I blink. Is he kidding? This is too ridiculous even to be funny. “Asher is gay,” I say in a flat voice. “I’m really not his type.” But I’m wondering if this is a smoke screen, although Phil appears to be relieved.
“Oh.” He twists his mouth to one side, the way he does when thinking hard about something. “Then what is it?”
“What do you think it is?” I say again.
He scratches his head now. “Well, I’m still trying to sort out what that crazy woman said to me earlier. It was like she was making some kind of accusation, but she never actually came out and said what …” He pauses as the waiter sets two cups of coffee in front of us. I can tell by the way he plunks them down that he’s disappointed we aren’t indulging in something more expensive.
I give him a little shrug, then take a sip of the strong, acidic coffee. I suspect it’s been sitting on the burner all day. “What did it sound like she was saying?”
“Like I’d done something to hurt you. But she was so wacky about it that it didn’t make any sense.”
Finally I’m tired of the game playing. I’m tired of pretending nothing’s wrong. And I’m tired of postponing the inevitable. I set down my cup and look directly at Phil. Then, taking a deep breath, I begin. “Look, Phil, I know how you’ve gotten into this fitness thing these past several months. And I know how Delia is into it too. I’ve seen you guys jogging together, laughing and smiling and having a good time. And I’ve seen you stop to rest or stretch or whatever it is you do, and the two of you talk and talk like there’s no one on earth as interesting as each other. And Delia’s said a few things to me, you know, about what a great guy you are, and you’ve said as much to me about her, and … Well, I’m not stupid, Phil. I can see the writing on the wall.”
I start talking fast now, barely pausing to catch my breath, trying to get it all out before he has a chance to say anything. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Neighbors have mentioned things too. And there’s the way Delia calls you whenever she needs help with anything—the furnace stops in the middle of the night, her cat’s stuck in a tree, her sink’s stopped up. It doesn’t take a genius to figure these things out. And—”
“Stop!” he says, holding up his hands, and I wonder if he’s ready to surrender, to admit his guilt and just get it over with.
“Fine,” I tell him. “But you asked.”
He shakes his head now. “You’ve got it all wrong, Elizabeth.”
I feel my brows rising, my classic skeptical expression. “Really?” I say in a dry tone. “How is it then?”
“Okay, maybe you have it right about Delia. I mean, nothing’s happened—but I’ve gotten a feeling that she may think there’s more to our relationship than just jogging buddies.”
I nod. “Yes?”
“But that’s where it stops, Elizabeth. I have to admit that I’m flattered by her attention. I don’t deny she’s an attractive young woman—not as attractive as you, of course.”
“Of course.” My sarcasm is obvious.
“She’s not!” Now he reaches across the table and takes both my hands. “You are the most beautiful woman I know, Elizabeth. And you’re the only one I love, the only one I want to be with—now and forever. Can’t you believe me?”
I feel myself softening. He does seem sincere, but I’m not totally sure about this whole Delia thing. “I would love to believe you,” I admit.
“Then why don’t you? What have I ever done to make you so suspicious?”
I consider this. “Well, you said yourself that you were getting suspicious of poor Asher. What if I started doing something with him every day—like tennis? Asher’s really into tennis. What if I started playing tennis with him on a daily basis, and he started calling me for help on his window coverings late at night? What if the neighbors were talking about us? How would you feel?”
“Well, knowing he’s gay now, I guess I wouldn’t—”
“Phil,” I say in a stern voice, “you know what I mean.”
“Sorry.” He nods solemnly. “I’d be jealous. I’d think you were flirting with an affair.”
“Flirting?” I repeat. “Is that what you’ve been doing?”
“No, of course not. Like I said, I admit to being flattered. I may be middle-aged, but I’m not dead. I still like to be admired.” He smiles. “I like it best when I’m admired by you.”
Now I feel a bit guilty. When was the last time I paid my husband a compliment? Probably not since Delia came into the picture. But still …
“The reason I took up jogging was to get into better shape.” He reaches down to pat his midsection. “I’m sure you noticed that I’d gotten a little paunchy.”
“Oh, I don’t know.
“And you manage to stay in such good shape—”
“I’m not in good shape.”
“Your shape looks good to me. Anyway, I wanted to get into shape so you’d think I still had it when I took you on our—” He stops himself.
“On our what?”
“It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“What?”
“I booked us a trip to Maui.”
“Maui?” I’m starting to feel pretty sheepish now, like maybe I have made a mountain out of a molehill.
He nods. “For our twenty-fifth anniversary. I wasn’t going to tell you. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Now I feel stupid. But even so, I’m not completely convinced there’s not something—or the possibility of something—between Phil and Delia. “That’s nice,” I tell him in a slightly unenthused tone.
“Nice?” He looks hurt. “I thought it was more than nice, Elizabeth.”
“Okay, it’s really nice. But I’m still concerned.”
“Concerned?”
“For us.” I look directly into his eyes now “And about your relationship with Delia. It makes me uncomfortable.”
“She’s just a jogging partner.”
“Maybe,” I tell him. “But I still don’t like it.”
