by Blake Pierce
Ian added, “And you know what a productive, prosperous, and happy merger my parents’ marriage has been.”
London didn’t know anything of the kind. During the few times when she’d met Ian’s parents, she’d found them to be robotically distant—not just to her, but to everybody, including each other. To London, Ian’s family home had felt like a scene from the original version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, when everyone got turned into fake-human pod people.
Ian looked upward meditatively.
“I think, now that the second quarter is ending, and mortgage rates are at a historic low, it’s a good time to put down a payment on a house …”
London shuddered deeply.
“We’ll be frugal, especially at first,” he said. “We’ll live below our means, in the same neighborhood with Tia and Bernard. That’s right near a good school. We’ll buy a ranch-style house. No stairs, so we won’t have to move again for fifty years. We’ll have one child in two years, then another two years later, and another two years after that …”
Three children? London thought.
She’d seldom given much thought to having children at all. They had always been a distant possibility, never a scheduled priority.
“We should seize this moment,” he continued. “This is a great time to open college accounts and start layaway plans. We can also decide what schools the kids will go to, starting with kindergarten and continuing all the way through college.”
He scratched his chin thoughtfully.
“We’re both in excellent health, I’m sure we’ll be able to enjoy life well into our nineties.”
London shuddered as she tried to imagine all those decades of meticulously weighed and measured bliss. She hoped he hadn’t already picked out a cemetery plot and a tombstone. Fortunately, his monologue faded away before he could start talking about what they might say on their deathbeds. He was sweating even more than before, and he looked like he’d just run a mile or so.
He spoke a little hoarsely now.
“London … I guess what I’m trying to say is … I’d be deeply honored if you accepted this …”
“Merger?” London asked.
He smiled and shrugged and nodded, apparently speechless.
“Um, Ian … what just happened? Did you just … pop the question?”
Ian squinted thoughtfully.
“Why, yes. ‘Pop the question’ might be the right way to put it.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a little black box and opened it.
Inside, of course, was a diamond ring.
“London Rose, will you … merge your life with mine?”
As London felt the world swimming around her, the waiter returned to their table with two crystal snifters of cognac. Ian started to raise his glass in a toast. But unable to help herself, London took an ungracefully large swallow. She figured she was going to need at least one more cognac before the evening was over.
Meanwhile …
What on earth am I going to say?
CHAPTER TWO
The explosions nearly drowned out Tia’s voice.
“You told him what?” London’s sister demanded, almost yelling to be heard over the noise her kids were making.
“I told him I’d think about it.” London raised her own voice in reply.
“What’s there to think about? Ian is perfect for you!”
Arguing with her older sister often felt to London like arguing with a mirror, seeing a reflection not of herself but of how she might someday be. Tia’s similar features carried just a bit more of a frown, her figure carried a few more pounds, and her darker hair fell stylishly straight.
London didn’t bother to suppress an audible sigh of despair. It would never be heard over the racket going on in the nearby family room. Tia’s two daughters, ten-year-old Stella and twelve-year-old Margie, were blowing things up in the war game they were playing on the TV.
At least they’re not falling into gender stereotypes, London thought.
All the same, she had to admit that princess costumes and Barbie dolls and tea parties would keep things a whole lot quieter around here.
It was the morning after that awkward dinner with Ian. As she often did, London was staying with her sister during a break between ocean voyages. This time, she was already worrying about where she would live if there was no new assignment coming up. Would she have to give up hotels and her sister’s guest room and find a place of her own?
Or will I … ?
After all, the Ian option was still open.
In the midst of the household chaos, Tia had managed to make a huge plate of ragged-looking pancakes. A chaotic breakfast with the kids had just come to an end, and the two girls had stampeded into the family room.
This was the sisters’ first real chance to talk this morning, and Tia was not taking the news of London’s indecision at all well. Now as London picked at the remaining syrupy scraps on her plate, Tia popped up from her chair and started clattering around the kitchen.
“I’ll do that for you,” London called. “Just give me a minute.” Through some feat of domestic black magic, the sink and countertops seemed to be full of more dirty dishes than the washer could possibly contain.
“Oh, I’m used to taking care of it,” Tia chirped. “You just finish your breakfast. This all becomes automatic after a few years.”
They were both trying to avoid noticing Tia’s seven-year-old towheaded son, Bret, who was standing beside the table staring silently at London.
“What else did you tell him?” Tia asked as she whirled by, grabbing some dirty dishes that had somehow wound up on a kitchen chair.
What did I tell him? London wondered. She gazed around the room, still ignoring the silent boy.
It was hard to remember exactly. Last night seemed like kind of a blur. London wondered whether she’d actually gone into a state of shock after Ian had proposed to her.
“I think … I told him … I was very …”
Tia’s eyes widened while London searched for the exact word she’d used.
“Oh, no, London. Do not tell me you said you were ‘flattered.’ That would be wrong on so many levels. ‘Flattered’ would suggest that you doubted Ian’s sincerity. And on top of his many other virtues, Ian is sincerity itself.”
