“Please, Lana,” Weslee pleaded. “Just tell me. I need to know so I can just forget it ever happened.”
Lana reluctantly answered Weslee’s questions. Duncan’s fiancée, Susan Jarrett, had moved back to the United States from London recently but was living in New York. She had dated Duncan through college off and on. Both of their families were close enough that everyone expected them to get married. But the relationship had been rocky. Susan, however, had never given up on Duncan, and this time it appeared that they would finally tie the knot. Yes, they had a date, Lana told her. Labor Day weekend.
Weslee’s rationale for wanting to know was what people said when they couldn’t admit to themselves that they were clinging to shreds of hope: closure. Yes, knowing that Duncan would be married to Susan Jarrett in a month would finally mean it was over between them.
But closure wasn’t what she felt once she hung up with Lana. Her mind kept thrusting forward the picture of Susan and Duncan so together, so enaged, in Neiman’s, the perfect couple. Lana had pretty much confirmed it for Weslee—Duncan had gotten himself quite a catch. Susan had grown up in Manhattan, in a world of exclusive schools and debutante balls, and was now an investment banker for the world’s biggest investment bank. Susan had it all, including Duncan.
Shame and hurt made her close her eyes, her face down in the wet pillow. He had told her he loved her, and she actually thought he had meant it. What in the world could she have been thinking?
“Weslee, are you OK?” Sherry shook Weslee’s shoulders, jolting her from her sleep.
“Huh?” Weslee opened her eyes slowly.
“You’ve been in there since last night, and you weren’t answering, so I got worried.” Sherry was holding a handful of keys in her hand.
“What time is it?” Weslee rubbed her eyes.
“It’s almost nine A.M.”
“Saturday?”
“Yes, Saturday.”
Weslee got up slowly, the events of the previous day starting to re-register.
“Are you OK?” Sherry asked again, this time looking genuinely concerned.
“I’m fine. It’s just a headache.”
“I didn’t know you—”
Weslee raised a hand and nodded her head and grimaced, hoping Sherry would leave her alone. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Weslee nodded and headed for the bathroom.
“Hey, let’s do something. Something fun.” Sherry stood outside the bathroom door.
“Actually, Sherry, I’m not really in the mood.”
“Come on. It’s Saturday. Let’s get out of town. Hey, let’s go up to Maine. I’ll drive.”
Weslee walked out of the bathroom. “I can’t, Sherry,” she sighed. “I saw Duncan yesterday. . . . I really don’t want to do anything.”
“What? Where? Where did you see him?”
Weslee told Sherry how she had bumped into Duncan and his fiancée, not leaving out the addendum from Lana’s conversation.
“Oh, Wes,” she said, putting her arms around Weslee. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s OK,” Weslee sniffed. “Know what I really want, though?”
“What?” Sherry asked.
“A big, huge, fattening breakfast.”
Sherry raised her eyebrows. Weslee could tell that Sherry was restraining herself from telling Weslee that she should not be eating herself into an even deeper funk.
“Can we go to Mike’s Diner for breakfast? That would make me feel better,” Weslee said.
Sherry agreed.
“Gosh, I am such a fool, Sherry,” Weslee said as they drove to the South End restaurant.
“Stop it,” Sherry scolded. “I don’t understand why you’re being so hard on yourself. The guy is a cad, plain and simple. He knew he had to marry this girl. He should have left you alone or told her that he didn’t want to marry her. I don’t have to tell you you’re better off without him. You already know that.”
Weslee nodded. “I know, but it hurts so much. It’s just that I thought—”
“I know what you thought and what you’re thinking. This was just another love affair gone wrong, girl. It doesn’t mean you’re not a smart, beautiful, successful woman. Do you hear me, Wes?”
Weslee turned to look at her.
“I know your friend Lana and that whole Vineyard crowd can make you question whether you’re worthy to even walk the face of this earth. Trust me, my first year at Wellesley I told everyone my dad was a doctor ’cause I was so ashamed that he hadn’t gone to college and had some fancy job. But then some mean-spirited girl, one of Peony’s friends, somehow found out and busted me. She told everybody. I was ashamed, but I was happy, too. I never lied again. They still looked down on me, but it didn’t bother me, because, you know what? I just didn’t care what they thought about me anymore. Girl, I don’t live in a fancy neighborhood, and I don’t shop at Neiman Marcus, but do you think that’s keeping me up at night? I’m doing what makes me happy. I’m living the kind of life I’ve always wanted to live. And you need to stop feeling you’re not as good as or less than, ’cause it’s bull. Do you hear me, Weslee? It’s bull.” Sherry’s voice was strong and forceful, the way it changed when she was about to become angry.
Weslee looked out the passenger-side window. Sherry was so right. But it would take her a while before she could truly appreciate those words.
Chapter 39
The divorce had been good to Rainee Smalls. She got the four-bedroom contemporary vacation home near Oak Bluffs Harbor, plus the year-round homestead in Wayland. Yes, she had to work now—she’s a part-time English professor at a community college in the city—but she still had done well.
