“So, what should I say?” Ben pointed out.
“You were the first boy,” Amanda said. “That’s different.”
“Yes, he’s our boy,” Elisabeth said, pretending to pinch Ben’s cheek.
I brought out glasses and a bottle of good wine. We all sat down at the table. Amanda uncorked the Pinot Grigio. “Tell the truth, Mom, did you have me because you looked at Elisabeth and said, ‘I know I can do better’?”
“No, Amanda,” Elisabeth said. “She had you because she thought she could strike gold again.”
“How about if I make dinner?” I said. “I could make pasta.”
“Great,” Ben said. “Do you have stuff for a salad?”
As Ben and I prepared dinner, Amanda went on about the wedding. She really had become a one-trick pony.
“Where should I seat Hannah at the reception, Mom?”
“Here we go again with the wedding,” Elisabeth said.
“Put her with Feldman and the brassiere brigade, of course.”
“You mean table 34C,” Elisabeth cracked.
Harvey had won. There were going to be two tables of his business associates, but I knew Amanda had stationed those tables next to the kitchen door. As for me, I had asked Amanda to invite Max, Cousin Leona and Steve, Dana and her family, and Candy. I knew Ellison couldn’t make it because of a business trip.
“I really need help with the seating plan,” Amanda said. “Where do I sit Hatfield and McCoy?”
“Who?” Ben asked as he sliced tomatoes.
“Dad’s cousins. They don’t like each other,” I said as I searched for the penne in the top cabinet.
“I’ve never known why,” Amanda said.
The water began to boil in the large pot. I hadn’t used a large pot in forever. I was so thrilled about the size of the pot. “Follow the money. It’s always about money. Someone dies. Someone is left out of the will. Someone gets angry. Everyone meets to talk—then no one speaks again.”
“Well, what should I do?”
“Put a few of Dad’s cousins with Jake’s family.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” Elisabeth asked.
“Jake doesn’t believe in mixed tables. He wants our family on one side of the room, his family on the other, and our friends in the middle.”
How nice—a human Berlin Wall.
“Where are we sitting?” I asked.
“We’ll be at one table. Table one, of course. You. Dad. Elisabeth. Ben. Jordan. Grandma Florence. Jake. Me.”
I was touched. I had thought for sure she would sit with her friends or alone with Jake in obnoxious wicker peacock chairs. Not that a bride spent downtime at a wedding. I couldn’t even recall eating at mine.
“What about Jake’s parents?” I asked.
“They want to eat their prime rib with family and friends from Wisconsin.”
Ben put the salad aside. “By the way, Mom. How is Jon? I have to say that I liked him.”
“He wasn’t what I expected,” Elisabeth piped in. “But he’s very interesting.”
They both turned to Amanda.
“The bride is the only one who hasn’t met him,” Elisabeth said.
“Shut up, Elisabeth,” Amanda blurted.
“Stop,” I said firmly. “He’s going to Japan the weekend of the wedding.”
“For a weekend?” Ben asked.
“For a little less than a year.” Who knows what will happen?
“What’s in Japan?” Ben asked.
“A job.”
“Why haven’t you told any of us about this?” Elisabeth said. “I thought you really liked him.”
“I didn’t feel like talking about it.”
And I didn’t want to give Amanda a reason, other than the wedding, to celebrate.
Amanda looked around my kitchen. “Why don’t you have anything hanging on your refrigerator?”
Like what—finger paintings?
“In the other house, you always had the fridge covered with stuff—report cards, awards, and so many photos. You even had pictures of Dad when he had hair.”
“Don’t take it personally,” I said. “Magnets don’t work on stainless steel.”
“No way,” Amanda said, appalled.
I went to the drawer and found a magnet that said, “Everyone needs a Jewish mother.” I held it to the fridge and then let go. We watched it fall to the wide-plank floor.
“What’s the point of a refrigerator that can’t be used as a bulletin board?” Ben asked.
“Except for keeping food cold, there is none,” I said.
When the four of us sat down for dinner, I felt like saying a prayer. But my prayers had already been answered. Now my new home was home.
Chapter 24
Jon stayed over the night before I flew to Florida. Even though it was December, he insisted on a barbecue. I watched him go back and forth to the grill with foil-wrapped sweet potatoes, mushrooms and onions, and the steaks I had marinated overnight. He never asked for a thing.
Harvey would have had me running back and forth with barbecue utensils—one at a time. “Where’s the long fork? I need a big spatula for these hamburgers. Marcy, we need salt out here. Okay, the food is ready. Hand me a platter.” The suburban man wants to be king of the barbecue—as long as you give him everything he needs to make it. He burns the meat. You mention it and what does he say? “You should have told me to take it off the grill.”
Thinking about this made me laugh. Jon asked what I was smiling about. “Nothing,” I said. Then I laughed so hard a tear ran down my face.
I set the dining room table with a centerpiece of tapered magenta candles and a gift I had bought him. I added French bread, a butter dish, and Jon’s favorite wine. I had searched three liquor stores to find Barton’s Super Tuscan.