London thought sincerity seemed an odd word for it but …
He was sincere, in his way.
Anyway, London agreed with Tia about the word “flattered.” No matter how stunned she’d been at the time, surely she hadn’t said she was “flattered.”
“I think … I said … I was touched.”
“‘Touched’?” Tia said, snatching up some forks that seemed to have magically appeared on the floor. “You said you were ‘touched’? What’s that even supposed to mean, anyway? ‘Touched in the head,’ maybe?”
London shrugged.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Just ‘touched,’ that’s all.”
“What about thrilled? Delighted? Honored?”
The way London remembered it, “thrilled” and “delighted” were hardly the adjectives to describe how she’d actually felt. As far as “honored” was concerned, it wasn’t completely inaccurate. She had actually taken it as compliment that a guy as thoroughly solid as Ian wanted to include her in his precise and elaborate plans. But “honored” would have sounded so … what, exactly?
Victorian, maybe.
The very idea of a proposal was too old-fashioned for London’s disposition. But at least Ian hadn’t gotten down on one knee and whipped out the expensive ring. After all the business talk, her nerves might not have been able to take that.
Tia opened her mouth to scold London some more, then winced at the sound of an especially loud bang.
She called out, “Girls, that’s enough of whatever war you’ve been fighting.”
Stella and Margie whined loudly in near unison.
“Awww, Mo-o-mmm …”
“Aunt London
and I are trying to talk,” Tia added. “And we can’t even hear ourselves think.”
The girls obediently shut down their game, but London knew better than to hope for any enduring peace and quiet. She felt a chill run up her spine, and realized that eerie wide-eyed stare from little Bret was getting to her. She couldn’t help thinking he looked like a kid from another old science-fiction movie, The Village of the Damned.
In fact, all of Tia’s children looked to her as though they, like the alien spawn in the movie, could make walls melt with their minds if they really tried. They had all inherited their father’s bland blondness.
Abandoning the clutter that remained in the kitchen, Tia poured fresh coffee into their cups and sat down across from London.
“Adults are talking, sweetie,” Tia said to Bret.
“OK,” Bret said.
He didn’t move.
“That means you’re supposed to leave, sweetie,” Tia said to him.
He looked at her as if she’d snatched away a favorite toy.
“But I hardly ever get to see Aunt London,” he said. “She’s always away, going somewhere really far off.”
London felt a stab of guilt.
He really misses me, she thought.
The fact that the feeling wasn’t exactly mutual added to her pangs of conscience.
“Aunt London comes around whenever she can, sweetie,” Tia said, tossing London a look of disapproval. “She visits us several times a year.”
Bret still didn’t move.
Staring at London with rapt admiration, he said, “My friends think it’s cool that my aunt is the captain of a ship.”
Tia patted Bret on the head.
“Uh, Bret, Aunt London isn’t exactly a captain,” she said.
“What is she then? A sailor?”
London could tell from Tia’s expression that she’d momentarily forgotten her actual job title.
“I’m what’s called a ‘hostess,’ hon,” London said to Bret.
“Like when Mom throws a party?”
London shrugged and said, “Well, yeah, kind of.”
“With presents and everything?”
London had no idea what to say. How could she explain to a seven-year-old the intricacies of working as a hostess on a gigantic cruise ship? Every day involved scores of logistical challenges and almost nonstop one-on-one human contact. It was up to her to organize and oversee games of shuffleboard, table tennis, and bridge, as well as birthday parties, dining activities, concerts, and much, much more. Her job was to help make sure that everything went perfectly, and she was good at her job.
And then there’s the fresh air, she thought with a twinge of melancholy.
On most mornings when she stepped out on deck, London enjoyed the ocean air. Although Connecticut could be pleasant this time of year, she hadn’t even been able to get outside yet. She briefly wondered why the kids were still inside the house on what appeared to be a nice day. Hadn’t her sister once said she’d chosen to live in the suburbs because they’d have big back yards and parks?
Tia patted her son on the head again. He still didn’t move from the spot.
“Adults are talking, sweetie,” she repeated.
“OK.”
This time Bret turned around and wandered away. At that very moment, the two girls almost ran the little boy down as they came charging into the kitchen trying to cut each other to ribbons with Star Wars–style LED light sabers. Bret let out a yell and grabbed futilely at one of their weapons.
This time, Tia simply ignored all of them.
It was a lost cause, after all, London realized. As soon as Tia quelled any racket in this house, a louder racket would spring up right under both of their noses.
“What about the ring?” Tia asked over the renewed burst of noise.
“What about it?” London said, not exactly understanding the question.
“Is it nice?”
“I suppose. Pretty. Expensive. Diamonds and all.”
“Well, show it to me,” Tia said.
“I don’t have it.”
Tia shuddered from head to toe. She let out a little scream of sheer horror.
