Chapter 33
Without you…
I could hardly wait to open the book and look at Max’s inscription, but Guy insisted on coming back to the house, and every time I made a move to go upstairs, he called me back.
Teddy had gone off with Veronica Buffington, and in an unprecedented move, he hadn’t asked anyone else to go with them. Miranda, not a great fan of Veronica’s, was happy to come home, but Dolores’s usual veneer of helpful good cheer was showing cracks. Normally she would have offered to go make coffee or pour drinks. Nothing.
“I’m going to bed,” she said.
“So early?” Miranda asked. She didn’t seem to care what Dolores did anymore. I think they were getting tired of each other. As I mentioned before, Miranda’s friendships were usually seasonal, and this one had lasted almost a year.
I couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for Dolores. She’d spent many months tracking her prey and now it looked like he was about to trip off into the wilderness with a more exotic animal.
Miranda sat on a large chair with her feet tucked beneath her. She smiled at Guy.
“That Max Wellman is something, isn’t he?” she said. “So well-spoken, so talented, so incredibly good-looking.”
Why didn’t Guy ever go home? I was sick of his constant chatter: he was beginning to sound like mood music played off-key.
“I’m going to bed.” I attempted another escape.
“It’s too early.” Guy grabbed my arm.
“Not for me. Good night.”
I extricated myself and went upstairs without saying another word. There was no way I was going to wait for Guy to say his goodbyes, which usually started in one century and ended in the next.
Upstairs, I sat at my desk, opened the book, and ran my hand over the inscription. All it said was “Without you…” That was it—cryptic.
What could I do but write the end of the sentence myself. It was time I did something on my own behalf. I’d have to make sure that those words held a world of possibility rather than a lifetime of disappointment. If given the opportunity, I’d tell Max how I felt, how I’d always felt. I’d wasted so much time trying to protect myself, and where had it gotten me? I was plagued by a dull ache that never went away, a tumor of regret, not exactly benign but not terminal either.
In the morning when I went downstairs, Winnie and Charlie were already there. Someone had gone to Isabelle’s for muffins and croissants. Winnie had chocolate on her chin.
“Win, you’ve got chocolate…” I pointed to her chin and handed her a napkin.
“Thanks,” she said, and wiped it off.
“Our sister was the star of the evening last night,” Miranda said. She licked some strawberry jam from her lips. She was, apparently, no longer off sugar. “Jane is a patroness of literature.”
“I knew that,” Winnie said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Everyone knows that. I’m surprised you didn’t. You’ve got to look past your own nose once in a while, Miranda. What on earth do you think Jane’s been doing all these years?”
Miranda stared at her. “Piddling about,” she said.
“Hardly,” Winnie said.
“Let me get you a coffee, Jane,” Charlie said.
“I’ll get it.”
“No, sit down. Let someone do something for you for a change.”
He brought it over. He remembered how I liked it, with cream and sugar.
I sat at the table and picked out a cranberry muffin.
“We’re having a party,” Miranda announced.
“We are?” I asked.
“We are?” Teddy echoed.
“We absolutely must. Winnie and Charlie are here and we must have a party for them. We’ll have it on Saturday night—just something casual, a few friends. We haven’t had a party this summer and it’s high time.”
“In honor of us,” Winnie said. “That’s fabulous, Miranda. What a great idea.”
“It’s the least I can do,” she said, leaning back. “You know it is the thing I do best.” She paused, looked up toward the ceiling as if pretending that she wasn’t thinking of anything in particular. “That Max Wellman, he’s very attractive.”
“You’ve mentioned that before,” I said.
“And rich,” Dolores said.
“We should invite him,” Miranda said. “Do you think he’d come if I asked him?”
I didn’t see how an invitation from Miranda Fortune would mean anything to him, but Miranda was sure that her invitations were special and would be accepted by anyone who received one. All Max knew about Miranda was that she was my rather dismissive sister who didn’t even remember having met him once years ago. He’d been a nobody then, just a struggling writer without money or reputation. She hadn’t noticed him.