Jon brought in the potatoes, the vegetables, and then the awesome steaks. His nose was red from the cold, and he shivered.
“Cold out there,” he said, rubbing his big hands together, separating his palms, and blowing on them. “I love a barbecue in the dead of winter. But before we eat, I want to take a minute to give you a present.”
“Really?”
We were in the dining room. He went to the kitchen and returned with a small gift.
“I brought you something too,” I said. I picked up my gift off the table. I held it behind my back.
We exchanged presents.
“Essentials of Japanese,” he said, grinning and laughing.
“Essentials of Japanese,” I shouted as I tore off the wrapping paper.
We raised the pocket-size paperbacks in the air.
“It’s for whenever you come visit,” he said.
How was I going to live almost a year without this man?
The following afternoon, my nonstop flight touched down in Florida. Amanda and Jake’s wedding was upon us at last. In black pants and a black-and-red shirt, I waited for the kids outside the terminal. I was overcome by heat and humidity. By the time the kids picked me up, I was as melted as a Swiss cheese sandwich.
“Remember the first time we met?” Jake said as he fit my rolling travel bag and suitcase into the trunk of the white rental car. “It was at an airport.”
“Well, I’m glad I ran into you,” I said.
“You certainly did run into me.”
Amanda scooted into the rear, leaving the passenger seat for me. I knew she meant it as an honor, and I thanked her.
At the Seascape, the palm trees lining the property waved hello to me. I thought of the wonderful times we had spent as a family at the resort, our go-to spot on winter breaks. Each morning, the kids dashed to the window to ascertain that it was a sunny day.
“The sun is out,” Amanda would say. “Yes, yes, yes.”
The Seascape had a welcoming horseshoe front entrance. Young men in pressed uniforms dashed around, parking and retrieving cars. The main building was white and curved. All the rooms featured latticed balconies with wrought iron chairs.
>
When I stepped from the car, the brightness bothered my eyes. The Florida heat was stifling. Who cared? As the valet drove off, I stopped to kiss Amanda.
“Everything is going to be wonderful,” I said. “You chose a perfect place.”
Even if it was your father who actually chose it, I thought.
I checked into my room, took a shower, and switched into a knee-length cotton robe I had brought along. My luxurious space was decked out in tropical colors. I stepped onto the terrace that overlooked the rushing high-tide Atlantic, the air fragrant with the smell of the sea. I leaned on the railing. I closed my eyes and became high on the scent of sand and salt.
I heard a knock.
“Open up,” Harvey said, loud enough that I could hear it on the terrace, and most people could hear it back in Connecticut.
Talk about ruining a magical moment. I might as well have been in a blizzard that closed all the roads.
I hadn’t seen Harvey yet, and I wasn’t ready to see him.
“What are you doing here?” I said through the door.
“I need to talk,” he said.
“No,” I said. “I’m resting. We’ll talk later.”
“It’s important.”
“I’ll meet you for lunch,” I said, trying to keep it friendly on the auspicious occasion.
“It’s about Amanda.”
“You’re just saying that so I will let you in.”
“Marcy, let me in.”
Grumbling, I opened the door for him and pointed to a checkered chair in the room that was catty-corner to another chair, with an end table in between. “Sit there,” I said. “What is it?”
He looked me over.
“You know, we carry silk nightgowns,” he said.
“Harvey, I don’t need to read your catalog. Just tell me why you are here.”
“We can’t let her marry him. His mother is a thief.”
“I told you that the first night we met her in the steak house.” What was it about men? They never noticed anything about anyone. Even after you pointed it out a dozen times or more. Harvey could spend an entire day with someone, and when I asked what he talked about it, he had no idea.
“Besides, isn’t there a saying, Harvey? ‘Don’t visit the sins of the kleptomaniac on her son.’ So she takes stupid, little things.”
“My mother couldn’t find her diamond earrings. So she called me to her room. I looked all over. The older I get, the more I detest looking for things.”
“The older you get, the more things there are to look for.”
He laughed.
“You know what you don’t like more than looking for something you misplaced?” I asked.
“What?”
“Looking for something someone else misplaced.”
“That’s not true,” he said.
“Then how come whenever I lost my phone, you never helped me look for it?”
“That’s different. No one wants to look for someone else’s cell phone.”
“And my keys?” I asked, but he ignored me.
“I passed Jake’s mom in the hall. She was wearing Mom’s earrings.”
“So, did you stop her?”
“Of course. She claimed they were hers, but I know she broke into my mother’s room.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because she had the guiltiest look on her face and because she has a record. She was in prison for a year.”
“What? Did you call the FBI?”
“Better. Feldman looked into it.”
“Jake’s mother may be a thief, but your daughter is in love with Jake.”
“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’?”
“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘You better stay out of the tree’?”
“So you want to have little thief grandchildren?”
“Look, Harvey, there’s nothing we can do. He’s your lawyer. He’s a good kid. Amanda is in love with him. And he is not the one who stole your mother’s earrings.”
Harvey insisted we confront Jake about his mother. I said I wanted no part of it. He called Amanda and told her to come to my room. I decided I would act like an audience. I was not saying a word.