“Oh.” Then he glances at his watch. “We should go.”
“Why?” I demand, worried that he wants to end this conversation now that I’ve told him I don’t want him seeing Delia anymore.
“I promised to help Eric with something.”
“What?” Now I’m getting suspicious all over again. Why is he being so mysterious, and why is he so eager to end this conversation now that we’ve gotten this far?
He drops some money on the table. “I’ve got to go,” he insists. “You can stay here or come with me, but I have to get moving now.”
“I’m coming with you,” I say as I get up and follow him out. You’re not getting away this easily Phillip Anderson!
Chapter 50
INGRID
Unbelievable!” says Patrick, watching as Suzette Burke storms away, tripping over something invisible as she goes, but somehow staying on her feet.
I do feel sorry for her, but I can’t control myself. Poor Suzette is barely out of earshot before I’m practically splitting my sides, not to mention the seams of this dress, laughing hysterically. Then Patrick is laughing with me, totally cracking up, as he replays how he sneaked up from behind and jumped her.
“I felt terrible when I realized I’d tackled a woman,” he confesses as we both lean against the getaway car, trying to recover from our hysterics. “I honestly thought it was one of the guys.”
“Well, she looked like a thug, prowling around with that knife in her hand,” I tell him. “I was certain she was going to slit Alex’s tires. But who would’ve guessed it was Suzette Burke?” I start laughing again. “She’s Michael’s boss’s wife!”
“No kidding?” he says. “I wonder if Michael will be in trouble for this.”
“I think she should be in trouble for this. What on earth do you think she was doing?”
“Whatever she was doing, it didn’t look good.” He holds up the pocketknife now. “And this might n
ot be very big, but the blade’s plenty sharp. If nothing else, she could’ve been going after someone’s tires. But why?”
“She’s been acting pretty strange all day. I honestly think there’s something wrong with her mind. I mean, she looks so together on the outside, and her clothes have to cost a fortune, but underneath all that glitz and glamour is one whacked-out woman.” I notice it’s getting pretty chilly out here and use my hands to rub some warmth into my bare arms.
“Pretty sad,” he says, then removes his jacket and slips it over my shoulders.
“Thanks.”
Then he turns and smiles at me. “That’s why I go for the sensible girls.”
“Sensible girls?” I repeat. “What does that mean? Like sensible shoes? Something durable and comfortable, but not too spendy?”
He chuckles. “Okay, not exactly like that, but sort of. I guess I like girls who don’t expect to be treated like princesses. Not that I wouldn’t treat the right girl like a queen. I just don’t want her to demand that kind of treatment from me. Do you know what I mean?”
I nod. “Yeah, I get you.” I feel bad for putting him on the spot like that, but the problem is, I really do get him. But I don’t want to come across as too eager or available or desperate—because I’m not. And I certainly don’t want him to think I’m falling for him because of what happened with Jason today. There is no way I want him to consider himself a rebound romance. I know for a fact that he could be way more than that. I’m just not sure I want him to know that. Not yet.
“Here they come,” I say quietly as I spy a group of guys, some in tuxes, coming our way.
“Just be cool,” says Patrick. “Act like we’re here to decorate the car too. But we’ll make sure things don’t get carried away.”
I pull out my can of whipped cream and start writing “Just Married” on the windshield.
“Hey, you guys beat us to it,” calls Rod.
Soon we are all decorating the car, and to my relief no one is getting out of control. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a long string of cans tied to a bumper before, and I worry that it might bounce up and put a ding on Michael’s beautiful car, which actually belongs to his dad.
“How can you be sure this is the right getaway car?” I ask Michael’s best friend.
“Because Michael’s Range Rover has been hidden someplace, and no one seems to know where, but we do know they’re using this car to start with.” He puts a last strip of toilet paper over the hood. “The plan is to stick with them until they get to the other car, and then we might actually have a few seconds to do a little more decorating.”
“Oh.” I try not to imagine Michael and Jenny escaping from this car and into another. I hope they know what they’re doing. These guys seem pretty relentless to me, and I’d feel bad for Jenny if things got out of hand.
“Are you going to be part of the getaway chase?” I ask Patrick.
“I guess I could. Do you want to come with me?”
“Do you mind?”
He laughs. “Not at all. But I guess you haven’t heard about my driving.”
“That’s right,” says Conner, coming up from behind. “Patrick thinks he’s Michael Andretti. You might want to reconsider riding with him.”
“That’s okay,” I assure him. “I like a little excitement.” Then I remember our earlier excitement with that Suzette woman, and I start to laugh.
“What is it?” asks Conner.
“Just remembering something,” I say, suppressing my giggles.
Then Patrick starts laughing too.
“What is it?” demands Conner.
“Private joke,” says Patrick as he pats his brother on the back.
“You two are sure getting cozy,” observes Conner.
Then Patrick puts his arm around my shoulders. I can’t tell if it’s a brotherly gesture or what, but I have to admit it feels pretty good. “Ingrid and I go way back, you know.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve known her as long as you have.”
“Maybe so, little brother, but you’ve already got yourself a girl, remember?”