“We’ll invite the Buffingtons,” Miranda said. “I’ll even suffer Glenda-the-Good-Witch for the sake of the party. She’d better not bring one of her battered women, though. She doesn’t ask if she can bring them; she just drags them along as if they’re her date. Do you think Sylvia Piorello, the opera star, wanted a woman with a whopping black eye at her beach soirée. I think not.”
“It might be nice for those women to have a chance to go to a party,” Dolores said.
“Well, you should know,” Miranda said.
“Dolores never fails to see the good side of things.” Teddy patted her on the shoulder.
“I think the idea of the party is delicious—battered women or no battered women,” Winnie said. “And we appreciate the gesture, don’t we, Charlie?”
He nodded. Charlie and Winnie seemed to be getting along much better than when I’d last seen them. I’d been worried, but I was sure Winnie was right—I didn’t know anything about the way long-term relationships worked; it was inevitable that they ebbed and flowed.
“That’s Miranda all over. She’s always so thoughtful,” Dolores said. We all looked at her. We were not completely unaware of our faults, both as a family and individually. Dolores usually managed complete sincerity with her compliments—it was her gift—but this one was so patently ridiculous that it flew up like a balloon, popped, and emitted an unpleasant gas.
“Thank you, Dolores,” Miranda said, pulling herself up straight.
Charlie said that he and Winnie had an announcement.
Oh no, it was what I feared. They were getting a divorce. This romantic vacation was a ruse. But Winnie was beaming. If something was wrong, she didn’t know about it.
“I got a job,” she said.
“A what?” Teddy asked.
“A job.” Her voice was full of excitement. “I really did.”
Miranda slumped back on her chair, Cleopatra among her attendants. “What kind of job?” she asked.
Winnie stood and looked to Charlie to provide her with fanfare. He drummed on the table with a spoon.
“You are looking at the next…” Charlie paused and drummed on the table some more.
“Personal shopper at Barneys,” Winnie said.
“What?” Miranda asked.
“I didn’t even know they had a Barneys in Boston,” Dolores said.
“It’s a small one. And I already have a few private clients as well. I’m a natural.” Winnie had managed to get chocolate on her chin again, and this time Charlie reached over to wipe it off.
“Congratulations, Winnie,” I said. “It’s perfect.”
“I don’t see why you have to do something like that,” Teddy said. “Are you having trouble with finances?” He said it as if he would be willing and able to help her if she were.
“Not at all,” Charlie said. “Winnie needed a purpose.”
“And buying stuff for other people is a purpose?” Miranda asked.
“It’s my purpose,” Winnie said. “And Charlie’s been so supportive.” She kissed him on the cheek.
“Well, dear, if you’re happy, I’m happy,” Teddy said. Teddy was mellowing.
“Anyway, I’m going shopping this morning to look for things for my priva
te clients. Would anyone like to go with me?”
I think she was expecting Miranda, or even Dolores, to volunteer, but I offered to go. I was restless and wanted to get out of the house. I went upstairs and put on a sundress and sandals.
Winnie was alone in the kitchen when I came down. She said that everyone else had dispersed to do their own things. Teddy was reading the paper. Miranda had gone off on party business. Dolores was upstairs doing whatever it was Dolores did, and Charlie had gone for a walk.
We strolled toward Main Street. A soft breeze tickled my bare arms. The flowers along the front walk sparkled with drops from the previous night’s rain and everything smelled fresh, earthy, and new.
Chapter 34
Five for lunch
On Main Street, groups of people gathered outside corner coffee shops to enjoy the good weather. Winnie wanted to go into a certain boutique she liked to visit every year.
The owner, Sally, was lying in wait for her. Before we even made it through the door, Sally came outside and pulled Winnie into the type of hug reserved for old sorority sisters.
