Reunion Beach

by Elin Hilderbrand

  Before the girl can respond, Jocasta answers for her, cloyingly sweet. “Monique prefers to be called Nanny when at work. Don’t you, dear?”

  “It’s fine,” Monique says obediently, without raising her eyes from the task of spooning baby food into Adeline’s eager little mouth. There’s no mistaking the gotcha! look Jocasta gives Nellie Bee, and I fear my sister-in-law has erred by poking a stick in the dragon’s lair. My intention is to stay out of her way as much as possible.

  As if to lighten the tension, Michael says to Bram, “It’s like the folks you employ referring to you as Chef. Right, Dad?”

  His point’s well-taken, but Nellie Bee can’t let it go. Turning her head to me, she says sarcastically, “And like your clients calling you Psychologist, Chris. Charlie always refers to himself as Lawyer. Why, most of them don’t even know his real name.”

  She’s gone too far, and Bram gives her a warning look. We’re saved from having it go further when Adeline begins to cry. Holding up the empty bowl, Nanny turns to Missy and says, “Where is her food, please?”

  “She’s had plenty,” Missy snaps. I dare to meet Bram’s eyes, which flash with anger.

  “Surely it wouldn’t hurt for her to have a little more,” Michael suggests to his wife, who gives him a dirty look.

  “You know that specialist I consulted laid out exactly how much she could consume without putting on extra weight,” she tells him haughtily, over the piteous wails of her daughter.

  “And I agree with him,” Jocasta says with a smile of approval for her daughter-in-law. “Adeline’s too petite to overfeed. Remember that obesity starts in childhood.”

  “There’s not a chance in hell that child will ever be obese,” Bram says curtly as he wads up his napkin and throws it into the basket.

  “Amen to that,” Nellie Bee whispers to me. “Poor little thing’s destined to be skinny as a rail and obsessed with her weight, just like her mama and grandmother.”

  Despite all Nanny does to distract her, Adeline keeps fretting. Finally Bram gives Missy his laser-sharp glare that I’ve seen frighten grown men into submission. “Either you feed that child or I will,” he says between clenched teeth.

  Her face flushed, Missy sighs mightily and motions Nanny toward the diaper bag. “There’s a banana in there. You may give her some of it. But mash it up and don’t give her but a little bit!”

  During the awkward silence that follows, I glance down at my plate and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Bram? Didn’t you tell me that you added something new in the deviled eggs? I’m thinking tarragon. Right?”

  He grins and stuffs one in his mouth, chewing happily. “You got it, sweetheart.” Looking around, he asks the others, “What’d you think? Is it a keeper?”

  I realize too late that my attempt to change the subject should’ve been about anything but food. While Michael, Nellie Bee, and I piled our plates high, Jocasta and Missy took only a few marinated veggies—very few. Michael helps out by gobbling down a couple of deviled eggs and giving his dad a thumbs-up. Nellie Bee agrees, and we finish eating in silence. I glance over to see how the baby’s doing, then hide a smile to see the whole banana gone. Nanny meets my eye and gives me a wink.

  After the fruit tarts have disappeared—thanks to me, Michael, and Nellie Bee—we put away the picnic stuff with sighs of contentment. Even better, Nanny’s taken Adeline into her arms and rocked her until she dozed off. Adeline smiles in her sleep, dreaming of banana.

  I suggest that Bram give us a run-through of what to expect when the production crew arrives. With a nod, he begins to walk us through the procedure. Fortunately the others quickly become engrossed in the details of the filming, and the tension over the baby is gone. At one point during Bram’s narrative Jocasta interrupts with a joyful clap of her hands. “Oh, Bram—you didn’t tell me that Steve will be directing! Nothing could please me more. I always loved watching him at work. Such a dedicated professional.”

  Bram agrees. “Yeah, I insisted on Steve. You remember his partner Rick?”

  “Of course I do.” Jocasta smiles up at him, eyes shining. “Who could forget Rick, the best-looking man I’ve ever seen.”

  “Oh, thanks a lot, Mom,” Michael jokes, and Jocasta throws her head back to laugh.

  “Except for you and your father, of course.” She turns her adoring gaze to Bram, and Nellie Bee again nudges me with her foot. “I hope Rick’s coming, too?” Jocasta says.