Now Conner’s brows go up, as if he’s putting two and two together; then he slowly nods, as if he approves.
“We better get back in there,” I say. “I can see people gathering outside the tent. I think Jenny and Michael are making their big exit.”
“Yeah, and someone might want to catch that bouquet,” teases Conner.
Then Patrick grabs my hand, and we all race back to the tent just as Jenny and Michael emerge. I get there in time to join the other bridesmaids before Jenny turns her back to us and tosses the bouquet over her shoulder. But it’s Lana who catches it. Never mind that she nearly knocks three of us over as she lunges. But I don’t care. I’m just as happy knowing I’m not getting married, at least not anytime soon.
Then everyone is throwing birdseed (since rice is discouraged up here), and we’re all chasing after Michael and Jenny as they race across the grounds.
“Hold on tight,” says Patrick as everyone jumps into cars and he revs his engine and takes off after the newlyweds. Conner has opted to ride with someone else, and I don’t know whether to be relieved or worried, but I can tell that even though Patrick is driving fast, he’s being careful. And I’m glad we’re the car directly behind Michael and Jenny. That might buy them a bit of time to make the switch to his Range Rover.
It’s a good thing there aren’t houses up here, because everyone is blasting their horns and yelling out the windows. It’s a circus!
Finally, we watch Michael and Jenny’s taillights pull off to the side of the road. Then they jump out of the car and run down a slight incline and head straight for what looks like a small stream. Jenny has changed her clothes, but she still has on a very nice pale pink and white outfit, which isn’t exactly splashing-through-the-stream material. But no need to worry. Michael swoops her up and carries her straight across the water and up to where we see his Range Rover parked on a road.
Everyone else is here now, yelling and honking their horns to announce their arrival. We point out the runaway newlyweds to the others.
“There they go!” I yell. “Have fun, you guys! Don’t forget to write!” Yeah, sure.
Then we hear a couple of happy beeps from the Range Rover, and they’re off. I finally feel my job as maid of honor is done, and I let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Glad that’s over with?” says Patrick as he comes around to open the door for me.
“That’s for sure!” Then I notice the wildly decorated car still sitting on the side of the road. “What about the car?” I ask, and everyone just looks around like no one’s sure what to do. “We can’t leave it here all night.”
Just then we see another set of headlights come on. It turns out to be Jenny’s dad, and it seems his car has been parked on the other side of the road this whole time! He pulls across the road and lets out Elizabeth and her husband, then waves at us. “Did the kids get across the stream okay?” he yells out his open window.
“No problem,” I tell him. “The lovebirds are safely on their way.”
“Phil and Elizabeth will bring Alex’s car back,” he informs us.
So I guess that settles it. My job tonight is really done. I lean back into the seat of Patrick’s car and finally relax. And he drives much more slowly back to the lodge.
“I’ll bet you’re exhausted,” he says as he slots his car back in the parking lot.
“Pretty much.” I instantly regret my words. What if he was going to ask me to get a cup of coffee or something? Although I suspect the coffee shop in the lodge is closed by now. But a walk perhaps.
“Yeah, me too,” he says as he turns off the ignition.
“Thanks for the ride,” I tell him. “And for everything tonight.”
“No problem.”
As we walk back toward the lodge, I remember that Patrick’s mom said he’s a little on the shy side, and I wonder if I should say something. But what?
&n
bsp; Back in the lodge, I hand him his jacket, and I know it’s time to say good night. But even though I’m totally beat, I really don’t want this night to be over.
“Hey, Ingrid,” he says as we pause at the foot of the stairs. “Mind if I call you sometime? I mean, after we get back home.”
“Sure,” I tell him. “I’d love it.”
He smiles, and it’s one of the best smiles I’ve ever seen. “Cool.”
“Yeah, cool,” I say. “See ya around!”
Chapter 51
ELIZABETH
Okay, as it turns out, Phil really does have someplace to go. First we go down to the tent, where the festivities are beginning to fizzle out. The crowd has thinned a bit, some still dancing and some sitting back at the tables. Jenny and Jeannette are getting ready to go up to the lodge so Jenny can change into her going-away outfit.
“Want to join us, Aunt Elizabeth?” offers Jenny as Phil and Eric confer about something that seems quite important and confidential.
I glance over at Phil, still engrossed in conversation with his brother-in-law, and decide why not? Then, with two older women flanking her, our lovely bride links arms with us, and we parade back into the lodge.
“This has been the best day of my life,” Jenny proclaims as we go inside. “But I’m glad it’s almost over.”
“Even the best days have to come to an end,” says Jeannette, but I hear the tiredness in her voice. I know she’s hugely relieved to have this over with. The poor woman will probably need a week or two to recover!
Anyway, we help Jenny out of her pretty wedding things, then carefully pack them all away as she changes into an ivory pantsuit with a pale pink blouse.
“You’re still just as pretty as a picture,” I tell her.
“That reminds me,” says Jeannette, digging through a bag. “Let’s get some photos of this.”
So Jeannette and I take turns getting shots with Jenny before she insists on taking one of the two of us.
On This Day Page 23