A Wedding on the Beach

by Holly Chamberlin

  “I’m sorry,” Nathan said gently. “I’m sorry this reunion isn’t turning out to be as happy as you hoped it would be.”

  “Am I wrong to feel betrayed?” Bess asked, hearing the plaintive note in her voice. “Or am I just reacting like a spoiled child, upset that she didn’t get exactly the right color pony she wanted for her birthday and overlooking all of the other lovely gifts she’s been given?”

  Bess lifted the lid of the blue silk case to reveal each of the charms laid out securely in a bed of cream-colored satin. “Maybe I should just forget about giving everyone his or her charms,” she said, “donate them or sell them for the metal weight. No one’s going to really appreciate them. I’ve been behaving as if I’m still in grade school when kids form these silly clubs and wear the same friendship bracelet woven in the same color threads and everyone thinks it’s all so deadly important.”

  Nathan tightened his grip on her shoulders. “This is not the same thing as a grade school club and you know it,” he said forcefully. “Come on, Bess, there’s nothing wrong with your feeling so deeply about the old group, nothing at all. You’re Bess Culpepper, and Bess Culpepper’s heart is a big one. Loving unconditionally and forever is what you do. But if you really feel that giving the charms to your friends isn’t what you want to do at this point,” he went on, “there’s no tragedy in that. But I suggest you hang on to them, at least for a while. You might change your mind.”

  Bess looked up at Nathan and attempted a wobbly smile. “I suppose you’re right. I might change my mind . . .” Bess closed the case resting on her lap. “Thank you, Nathan,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 59

  Bess had served yet another excellent meal, though Marta’s appetite hadn’t been particularly stimulated by the pork roast and grilled vegetables. Everyone else had eaten heartily; even Allison had finished what she had put on her plate.

  Now the three women were sitting on the back porch. Allison and Bess were sipping brandy; Marta was nursing a cup of herbal tea. It tasted vaguely oily. Why she was bothering to finish the drink escaped her.

  With the exception of Chuck, who was having an early night, the men had gone off to play miniature golf; the baby was in bed. Marta wished she had gone with the guys. She was very good at miniature golf. Why was it that so often women got left behind with other women when what they really wanted to do was to hang with the men? It was her own fault, Marta thought. There had been nothing stopping her from going with Nathan and the others but her own knee-jerk sense of loyalty to her girlfriends.

  “I’ve been thinking about divorce,” Allison said suddenly. Then she laughed. “Well, I would be, wouldn’t I? What I mean is, I wonder how many of the couples we knew in college are still together. I’m not sure it’s the norm for our generation to choose a lifelong mate so young. Or is it?”

  “I don’t know,” Marta admitted. “I’m sure there are studies that can provide us the answer.”

  “Maybe I’d rather not know.” Allison turned to Bess. “Maybe the norm is for women to marry later, like you are, after their careers are established. Each generation must feel it needs to redefine how things should or shouldn’t be done.”

  “And yet can anyone really say definitively this way or that way is best?” Marta shook her head. “I don’t think so, not when it comes to matters of the heart like marriage and kids. In the end, it all comes down to individual choice.”

  “Did you know that you and Chuck were often mistaken for a couple?” she suddenly asked Bess.

  “I knew and I didn’t mind because I had a crush on Chuck for a while,” Bess said. “But I never thought for one moment that anything would come of it. I’m sure he knew how I felt, too. You know me. I’ve never been good at hiding my feelings.”

  “Remember the girl with the frizzy blond hair who lived on the floor below us?” Allison asked. “She was head over heels in love with Chuck. She pursued him with a vengeance. Did she really think her charms—dubious though they were in my opinion—could override a basic truth of Chuck’s nature?”

  “She was stupid,” Marta stated, “pure and simple. And I don’t think that what she felt for Chuck was love. He was a challenge, that’s all. If she had succeeded in seducing him you can be sure she would have dumped him the very next day.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Bess replied musingly. “I think she really was in love.”

