by Jenny Hale
Her strong, confident, capable Pop was no longer standing before her. Little by little, time was stealing his independence, and it bothered her far more than she let on. She didn’t want him to think she pitied him, but the sadness she felt over it was so great. She wished she could rewind time and make it all go away. Clearly, from his comment, Pop was trying to keep things light, so Libby tried to be upbeat about it as well. “There are worse things, I suppose,” she said.
His eyebrows went up in thought. “You are quite right,” he said, Pete moving beside him and patting him on the back.
“How are ya, Pop? Enjoying the party?”
“I always enjoy a good party. You’d better get back, though. I saw the chefs arrive with the lobster a while back.”
“You had the party catered?” Libby asked, surprised. “Fancy.” No wonder Jeanie hadn’t needed to bring food.
The corners of Pete’s mouth turned up and he shook his head back and forth. “I’m sure that’s right up your alley,” he kidded.
“Oh!” Helen’s voice sailed over the lawn toward them. “Wait! Let’s take a photo! Pop, you get in the middle. Libby and Pete, get on either side!” She held the camera up to her face. “That’s nice!” she said from behind it. “Smile! One, two, three!” As Helen meandered off into the crowd, Libby took that moment to look at Pop and Pete together. It had been a long time since she’d been with just the two of them, everyone happy.
She remembered Pop, when they were kids, leaning over the kitchen table at Helen’s while Libby and Pete finished their homework. Pop, who was exceptionally good at algebra, would spend hours going over different rules for solving problems. She’d thought how he could be doing countless other things with his time, but he’d spent many evenings doing schoolwork instead. He was more like a dad than her own father.
She wanted something for her memory box, but there wasn’t anything around that she could grab. She wanted to remember that moment by the shore, when Pop was still lucid enough to know them all and when Pete was happy and sweet to her. It was sad to let the moment go without something by which to remember it.
When they got back up to the yard, Pete tended to the caterers, and Libby checked her phone while she was far enough inland to have good reception. A slew of emails that had probably been trapped in cyberspace waiting for a signal pinged into her phone. One of them was from an accounting firm in New York. Her heart leapt at the sight of it. She almost didn’t want to open it so that she could maintain her excitement a little longer. She was terrified to read it, fearful that it wasn’t everything she’d hoped for: her ticket back to New York, her only shot out of White Stone. She wandered around the side of the house to read it.
In all this bad luck, she’d started to doubt herself. She’d wondered if maybe her Manhattan job had been a fluke. She’d worried that she’d seen the peak of her career. When she had a city apartment, her designer clothes, a fantastic job and a handsome boyfriend, she felt like she could move mountains. Perhaps that had been her mother’s coaching, but it didn’t matter now. It was a part of who she was. She wanted to get her life back on track.
In the city, she watched mothers push strollers through Central Park wearing Stella McCartney boots and Fendi scarves, drinking lattes as they met the other mothers in the park. She wanted to be one of those mothers, going to the Children’s Museum on the Upper West Side on Saturdays. She wanted to have children to share her years with and a husband to care for and who cared for her. The first step in that journey was to get another job in the city. Once she was back, she’d meet more people, go out, and begin living her life again.
She scrolled through the email on her phone. They wanted to set up an interview, and they left a number to call. We are interested in finding out more about your skill set… Please call us at your earliest convenience… We’d like to have you in as soon as possible… The further she read in the email, the more her life came into focus. While White Stone was a lovely place to be, it wasn’t where she should be.
She read the words over and over, her heart pounding harder with every word. She had to rearrange her lips to mask the grin that wanted to spread across her face. She felt like screaming and running around the yard, waving her phone! Everything she’d worked for her entire life meant something at that moment because it proved that on paper, she was as worthy as everyone else she knew in New York. She had the right experience for the position being offered, and if she played her cards right, she’d nail the interview. She read the email one more time just for kicks.
“You better quit your hidin’ and get out here with the rest of us,” Libby heard Jeanie say from behind her.