“Oh, no! You threw it away?”
Both girls stopped swinging their sabers long enough to demand, almost in unison, “You threw the ring away?”
“No eavesdropping,” Tia snapped. “Back into the family room. Your aunt and I need a chance to talk.
When the girls didn’t budge, she added, “I’ll tell you all about it later.”
Giggling, the girls trotted out of the kitchen with the boy close behind.
When they were gone, London explained, “I didn’t accept it. I haven’t decided whether to marry him.”
Tia slapped the table with her palm.
“Then let me decide for you. We’ll get him on the phone right now.”
“Tia, no,” London said.
But Tia kept talking as if she hadn’t said a word.
“You’ll tell him you were a dope last night, and you’ll apologize profusely, and you’ll explain that it was just a fit of temporary insanity, and tell him yes, yes, yes over and over again, and then you’ll ask when is a convenient time for you to see him again and you’ll give him a big kiss and presumably fall into bed with him. Let’s get him on the phone.”
“No.”
Tia’s lower lip began to jut ominously.
Oh, no. She’s going to pout.
“I take this personally, London,” she said.
Of course you do, London thought.
Tia continued, “And I’m sure Bernard is going to feel the same way. Have you forgotten we introduced you to Ian?”
No, I haven’t forgotten.
Tia went on, “Don’t you remember what a basket case you were after you broke up with that jerk Albert?”
Of course I remember.
And at the time, London had felt deeply grateful to Tia and her husband, Bernard, for fixing her up with such a regular, steady, pleasant guy. It had seemed like exactly what she’d needed after dating an unpredictable sociopath.
Bernard was a partner in Ian’s CPA business. In fact, Bernard and Ian were best friends. Bernard had gone golfing this morning, and now it occurred to London that he and Ian might well be out on the course together. Would they be discussing Ian’s plans for London?
No, she thought. More likely long-term interest rates.
Tia’s lower lip was trembling now.
“This is hurtful, London,” she said.
London wished she could shrivel up into a self-protective ball like an armadillo. Her older sister’s capacity to put her on guilt trips had always been uncanny.
Tia continued, “All Bernard and I wanted was for you to have the same happiness that we did. I feel like we both deserve it, you and I, after the childhood you and I survived.”
Oh, please don’t go there, London thought.
“Our parents raised us just fine,” London said.
“Well, it wasn’t exactly stable.”
London was relieved when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get that,” Tia yelled as she jumped up and hurried off to answer it.
London sat staring at her coffee for a blissful moment while all the noise was in the background. She noticed that an assortment of toys seemed to have materialized out of nowhere on the tabletop, but she decided to ignore them.
Thinking about Tia’s words, London had to admit that their childhood had not been stable. Being raised by two flight attendants meant living with a lot of disruption and moving around. But London had always had a greater tolerance for instability than her sister had—and a greater sense of adventure.
Even when she and Tia had been kids and their father had come out as gay, London had seen it as an exciting transition in all their lives. Her parents hadn’t divorced, and the whole family had continued to live under one roof, as cheerfully as ever. And both Mom and Dad kept right on being good role models.
But their happy fami
ly hadn’t lasted forever. When London and Tia were in their early teens, their mother had decided to go on a European tour on her own.
She’d never come back.
Nobody had any idea what had happened to her.
There had been no sign of foul play. She had apparently just walked away and taken off on her own. London had believed that something terrible must have happened to her, but Tia always said …
“I guess she wasn’t as happy as she made herself out to be.”
That wasn’t a question that London liked to think about. As an adult, she had avoided the whole issue by limiting her assignments to Caribbean cruise routes.
Tia came back and sat down across from her.
“It was just the yard man with a question,” Tia informed her. “Now where were we?”
She was gazing at London with a hurt expression on her face, almost like she might start crying.
“I’ve always tried to be a good big sister, London,” Tia said. “Haven’t I succeeded at that?”
“Of course you have,” London said.
“Then why can’t you follow my example? Look around you. This is a good life, London. What Bernard and I have here with the kids and our friends and neighbors is good. It’s real. You can’t go escaping all over the world for the rest of your life. Life means responsibilities and commitment. And those are wonderful things. Those are rewarding things. Surely you can see that.”
London flinched as the roar of a lawnmower started up outside the kitchen window.
Tia took a sip of coffee, then calmly continued her argument.
“The best thing,” Tia was saying, “is that you and Ian can settle down right here in this neighborhood, maybe even just down the block.”
London’s felt a twinge of déjà vu at those words.
Then she remembered something Ian had said last night.
“We’ll live below our means, in the same neighborhood with Tia and Bernard.”
She almost gasped aloud.
Have Tia and Ian been conspiring together?
Is Bernard in on it too?
She cautioned herself not to get paranoid. Nevertheless, one thing seemed perfectly clear. Ian, Tia, and probably Bernard were on the same wavelength and had the same intentions toward her. If she married Ian, she would wind up right here in every sense.