  “She was in love with a phantom of her own imagination,” Marta went on, “not the Chuck we knew, the real man. That kind of delusion is dangerous.”

  “Oh well,” Bess said with a shrug. “People always pay for their bad behavior in some way.”

  “Do they?” Marta said. “I think plenty of people get away with murder or close to it.” Look at how she had gotten away with her one-night stand with Chris, she thought, her stomach tensing. Look at how she had gotten away—at least so far—with her lie to Mike. She had told him she was happy about the new baby. She was not.

  “So, Bess,” Allison asked teasingly, “are you sure you never had any romantic interest in Chris or Mike?”

  Marta tightened her grip on her mug of tea and wondered where—if anywhere—Allison was going with this line of questioning.

  Bess nodded firmly. “Totally sure. And not just because they were dating my friends. No offense, Marta, but Mike’s habit of scratching his head when he’s thinking about something serious would drive me nuts. And Chris, well, he looks too much like you, Allison, for me to have a crush on him. Ick.”

  “Ick?” Allison repeated with a laugh.

  “I think Mike’s habit of scratching his head is cute,” Marta said a bit huffily. She didn’t really think it was cute. But she felt the need to defend her husband. It was what a wife did.

  “What?” Bess cried. “You asked me for the truth and I told you!”

  “Be careful what you ask for . . .” Marta mumbled.

  “Now it’s time for me to put you on the hot seat,” Bess announced. “Did either of you ever fancy the other’s guy?”

  Allison laughed. “As pathetic, or as grandly Romantic, as it might sound given what’s happened, I never looked at—let alone thought about—another guy from the moment I met Chris.”

  “Me, neither. I mean, not Chris, Mike,” Marta added hurriedly.

  “I never looked at another guy once I met Mike. Okay, for a brief time I had a crush on George Clooney, but a celebrity crush isn’t the same and who didn’t have a crush on George Clooney at one point in his or her life?”

  Bess frowned. “But wasn’t there a guy in our senior year that you liked for a while? He was a transfer student from—was it Bulgaria?”

  “That was nothing,” Marta said dismissively. “I was never interested in anyone but Mike.” There was no way Bess could know about her one night with Chris, Marta told herself forcefully, willing herself to believe it. And Chris would never, ever have told Allison, no matter how angry he was with her.

  Probably.

  The trouble was that a guilty conscience needed no accuser.

  “So, the kids are doing okay with your mom and dad?” Allison asked.

  Marta was grateful for the change of topic. “According to my mother they’re thriving.” And how did she feel about that? Of course, she was glad her children were safe and secure. But she was also just a wee bit annoyed that they weren’t missing her all that much.

  “I’ve been feeling badly that I haven’t spent much time with Sam, Leo, and Troy,” Allison said. “I hope it’s not too late to build a real relationship with them.”

  Marta was touched. She wondered what had prompted Allison’s admission of benign neglect, as well as her desire for connection. Very likely both were related to the loss Allison had suffered. If she couldn’t be a mother of her own children she could be a friend to the children of other women. And she would never want to be a friend to children of a woman who had betrayed her. Marta was in the clear. Allison did not know about the one-night stand.

&
nbsp; “It’s not too late at all,” Marta assured her. “Thank you. I’d appreciate your getting to know my children better. And I know they’ll love getting to know you.”

  Bess sat placidly sipping her brandy. Clearly, she had no desire to form a stronger relationship with the MacIntosh clan. Then again, Bess’s nieces and nephews lived only a few hours away. If Bess were to suddenly develop an interest in anyone’s kids, it probably would be Ann’s and Mae’s.

  Still, Marta couldn’t resist stirring the waters. “Maybe I could send one of the kids to stay with you and Nathan for a weekend this fall,” she said brightly. “Not Troy, he’s too young, but Sam or Leo might be up for the adventure. What do you say, Bess?”