  “I forgot to ask,” Bram admits, and Jocasta lays a hand on his arm with a groan.

  “Some things never change,” she purrs. “Remember the time you forgot Michael and left him at the studio?”

  “No way, Dad!” Michael cries, laughing. “Did you hear that, Missy? Bet your parents never forgot you.”

  “Of course not,” Missy giggles. Evidently she’s forgiven her father-in-law for embarrassing her, and she joins in their reminiscences. Nellie Bee leans toward me to whisper, “If they keep this up much longer, I’ll puke.” Oblivious, the four of them—Bram, Jocasta, Michael, and Missy—laugh and talk together, seeming to forget everything else: not just the other picnickers but also the sea, the sand, and the sun hanging high overhead. Finally Nellie Bee can take no more, and she stands abruptly to say, “I hate to break up this happy family reunion, but I’ve got to go.”

  Bram flushes as he stumbles to his feet to bid his sister good-bye. He glances at me apologetically, and I give back a look of reassurance. I expected some reminiscing and had braced myself for it. But I hope my look also conveys another message: I’ll tolerate a little, but don’t push your luck, buster.

  * * *

  The big day of filming is on us, and I find myself surprisingly nervous. I’m anxious about being on TV, too, after assuring Bram I wouldn’t be. But that was before the lights and cameras were set up in our house, and before the production crew arrived. What had been an upcoming event is suddenly real in a way it hasn’t been before. As we dress for breakfast, I sink down on the bed, clad in my bra and panties, and tell Bram I don’t think I can do this.

  Frowning, he comes out of the bathroom smelling of aftershave and looking spiffier than usual, his wet hair slicked back. He sits beside me on the bed and takes my hand. “Sweetheart, listen to me, I’m an old hand at this, and I can help you.”

  I look up at him expectantly and he says, “It’s only natural to be scared your first time on camera. But this surefire tip works like a charm.” Leaning close, he whispers, “Put some clothes on.”

  I punch his arm, smiling, and realize that his joking around is just what I need to get through this. It’s been lacking these past few days. Instead we’ve all been on edge. Tempers have flared and harsh words spoken. I adored the producer Steve on sight, but he’s a tough taskmaster. Although he’s walked us through everything several times, the show will be filmed live, he tells us. An audience doesn’t respond as well to a staged performance. Although Steve makes sure we know what’s going to happen when, he refuses to allow any rehearsing of the scenes, saying it kills the spontaneity. Hearing this yesterday, I’d gone to Bram in a panic. Although I knew his shows were filmed live, it hadn’t occurred to me this one would be. I’d assumed we’d be put in place and told what to say. If we messed up, they’d film it over until we got it right. Bram laughed at my naivety.

  What we’ve done the past two days has been more tedious than nerve-racking. The crew had to determine what time of day the light’s right for the beach walk. The biggest scene, which would be filmed in the house, isn’t as crucial, lighting-wise. As if we were mannikins, they put us in place then peered through the cameras at us. After this went on for hours, I realized why Jocasta had brought Nanny, and felt guilty (though only a tad) for assuming it’d been to show off. After much conferring, Steve decided to include Adeline on the beach walk but not the dinner. Too risky that she’d be sleepy and cranky. I’d breathed a sigh of relief. Tension was again running high between Bram and Missy, with Michael torn between them. Ano
ther fight could be a disaster.

  To avoid so much running back and forth, a shifting of quarters took place that I didn’t know about until afterward. Nanny moved into the bunkbed room next to Michael and Missy. No problem there; what takes me by surprise is finding Jocasta in the guest room across from Bram’s office. After taking his advice and putting my clothes on, I’m heading to breakfast when I hear a noise in the guest room. Curious, I stick my head in. To my surprise, Jocasta sits at the vanity applying makeup. I see her suitcase open and clothes strewn across the bed. Turning her head, she eyes me smugly. “Bram thought it’d be easier for me to be here,” she purrs. “Surely he told you.” I mutter something inane and scurry out.