The Oak Bluffs house was not as grand, nor as well cared for, as those of her friends who still had their husbands and their husbands’ money, but Rainee knew that her home was welcoming and warm. Its tan and navy blue furnishings suited Rainee’s casual attitude. The inside looked more like something out of a Pottery Barn catalog than an Architectural Digest spread.
“Just make yourself at home,” she said after giving the just-arrived Weslee the tour and showing her to her room. “It has its own bathroom and a view of my little lagoon, my oasis,” she said.
Weslee gasped as she looked out of the window to see the tiny little circle of water surrounded by plants in fancy pots and sprouting from the fertile earth.
“Wow. This is beautiful, Rainee,” she said.
“I know. I work down there every morning.”
They talked at Rainee’s kitchen table, drinking decaf coffee in the cool home. Weslee couldn’t help but noticing how at ease she felt. It was nothing like the discomfort she had felt the year before at Eleanor’s party. Rainee was easy to talk to, warm and open.
Weslee was relieved to hear that Peony, Rainee’s daughter, would not be there that weekend. She could not put out of her mind Peony’s frosty attitude that first day they met. And from what Sherry had told her of her experiences at school with Peony and her friends, she certainly did not want to see the woman. She wondered how Rainee could be so different from her own daughter.
“This wedding is going to kill me,” Rainee said. “I’ve been so stressed about it. I can’t wait to just get that girl married off.”
Weslee laughed. “Why? She’s on her own in the city, isn’t she?”
“Well, yes. But she’s not like you, Weslee. Her father’s still paying her rent every month. It’s like she refuses to grow up. She’s more like Lana.”
Rainee immediately apologized.
“It’s OK. Lana and I patched things up a while ago, Rainee. Right after she had the accident, we had a long talk. All that negative stuff is in the past.”
“Is that right? Well, that’s wonderful, Weslee. I haven’t seen her lately; I hear she’s been overseas. But from what Eleanor’s telling everyone, she’s changed a whole lot.”
“Yes, she has. I’ve only spoken to her a few times in the past month or so. But I’m seeing he
r today.”
After putting Rainee through a rigorous two-hour workout in her basement gym, Weslee was free to go off and explore the island on her own. She opted to visit Lana.
It was a warm afternoon, and she felt it would probably be better to walk than drive her car around the unfamiliar island. Eleanor’s house was about a mile away, according to Rainee.
Weslee walked through the quaint, tiny streets full of tourists, a diverse crowd from young urban professionals to retired couples. She couldn’t help but wonder whether Duncan and his fiancée were somewhere on this island. She was hoping against hope that she would not run into him again.
Lana had sounded noncommittal on the phone when Weslee finally got hold of her. “Gosh, I’ve been so busy lately, Wes,” she had said when Weslee expressed concern about Lana’s standoffishness. Weslee worried that maybe Lana had relapsed into drinking.
When she finally arrived at Eleanor’s house, sweat was pouring down her back and she could feel her white T-shirt sticking to patches of her skin.
She rang the bell and waited. A minute passed, and she rang again. The garage was around back, and she noticed that it was closed. There was no way to tell if anyone was home.
She rang several times, but no one came to the door.
She finally walked away, confused and hurt. She had talked to Lana just the day before and told her that she would be there. What had happened?
The thought that dawned on her as she walked back to Rainee’s house, this time ignoring the parade of tourists on Circuit Avenue, was one she did not want to stomach.
Had Lana intentionally snubbed her? How could that be? Hadn’t they made up? Hadn’t Weslee herself helped nurse her back to health after the accident? There must have been some misunderstanding. Maybe Lana had had to go out suddenly and had forgotten that she had told Weslee that she would be home. There had to be some misunderstanding, Weslee thought.
Chapter 40
Weslee had a choice. She could creep back into Rainee’s house and hope that she would not have to explain why she was back so soon from visiting Lana, or she could take in more of the sights. She decided to go for the latter. She walked along the narrow roads of Rainee’s neighborhood, absorbing the beautiful, quaint homes with their landscaped yards and fresh-smelling flowers. A few children played in the huge front yard of one of the houses. She smiled at them. They smiled back and one of them waved. She hated herself for thinking that in twenty years they might not be as friendly to people like her. She shrugged it off.
The wind from cars, bicycles, and mopeds whipping past her blew at her skirt. She wished she had her car. She decided to head back to Rainee’s house. It was way too warm for a walk. She noticed one particular half-built house farther up the street. Curiosity pulled her to it. It was a very unusual-looking house. The half that had been built was up on stilts and resembled half a circle.
“Like that?” a construction worker on the site said to her.
“Yes. It’s really . . . cool looking,” she said.
He laughed. “That’s how most people describe it,” he said. “The architect who designed it is here. He’s out back, I think.”
“Oh, that’s OK. I was just sightseeing. I really—”
She couldn’t finish her sentence. William came from the back of the house, wearing a polo shirt and jeans and construction boots, a clipboard in hand. His eyes met hers, and he stopped short for a few seconds before his face broke into a smile.
“Wes? Is that you?”
“William!”
The construction worker looked from William to Weslee and back again, and then walked to the back of the half-finished house.
“What are you doing here?” they said in unison and laughed.