  Marta saw Allison put her head down in an attempt to hide a smile. And poor Bess! The color had drained from her face and though she opened her mouth as if to say something, no words came out.

  “It’s okay, Bess,” Marta said with a laugh. “I was only teasing.”

  “Sam might not be so bad,” Bess blurted. “I mean because she’s almost an adult.”

  Might not be so bad? “Don’t worry,” Marta assured her friend. “I won’t be shipping my offspring to Maine anytime soon and that’s a promise.”

  Bess smiled. “Whew,” she said. “Thanks.”

  The hostess with the most-est, Marta thought. Except when it came to children.

  Chapter 60

  Allison was tucked into her bed. She had just finished another cozy mystery, which meant that a second visit to the local bookstore was in order, that is, if she couldn’t find another favorite classic among the books in the living area. If reading was addictive, she was happy to proclaim herself an addict. She put the book on the bedside table, switched off the lamp, lay back on the pillows, and found herself rehearsing bits of the earlier conversation with Bess and Marta.

  Why had Marta so adamantly denied having a crush on that Bulgarian exchange student twenty years ago? The guy was cute and the past was the past. Could Marta have a guilty conscience? Maybe she had cheated on Mike back in college. But Marta didn’t seem the type to cheat, Allison thought. She was too rooted and clearheaded for something as crazy and dangerous as an affair, let alone a one-night stand.

  Less puzzling had been Bess’s comment about finding Chris too similar to Allison for her to see him in a romantic way. The resemblance between Chris and Allison was pretty obvious, if also fairly general. They were both tall, slim, blonde, and blue-eyed; most people stopped observing after noting those similarities. If they did look more closely they would see that Chris’s features were large and angular; Allison had always thought his profile would look right at home on a coin. Her own features were petite and rounded. While Allison was all legs, Chris’s body was more evenly proportioned between legs and torso. The way they moved differed, too. Chris did everything deliberately and slowly, while Allison moved with the energy of a hummingbird.

  But physical similarities and differences mattered nothing in the end. What mattered were the internal demons that tore a husband from his wife. An image of the man who had come to her rescue on the road flashed across her mind. Handsome, friendly Bill. What if the unimaginable happened, Allison thought, and she did fall in love again? Would love transform her for a second time into a creature of utter devotion and passivity? A creature of acquiescence? Or would love find her a different person next time, one too strong to warp, one willing to give and to sacrifice, but not at the constant expense of her truest self?

  It was interesting, Allison thought, that she hadn’t mentioned to the others Chris’s landing the big design gig. In the old days, she would have shared the news within minutes. But now? Now things were different. Anyway, Marta might dismiss the victory as meaningless; she wasn’t Chris’s biggest fan at the moment. But the others would be glad for Chris. Wouldn’t they? Chuck certainly would give his old friend his due, and Dean would probably follow suit. Bess would be happy for Chris; it wasn’t in her nature to be stingy with praise and like Dean, Nathan would likely side with his partner. As for Mike, well, he, too, would wish Chris and his father success, no matter his wife’s views.

  The sound of a car pulling into the drive caused Allison to check the time on her phone, charging by the bedside. It was after eleven. The guys must have stopped for a drink after their game of miniature golf. I should go with them next time, she thought, turning onto her side. She loved miniature golf but hadn’t played since she was a little girl on vacation with her parents. Yes, she thought as she sank off to sleep. I’ll go with them next time.

  Chapter 61

  “So, you guys had fun last night?” Bess asked with a smile. She and Nathan were in the den. “I can’t believe I didn’t hear you come in. It must have been the brandy.”

  Nathan laughed. “You were sawing wood, as the old saying goes.”

  “I was? But I never snore!”

  “Yes, you do. It’s not bad and it’s not often.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Bess asked. She felt a bit distressed.

  “I’m telling you now. Bess, it’s no big deal.”

  Nathan turned away and began to leaf through a pile of papers.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “You seem a little, I don’t know . . .” Distant. That’s what Bess wanted to say but was afraid to. “You seem a little preoccupied.”

