. “Maybe you’re right,” Audrey said.

  “It’s bound to happen once in a while,” Fran said.

  Audrey smiled weakly. “How awful do I look?”

  “You look perfectly fine. Just a little teary. But no one will notice. Or if they do, they’ll think it’s because of Leland’s funeral. It has been a s
ad day, after all,” Fran said.

  “I suppose we should go back in. They’ll be out of wine by now, and wondering what’s taking us so long,” Audrey said.

  Fran threw her arm around Audrey’s shoulders and squeezed her.

  “You’re going to be fine, you know,” Fran said.

  “Despite all evidence to the contrary?” Audrey asked, with an ironic laugh.

  A FEW NIGHTS AFTER Leland’s funeral, Fran drew in a deep breath and knocked on the front door of Coop’s condo. She could hear Bear’s nails scrabbling over the tile inside, and a moment later, the door swung open.

  “Hey, Franny,” Coop said. “What are you doing here?”

  He was wearing a gray T-shirt and well-worn khaki shorts. Coop hadn’t shaved that morning, and now, at seven o’clock at night, his chin was thick with blond stubble. Fran, already nervous, felt her heart give a few extra leaps.

  “Hi,” Fran said. “Can I come in?”

  Coop looked puzzled, but he held the door open and said, “Of course. I was just getting a beer. Do you want one? Wait, you don’t like beer.”

  Fran smiled, pleased that he remembered this about her. “No, I’m not a beer girl.”

  “Let me see what else I have.” Coop led her to the tiny galley kitchen and rummaged around in the cupboard. “I have a nice bottle of Cabernet. And I think I have some Grey Goose in the freezer.”

  “A glass of wine would be great,” Fran said, petting Bear’s head. He sat on her feet and panted happily.

  She wouldn’t have minded vodka, glugged straight from the bottle. However, this was not the time to lose her head.

  Coop poured a glass of wine and handed it to Fran.

  “Cheers,” she said and clinked her glass against his beer bottle.

  “Let’s go outside,” Coop said, leading her back to the patio.

  Fran followed him, Bear at her heels. They sat down at the round table, in comfortable mesh-backed chairs. In the distance, the ocean roared softly, rumbling as the tide rushed in. The scents of the beach—salt water and something slightly fishy—filled Fran’s nostrils. She imagined living in an apartment by the sea. So different from a suburban household. And so much more freeing. Fran breathed in deeply and sipped her wine. It was, of course, delicious. Coop had always had fabulous taste in wine.