She spun around, clicking off her phone and putting it in her bag. She wanted to throw her arms around Jeanie and yell out, I got an interview! “Hey,” she said instead.
“I have to admit that I’m glad you’re here.” Jeanie glanced over her shoulder in Pete’s direction.
It only occurred to Libby then that Jeanie might have planned all along to put Libby and Pete together. It would be just like Jeanie to try and play matchmaker. “You didn’t have to come with all that food. You knew it was catered, didn’t you?”
Jeanie flashed a conspiratorial smile, “I had to bring the food. What’s a party without my meatballs?” She laced her arm in Libby’s and tugged on her to start walking. “I don’t care if it is catered. That fancy chef doesn’t have anything on me.”
Libby giggled as they made their way back into the crowd. This time, Libby took a moment to pay attention to all the faces in front of her. Ryan’s little girl, Charlotte, went running past holding a party streamer as though it were a kite, the long red paper trailing behind her in the air. Libby recognized the two boys who lived near her cottage, Thomas and Matthew. They were pulling at their shirt collars, clearly uncomfortable in dressier clothing, while playing a game of beanbag toss. Pop was now in a chair under another large white tent that had been erected near the food. He was puffing on a cigar and drinking some sort of frozen drink with a pineapple wedge on the edge of the glass. Helen was leaning on the back of his chair, her glass of wine nearly empty, her cheeks rosy from the wind and alcohol.
“You want a drink?” Jeanie asked, letting go of Libby’s arm.
“I think I’ll just have water,” she wrinkled her nose. “I’ve already had a Mimosa.”
“Oh, go on. Live a little, why don’t ya?”
“No, ma’am. I’m having water, thank you very much. I can live again in about thirty minutes. One an hour. That’s my max.”
Jeanie rolled her eyes playfully. “I’ll be back then,” she said, leaving her on her own. As she looked around at all the people, the smiles on their faces, the easy way they were with each other, she thought about her mother. She wondered if Celia would enjoy herself if she came. Maybe it was the email she’d gotten or the mimosa, or even the joy of dancing with Pete that had put her in a sentimental mood, but Libby suddenly wanted her mom to share in the moment. Maybe she could loosen up a little, have fun. With Jeanie there, she didn’t worry too much about her mother going on and on about her. Jeanie would steer the conversation elsewhere. And she had Helen. Helen was always pleasant with Celia. It was a perfect opportunity to invite her mom. Libby pulled out her phone and texted her: I’m at the Bennetts’. It’s Helen’s birthday. Want to stop by? It’d be nice to see you.
While she was having a nice time, Libby realized she hadn’t really gotten much done with the cottage. A lobster lunch sounded much more appealing than stripping kitchen wallpaper. She promised herself that, after the party, Pete and her friends were not going to occupy her time. She had things to get done if she wanted to ever leave town.
Her phone pinged with a text: On my way!
Libby shook her head in amusement. She knew that Celia enjoyed being in the middle of the action, surrounded by people. She just hoped that she could help her mother to worry less about appearances and focus on just enjoying herself. She was glad to have time to spend
with Celia.
“Here’s your water,” Jeanie held out the glass, “and I brought you something else.” Pete stood beside Jeanie, grinning his crooked grin.
“Everything okay with the catering?” she asked Pete, unsure of what to say to Jeanie’s comment.
“Yep. Lunch should be out shortly.”
“Mom’s coming.”
Pete’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Look at you! Inviting your mom. I’ve never known you to be the family type.”
While he seemed to be joking, that comment rubbed her the wrong way. She was still a little anxious about being there, and now Pete was going to throw out a comment like that? Just because she had a slightly odd relationship with her mother did not mean that she wasn’t into family. “Why do you say that?” she asked. The comment had really bothered her.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve never seen you with your family out of choice before.” Jeanie had shrunk back and was taking baby steps toward the snack table.
“You’ve never seen me with my mother out of choice, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a family person.” The words were coming out harsher than she meant them to. She could hear it.