“Dad has something to discuss,” I said. Well, so much for not saying a word.
I listened as Harvey told Amanda that Mrs. Burglar was just that. That she had gone to prison.
“That’s ridiculous,” she said. “Jake would have told me.”
“Maybe Jake is just embarrassed to tell you such a mortifying thing,” I offered.
“I’m about to become his wife. If his mother had been in jail, I think he has enough confidence in me to tell me.”
I didn’t know what to do, so I put my arm around Amanda. I hadn’t agreed with Harvey about telling her, but if Jake’s mother really had been a criminal and this wasn’t some quirk, Amanda should have known. And I had another thought. Maybe Jake had a few more secrets. Maybe he had secrets that were not about his mother but were about him.
I handed her a tissue.
She stood up, wiped her eyes, and shook her head, then straightened herself. There was the Amanda I knew and loved—as strong as they come.
“Where are you going?” Harvey said.
“To get to the bottom of this,” Amanda called back as she strutted out the door.
I invited Harvey to leave, which he did, finally, and I changed into my bathing suit. It was black, a maillot. When I wanted to diversify, I wore a similar suit in midnight blue. Dana liked bikinis, and she insisted that I would look fine in a two-piece, so I bought one once. It had narrow wavy stripes to match my stretch marks. Good-bye, bikini.
The pool was the shape of a pregnant egg with a large water slide on one end. The lounging area around the pool was alive with sun lovers, mothers dousing their children in SPF 125 suntan lotion, young couples lying on chaises while holding hands, and teenagers diving in front of the “No Diving” sign.
I had had enough drama. I needed to relax. I went to the hut where the cabana boy, who wore a tangerine Speedo and a navy golf shirt with the hotel’s logo, gave out towels and assigned chaise longues for the day.
“Can I help you?” the cabana boy said. He was very handsome. I watched his pectorals moving under his golf shirt. He was tanned to perfection, like a piece of perfect toast. His straight black hair was slicked back. His name was Quest. He was my first Quest.
“May I give you towels and bring you to a chaise?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“You are a beautiful woman,” Quest said.
I was certain he said that to all the women. The words came free with a chaise.
We walked past chaises with striped towels and books and lotions and beach bags strewn about until we reached one with an umbrella beside it that wasn’t being used. I knew that most of the chairs were taken because people came down early in the morning, threw a personal item on a chair, and thereby reserved a spot for later in the day. Chair hogs.
“Yes, you are stunning. From New York, right?” he said as he positioned a towel on the chair and tucked it in.
I always thought “from New York” was incognito for “Jewish.”
“Connecticut.”
“I hear there is a wedding. Are you the bride?” Quest said.
Okay, so now he has gone overboard.
“The bride’s mother,” I said.
“No way,” he said. “Your daughter must be getting married at fourteen.”
“Twelve,” I said.
“Oh, you’re charming too.”
I was about to hand him a tip so we could terminate this endless ooze of bullshit, when I got a much better idea.
“And you must be a movie star,” I said.
“An actor,” he said. “This is my day job.”
“Major movies, I guess.”
“I’ve done some soaps—filmed on location in Florida.”
“Did you play a doctor?”
“Yes. For three days last year, I played a surgeon who purposely killed a patient on the operating table, but she came back to life and murdered him.”
“Deep,” I said. “I used to watch General Hospital.”
He bent down to whisper something in my ear about Anthony Geary. I got a chill.
“So, beautiful lady, is there anything else I can do for you?”
Then I said it—and yay for me. “I could use some lotion on my back.”
“My pleasure,” he said.
I lay on the chaise, and he began massaging lotion into my shoulders. He used his fingers and then softly rolled his fists.
“You have magnificent shoulders,” he said in an attempt to up the tip. I didn’t mind. If he rubbed a little more to the left, I would give him my Volvo.
“Funny about that. My mother always told me that my shoulders were too round. ‘Sit straight,’ she would say. ‘No boy wants a girl with round shoulders.’”
“I want a girl with round shoulders,” he whispered into my ear.
I closed my eyes. I imagined he was not alone. In addition to him, Anthony Geary was applying lotion. I added the guy who played Robert Scorpio, the dashing Australian spy.
Suddenly, I heard Harvey’s voice. He was in swim trucks—no shirt, no shoes. His toupee was glistening.
“I can take over from here,” Harvey said to Quest.
Luke and Scorpio disappeared.
Harvey sat back on the chaise next to me, his elbows clasped above his head. His tummy seemed to wobble. “So I see you have a new type.”
“I do. Young and gorgeous.”
“And stupid.”
“Some things don’t take a lot of brains,” I said.
Harvey laughed.
“He was on General Hospital.”
“What did he play, a laboratory rat?”
“That’s not nice.”
“Can I buy you a drink?” Harvey said.
“No, but you can ask Quest to come back,” I said.
“Amanda called me,” Harvey said.
“So?”
“Jake said his family had decided never to discuss his mother’s problem, that she was getting help, and he was very sorry he hadn’t told Amanda about it.”
“And?”
Husbands and Other Sharp Objects: A Novel Page 21