  Nathan turned back to her. “Do I?” he asked. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. Though I am a bit worried Simon’s flight won’t get in on time for him to make the wedding. I suppose if he’s stuck in transit I can ask Howard to stand in for him. Ah, here’s what I was looking for,” Nathan announced. He sank onto the couch, immediately absorbed in what was printed on the document he had been seeking.

  Bess left him alone and went to the kitchen. She wasn’t quite sure she believed that Nathan was fine. Could he be getting cold feet? Was he hesitating about taking on the whole lot of them, which he would most certainly be required to do should he marry Bess Culpepper, the infamous anchor of the group? No. Bess knew she was being silly—she was, wasn’t she?—worrying about Nathan suddenly changing his mind and leaving her. She knew she was cherished. And yet . . .

  How could you ever be sure about anything? The answer was that you couldn’t. Welcome to the adult world. This wasn’t college, when life seemed pretty much eternal and everything and anything possible. People were always telling her as much. It was time she really heard them.

  The front door opened and a moment later Dean appeared, a watermelon under each arm. “Break out the vodka!” he cried.

  “I’m on it,” she told him.

  * * *

  “I was thinking,” Bess said as she laid her jeans over the back of the rocking chair. “You know that small writing desk in my bedroom? It might be a good idea to sell it and get a larger one and set it up by the window in the living room. My condo needs a few changes if it’s going to be really comfortable for the both of us.”

  Nathan was leaning against the dresser, his arms folded across his chest. “Mmm,” he said.

  “Nathan?” Bess asked. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes, of course. The small writing desk.” Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Bess. My mind was elsewhere. The thing is, there’s something we need to talk about.”

  A storm to shake up our complacency. I was right, Bess thought. There is something wrong. I knew it. He’s calling off the wedding. He doesn’t want to marry me after all.

  Of course. Allison and Chris were getting divorced. Chuck and Dean were battling an illness. Something was up with Marta, and that meant that something was up with Mike, too. And Bess was being left at the altar or almost. Her stomach began to lurch and her head to swim. She was going to faint in about thirty seconds. Maybe twenty. She knew it.

  Vaguely, she was aware of a voice. “Bess, sit down!” it said. “You’ve turned absolutely white.” Vaguely, she was aware of hands taking her arms, of her feet shuffling backward, of her butt hitting a firm surface. “Let me get y
ou some water. . . .”

  “No,” Bess croaked, her head clearing a wee bit. “Just tell me.”

  Nathan’s face came into focus. It was below hers. He was on his knees, his hands resting on her knees. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, searching her face as if for clues. “You scared me, Bess.”

  “Tell me,” she repeated. She swallowed hard. Even if Nathan was breaking up with her she had no desire to vomit on him.

  “The thing is,” Nathan began, taking her hands in his, “I’ve been offered a promotion. But it’s not as simple as just a promotion. It requires a relocation to Stockholm. It would only be for two years, at the end of which time I’ll have the option to extend the stay or come back to the States.”

  A wild laugh burst from Bess’s lips. “Is that all?” she gasped.

  Nathan, still on his knees, frowned. “I think you might still be light-headed. Why don’t you put your head between your knees? Makes the blood rush to your brain or something. Maybe I should get Chuck.”

  “No!” Bess cried, snatching her hands from his and putting one hand on either side of his dear face. “I’m fine. I thought you were . . . I thought you were going to tell me you’d changed your mind about the wedding.”

  Nathan began to tumble off his knees. “What!” he cried, catching himself by grabbing the bed. “Why would you think something like that?”

  “Never mind,” Bess said hurriedly. “Nathan, this is huge! You’re being transferred to Stockholm?”

  “Not as huge as my calling off our wedding! But yeah, it’s big.” Nathan got to his feet and perched next to Bess on the edge of the bed. “A transfer means a major change in everything we planned in terms of our day-to-day lives for the next two years.”