“Why are you getting so edgy over this?” He took a step closer, his brows pulling together, his head tilted to the side. Even that irritated her for some reason.
“I just think that you don’t know me anymore, Pete,” she said quietly. “You think you do, but you don’t. How do you know what I’m like?” she heard her voice rising, and she pulled it down to a more respectable level. Why was she so aggravated all of a sudden? She knew why. He was judging her. Just because she’d gone away didn’t mean she didn’t want the same things that everyone did.
“You’re right. I don’t know you,” he said and walked away.
Her whole body stung with agitation, her hand shaking around her water glass. The situation was frustrating. Pete hadn’t done anything wrong; he’d only been lovely to her, considering what she’d done to him. What was wrong with her? The whole situation put her in a bad place, and she wasn’t herself. She didn’t want to yell at Pete, and he didn’t deserve that, but she was on edge there all the time, and the slightest thing would set her off because she knew she’d ruined everything by what she’d said before she left, and she feared that she’d never get herself back together. Most of all, she feared that she’d get stuck there like her mother, and her mother had made it quite clear as she was growing up what being stuck there felt like.
“You okay?” Jeanie interrupted her thoughts.
She looked up at the sky in an attempt to calm herself down. “No.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Want a drink?”
She needed to get out of her head. She needed to loosen up. “Yep.”
“There’s my girl! We’ll have you dancin’ by the end of the party!”
Jeanie got Libby a glass of wine just as Pop called out that lunch was ready. She could hear the strumming of the guitar coming from the amplifier near the beach, and a couple of guys dressed like the caterer were taking silver dishes down to the tables. Libby and Jeanie followed the crowd, sitting at an empty table. It was nearly noon now and the wind had died down to a light breeze, just enough to relieve her of the sun’s intense rays.
Helen sat down at their table. “Feel like hosting the Birthday Girl?” she asked, her sweet face revealing her resemblance to Pete. She set her glass onto the table.
“We’d love to!” Jeanie said.
Pete walked by and Helen hooked him with her arm. “Sit by your mama, son. It’s my birthday so you have to do what I say,” she teased. He smiled and pulled out the chair beside Libby, although he didn’t look in her direction.
She’d upset him, she could tell. Libby didn’t want to hurt him again, and seeing him pull away from her—even subtly—made her tense. They’d been doing so well. They’d been able to enjoy each other without their history coming up. It was there, though, and she knew they both were aware of it. She shouldn’t have snapped at him.
Pop came not long after Helen and plopped down beside his daughter. “This looks like a fine bunch. How’s everyone? Pete, don’t look like you just lost your puppy, young man. Perk up!”
“Can we save a place for my mom?” Libby asked, looking down at her phone to be sure she hadn’t texted again. “She’s on her way.”
“Of course!” Helen said, her bright smile etching very fine lines around her eyes.
Pete was looking out over the bay. Everyone was taking their seats and settling in with the people around them. Libby leaned toward the table as if attempting to view what Pete was seeing, but really just trying to get his attention. She felt awful for snapping at him. Being there, she was so unhappy, and it made her do and say things she shouldn’t. She could hear Jeanie making small talk with Helen, but she wasn’t listening to their words. She was hoping Pete would turn toward her, hoping he’d forgive her yet again for her actions.
“There’s this diner where I like to go and have coffee,” she said, bumping him with her shoulder. He turned around and looked at her. “The diner, it has just regular coffee, the kind you would brew at home, and white mugs. It doesn’t have anything special and the food isn’t great, but it has a window that overlooks a busy side street, and I love to watch all the faces walk past me. I wonder about them: who they are, where they’re going.”
The sun illuminated the gold flecks in the green of Pete’s eyes as he continued to look at her. He was clearly waiting for some explanation of why she’d chosen to tell him this.