“Some things have come in that are perfect for you,” Sally said as she led Winnie inside. “And there’s a face cream that’s just flying out of the store.”
Those were magic words. Anything that was flying out of the store was a sure choice for Winnie. “See my skin?” Sally said. “Don’t I look years younger?”
“Ten years, at least. It’s like magic,” Winnie said.
I wandered around the store looking at things. There was no point in trying to save Winnie from this woman who was little better than the type of charlatan you might find in a book by Mark Twain.
Shopping was Winnie’s way to hope. She had to have something to hope for and she chose magic potions that promised to make you thinner or younger. To tell her that nothing would make her thinner but exercise, and nothing at all would make her younger, would be like trying to convince a true believer that there is no God.
We left Sally’s shop with many packages, most of them Winnie’s. I bought a stiff white blouse with a large collar that belted in the middle and a pair of black silk pedal pushers that I thought would work well for Miranda’s party.
Even though I had an eye out for Max, I didn’t see him until I almost walked into him outside a restaurant where people were gathered on the street waiting to get in. Duke was with him.
“Hello, ladies. You must come and have lunch with us,” Duke said.
“We barely finished breakfast,” Winnie said. She looked anxiously down the street at all the stores she had yet to visit.
“I’d love some lunch,” I said.
“I’m afraid it’s a bit of a wait,” Duke said. “I’ll go in and tell them it will be four.”
“I’m going to the little girls’ room,” Winnie said, and followed him in.
That left me alone with Max.
“I liked the inscription in the book,” I said.
“You did?”
“A bit cryptic,” I said. He smiled. “I decided to fill it in for myself.”
“Did you.”
“Yes. Without you, I wouldn’t be the man I am today.”
“That works,” he said.
He seemed colder this morning. I tried to think of what I might have done last night to bother him. Then I remembered his look when I turned to wave goodbye and he saw me walking out with Guy’s hand resting on the small of my back.
The idea of Max being jealous of Guy was ridiculous, but I couldn’t think of another reason for his sudden coldness. Still, it couldn’t be that.
I looked up at Max. He was standing in the sun and I had to squint. Most women don’t look attractive when they squint and I’m sure I’m no exception. Max was just about to say something when I heard my name being called. I turned around and there, coming down the street, dressed for tennis, was Guy Callow. He smiled, waved, walked up to us, and kissed me on the lips. He rested his hand on my shoulder and I lifted it off. Then he looked up at Max as if he’d just seen him there.
“Hello, Max. Jane, you promised to have lunch with me,” Guy said.
“No I didn’t,” I said.
“Don’t you remember, honey?” he asked. I might be preoccupied, but I was hardly demented. I knew when I made a lunch date and when I didn’t. And why was he calling me “honey”?
I looked down the street and saw Dolores slipping into an ice cream store.
“Isn’t that Dolores?” I asked.
Guy shrugged. “Why would I know where Dolores is?”
“I thought I saw her, that’s all. Look, Guy, Winnie and I have just been invited to join Max and Duke for lunch. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember making a lunch date with you.”
“You must have been drunk last night,” he said, and raised an eyebrow toward Max. It was a we-guys-are-all-in-this-together look.
I tried to remain calm.
“I most certainly was not drunk,” I said.
“I don’t know why you would have forgotten, then,” he said.
Duke came out.
“Reservation for four,” he said. Guy turned to Duke.
“Duke Franklin, sir, I’ve read every book you’ve ever written.” He put out his hand and Duke shook it. I knew it was wrong and extremely impolite not to introduce Guy, but I chose not to. “I’m Guy Callow, Jane’s boyfriend.”
“My what?”
“Oh, Jane. You don’t have to be so shy about it.”
“You are not my boyfriend.”
“Semantics, semantics,” he said. “Jane promised to have lunch with me today, but it seems she forgot. Do you mind if I join you?”
I looked up at Max, who was scowling, the type of unconscious scowl you’d never make if you were aware you were doing it.