“I’m visiting Lana. I mean, I’m spending the weekend with Rainee Smalls, and I went to visit Lana, but she’s not home.”
“Oh. Wow. How come you haven’t called?”
She shrugged. She wasn’t sure he wanted to hear from her. “I’ve just been busy. You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”
“Oh. That. Yes. This house is one of my problem children.” He smiled. It was one of the houses he had designed for a demanding client. “They’ve changed their minds again about some of the materials; that’s why I’m here working on such a beautiful weekend.”
Weslee complimented him on the design of the rounded house, and she could see the pride in his face. They made more small talk, and then she began to say good-bye.
“Hey, have dinner with me tonight,” he said.
“Um. Uh. OK.”
“Can I pick you up at Rainee’s?”
“Sure,” she said.
She waved good-bye to him and walked away, as if on air, back to Rainee’s house, temporarily forgetting about Lana.
“I love this place,” Weslee said, looking around the dimly lit shacklike seafood restaurant.
William beamed. “I wasn’t sure whether a sophisticated city slicker like you would go for it. But I’m glad you like it.”
She laughed.
“You look great, by the way,” he said.
She blushed, her pink halter dress accentuating the color on her lips and cheeks.
William talked about his client, a New York businessman who had been holding him hostage for three months with his demands.
“I can’t wait for this house to be finished. I’m going off to Jamaica for three weeks, no cell phone, no pager, no Palm.”
“Sounds nice,” Weslee said, wondering where Megan fell into those plans.
As if reading her mind, he said, “Oh, did I tell you that Megan got a job in California?”
“No. That’s great for her,” Weslee exclaimed. Thank God, she said silently. “So you’ll be flying out there a lot, I guess?” She couldn’t be any more transparent.
He shook his head. “It really wasn’t that serious. We’re still friends, though.”
The waiter came, giving Weslee a chance to fully absorb William’s words. He was single. He was available.
As usual when she was with him, the time flew by quickly. They talked about their families. William remained close to his parents, who lived outside of Boston in the town of Randolph.
“You would like them,” he said. “They’re just like your folks. So, how’s the training business?” he asked as the waiter set his lobster before him and Weslee eyed her halibut hungrily.
“It’s going well. I would never have thought that I could make any money at this. I really have Rainee Smalls to thank for that. She’s gotten me so many clients, I almost don’t have time to see them all.”
“Why don’t you get yourself organized? You know, Weslee Inc.”
Weslee laughed. “This is only a part-time thing to get me through business school. Once I graduate, I’m going back to corporate America.”
William leaned back in his chair. “Is that what you want?”
Weslee thought for a few seconds. “Yes. Yes. I want a good, secure profession.”
“And that would make you happy?”
“It would make me secure, so yes, happy.”
He shrugged and started eating his lobster again.
“OK. What are you getting at, William?” She knew there was something he wanted to say to her.
“I’m not going to give you a lecture. But I will tell you that I was on the fast track at the biggest architectural firm in the country five years ago, and I was bored out of my skull. They thought I could do no wrong, and if I had stayed I’d probably be in some executive office making a lot more than I’m making now, and I wouldn’t have as many sleepless nights. But I wouldn’t trade what I have now for anything.”
“It’s not the same thing, William. You’ve always liked to design homes and buildings and be around construction sites. For me, running, athletics, it’s just a hobby, not the way I ever imagined myself making a living.”
William sighed. “But that’s exactly my point. Know what Mark Twain said? Make your vocation your v
acation. This is something you already love to do. Why not get paid for it? Hell, in a couple of years you’ll probably have your own health club.”
She laughed uneasily. The more he talked, the more she began to see it. But she was afraid. “It sounds good, William. But this just isn’t what I planned for. I just want a job analyzing stock funds for a big investment bank.”
“And then what?” He leaned in to her face. “Does that make you excited? Does that make you want to leap out of bed every day?”
“No. But it’s secure, and I know it.”
He shook his head. “Nothing’s secure in life. Not even the things you think you know.”
They ate silently for a while, and Weslee tried to process all the thoughts that were going through her head. “Maybe it could work,” she said. “I’ll have to do some research.”
“On what?”
“Well, you know. The costs and stuff like that.”
“All you need is some light equipment. And I can help you if you’d allow me to.” William smiled.
Weslee ran her hand through her hair. “It just seems so . . . so . . . crazy.”
“Wes, it makes perfect sense. Think about it.”
“It’s just that I’ve never been a big risk-taker.”
“You moved here all by yourself, that was a big risk,” he said slowly.
“Yes. But I moved here because of school. I mean, I left Chicago because I wanted to go to business school in the Northeast.”
William sighed again. “Weslee, I’m not trying to be your therapist. I’m just trying to let you see that you’re capable of much more than you give yourself credit for. That’s all. So, when do you go back to Boston?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.
“Monday morning.”
“Will I see you at Rainee’s party tomorrow night?”
“Wow. She only told me about it this afternoon. But since I’m staying at her house, I’ll have no choice but to be there. I’m glad I ran into you today, William.” Weslee picked at her lemon meringue pie.
“Me, too.” He smiled as he signaled the waiter for the check.
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