“I’m not high and mighty all the time like you think I am. I enjoy the pace of the city, certainly, but I like to take time out and enjoy what’s around me too. Relaxing doesn’t come as easily for me as it does for you—I’ve been raised to do without it. But sometimes I do want to relax a bit. I’d love nothing more than to be around people I love, a family. Just like you. It just doesn’t show all the time. I need a little practice loosening up.” She nudged him again, smiling.
He nodded, his lips pursed in thought. “I remember teaching a young girl to hit balls out at the ball field because she’d never learned to play. You always wanted to play, Libby, you just didn’t know how. You’d let me show you, and it was easy. That person in the diner doesn’t seem very different from the girl I knew. Although I will say that this immaculately dressed businesswoman is quite a change.” A man brought by two plates of lobster and set them in front of Pop and Helen. “Makes me wonder if the change is more on the outside than on the inside, but if it’s loosening up you need, you’ve come to the right place.”
“Sorry I’m late!” Celia Potter shuffled over, set a gift bag from the boutique down the street onto the table, and sat down next to Libby. “Hi, honey!” she said, slightly out of breath, as she kissed her cheek. With a quick wave, she acknowledged the others at the table before turning to Helen. “Hi, Helen! Happy birthday!” She pushed the bag toward her.
Helen had always been gracious about Celia Potter, and Libby wondered if it was because she knew what it was like to raise a child by herself. No matter how Celia behaved, Helen always knew just what to say. “Thank you, Celia! You didn’t have to get me anything. I think this is grand enough,” she raised her hands in the air, gesturing at the tables around her.
“Oh, it’s your birthday! You deserve something special.”
Helen pulled the pink-and-white-striped gift bag toward her and peeked inside. She retrieved a small, gray box with swoopy lettering. A silver bangle bracelet was nestled inside. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Celia. Thank you,” she said, slipping it on. The caterers finished handing out the plates of food as Ryan stood up from the table behind Helen and tapped his glass with a butter knife.
“I’d like to propose a quick toast—nothing elaborate—to my mother, who has always been there for us. Mom,” he turned to her. She looked up at him with doting eyes, “I love you so much. I am so blessed to have you
as my mother. Here’s to family! Happy birthday.” He raised his glass. As Libby raised hers, she couldn’t help but think about what kind of toast she would give her own mother. Certainly, she could give a heartfelt toast for Helen or Jeanie, but what she would say about Celia Potter was a mystery. Looking at Celia right then, however, she saw her smiling, the way her eyes twinkled as she watched Jeanie tell a story, and she felt happy for her. Like Libby, maybe she too needed to be taught how to loosen up. As she thought this, it made Libby wish for more time to show her how happy she could be.
Everyone took a drink. The guitar played underneath the chitchat of the guests as they all started eating. The flickering of the candles on the ground, the swishing of the waves in the bay, and the warm breeze made her feel like an outsider, out of place. As she looked at the family gathered around her, she realized, as they talked, that they had shared memories, funny stories, good times together. When she thought of her own mother, her memories were those of emotional survival, determination and hard work. Her mother had taught her a lot, but they hadn’t really just enjoyed themselves together. For thirty years, she’d missed out on those types of memories with her mother.
Libby knew she had that interview request sitting in her inbox, waiting for her to respond. She had a possible way out. Celia had never had that opportunity. Libby thought about how terrible she’d felt coming back, and she realized that Celia had lived that from the time she was a young lady until now. She’d never gotten out, never gotten away. How sad her mother must feel. Celia probably felt just as isolated as Libby.
“Miss Libby,” Pop said from across the table. “Tell us about working for Marty. How’s the new job?” Pete stood up, excusing himself from the table, exposing her even more. Now she didn’t even have the physical comfort of being situated between two bodies.
“Um…” All eyes were on her, including her mother’s. Panic tingled around inside her as she realized that she’d have to ensure that her mother would be pleased with what she said. How could she spin the experience into something positive? Perhaps she could say that Marty was like a mentor for her, showing her how to run a firm so that she could have the experience for future opportunities. Libby ran the words through her head just to be sure, scrambling for the perfect response.