“Of course you can join us,” Duke said. “Any friend of Jane’s is…as they say.” He gave me a curious look and disappeared back into the restaurant to change the number of the party.
Winnie came out.
“What a crowd. Oh, hello, Guy.”
Duke came back to tell us that our table was ready and we snaked our way through the restaurant to a booth for four. The waiter put a chair at the end of the table to accommodate a fifth. Duke took that chair. Winnie slid in first. I slid into the other side. Max and Guy bumped shoulders as each tried to slip in beside me without making it obvious. Max won.
After we ordered, Duke started talking about Basil and Lindsay.
“I was disappointed,” he said. “Basil was so destroyed by Cynthia’s death. He claimed to love her so much that he couldn’t even leave our property. I don’t say he’s a bad person. He’s a friend, after all—almost family.” Duke paused and pulled something from his pocket. It was a ring box. He opened it. Inside was a large and sparkling square-cut diamond. “He asked me to get this ring reset. There’s a specific jeweler in Oak Bluffs.”
“I’ll do it,” Max said, and took the box from Duke.
“It just seems to me that Cynthia wouldn’t have forgotten him so fast,” Duke said.
“Women are different,” I said. “I think they love longer.”
“How can you say that?” Max asked.
“Easily. I don’t want to denigrate Basil or his love for Cynthia, but I believe that true love lasts.”
“Even if the person you love is gone?” Duke asked.
“Even then,” I said.
“Oh, Jane, you’re such a romantic,” Guy said. His voice was light but derisive, as if being a romantic was a silly thing to be.
My hand was resting on the table and Max raised his until it was just above it. For a moment I thought he was going to bring it down over mine, but he didn’t.
“I’ll be back,” Guy said. “This is getting a little heavy.” He slipped out of the booth and I didn’t see where he went, but he never came back. We finished our food and ordered coffee.
Winnie looked up.
“Isn’t that Guy and Dolores walking by the window together?” Winnie asked.
“Why would he disappear in the middle of his meal? And Dolores isn’t exactly his best friend. He doesn’t even like her,” I said.
I realized, too late, that I sounded like a spurned and jealous girlfriend. Max finished his coffee quickly and said that he’d better go to Oak Bluffs to find the jeweler.
Duke paid for lunch and we all walked into the street.
“That was strange,” Duke said.
“What?”
“That Guy character getting up and leaving like that without even a goodbye.”
I was about to say that he must have had a good reason, but I stopped myself. I didn’t know if he had a good reason and I didn’t care. If I said anything, it would only make it look like I did care, so I kept my mouth shut.
Chapter 35
In which Isabelle reveals all
That evening I went to see Isabelle. She had a summer cold and was bundled up in a large chair. She had a box of tissues nestled in her lap. Jimmy was waiting on her, but she kept waving her hand at him and telling him to go out with his friends.
It took both of us to convince him, but finally Jimmy got ready to go.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said.
Isabelle smiled.
“Fine, fine,” she said. As soon as he was out the door, she said, “He’s a good kid, that Jimmy.”
“You’ve done a good job.”
She shrugged.
“I’m not sure that I had much to do with it. Kids are what they are. I’ve been lucky.” She paused. “Listen, Jane, I’m glad you came by. I have something I need to tell you.” I waited. “I hear you’ve been seeing a lot of Guy Callow. There’s talk on the island that you’re a couple.”
“Who would bother to talk about me?”
“Everyone talks about everyone. That’s not the point. Is it true? Are you and Guy a couple? I would have thought you’d say something to me, but you were always pretty closemouthed about that sort of thing.”
“We are not a couple. First, I don’t really like him, and second, he used to be Miranda’s boyfriend. I’ve never even slept with him.” I felt a little guilty saying this, since I’d come so close, but the fact was, I hadn’t slept with him and had no intention of sleeping with him. In this day and age, how much of a couple could that be?
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