  Midday, cast and crew gather in the dining room before the filming of the beach walk. Bram has laid out sandwiches and various finger food, but everyone’s too geared up to eat much. Thankfully there’s a kitchen crew, who’ll clean up and prep for the evening meal. Between bites of a fish sandwich, Steve gathers us together and goes through everything once again. Late afternoon, we’ll all head to the beach for the sunset walk, where Nellie Bee and Charlie will meet us. Then we’ll return here to change clothes. After they film Bram in the kitchen, we’ll get into place for dinner. Piece of cake, he assures us. But for now, the cast should go to our rooms and rest. He wants us bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for our big moment.

  In our bedroom, I’m too wound up to rest. And it’s not just the “big moment.” Although I saw Bram after lunch, long enough to tell him I was heading up for a nap, we haven’t had a chance to talk. I can’t pretend that Jocasta staying here—in our house—doesn’t bother me. He’s got a good excuse for forgetting to tell me, granted, but that’s not what troubles me. It’s Jocasta’s too-obvious pleasure that I didn’t know. It feels underhanded on Bram’s part, somehow, as if he sneaked her in and figured I wouldn’t notice. I’d love to talk to Nellie Bee, who’d understand my turmoil, but I dare not. I can’t risk her confronting Bram. Not today.

  Nellie Bee! I’d forgotten that after the beach walk, she and Charlie are coming here to change, and I’d planned on putting them in the guest room. She’ll find out about Jocasta then, and all hell’s liable to break loose. Unless . . . It hits me that I have no choice. Nellie Bee and Charlie will have to use my office, and I’ll pretend it was my idea to put Jocasta in the guest room. Nellie Bee won’t be happy with me, but I’ll explain later. Just getting through this day is the only thing now.

  There’s a daybed in my office where Nellie Bee and Charlie can lay out their clothes, so I start downstairs to clear it off. Mainly I pile papers on it. Just like earlier, I’ve reached the stairs when I hear sounds from the guest room. But this time, it’s voices I hear. And one of them is Bram’s.

  Standing outside the guest room door, I hesitate, wondering what to say to him. I heard you and want to know what the hell you’re doing in there? I can only imagine how Jocasta would love that. But nothing could be going on, could it, with me right down the hall? Or does Bram think because I’m resting, with the shades pulled and the fan going, it’d be the perfect chance to sneak into her room? It’s so preposterous that I shake it off and raise my hand to knock. And that’s when I hear him. “Don’t worry,” he says in the melodious voice that I love so much, the one that weakens my knees. “She doesn’t know I’m here. She’s napping.”

  I freeze, stunned, before lowering my clenched hand. I can hear Jocasta’s soft murmurs but not what she says—except for the one word that might as well be a shout: “Bram.” It’s spoken with so much longing that I want to run back to the safety of my room. But I’m unable to move—especially after I hear Bram’s low chuckle, a sound that tears me apart. Jocasta’s soft, seductive laugh in response is a further stab to my heart. Whatever he says to her next is so low and muffled I can’t tell what it is, which is a blessing. How could I bear to hear my husband saying the sweet words of love he’d whispered to me only a few nights ago, before she came here and changed everything? Stifling a sob, I turn away. But I don’t go back down the hall to the room I share with Bram. Instead I continue down the stairs to my office. My movements are robotic. Unblinking, I clear papers from the daybed and file them methodically away.

  The obsessive-compulsive nature that drives me crazy at times serves me well now, carrying me through the rest of the afternoon. Finished in my office, I go back upstairs to dress for the beach walk. Wear something fun, Steve’d said, and I pull on white shorts and a bright aqua tee with a dolphin on it. On the bed I lay out Bram’s choice, khaki shorts and denim shirt. I’m tying my hair back when he comes in, careful to close the door quietly. “Oh!” he says with a start, seeing me at the dresser. “I thought you were asleep.”

  You sure did, I think, but say nothing. I’m not sure I can without bursting into tears. But I won’t cry. I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing my pain—Jocasta or Bram, either one. Seeing his clothes on the bed, Bram says, “Thanks, sweetheart,” before coming over to give me a kiss on the cheek. I flinch but he doesn’t notice. Her perfume is faint on the collar of his shirt, and when he pulls it over his head, I clear my throat and say, “You might want to shower.”

  Frowning, he tosses his shirt aside. “Not till after the beach. But don’t worry, I’ll be quick because I gotta get to the kitchen. Then you’ll have plenty of time to primp.”

  I can’t get to the door without walking past him, and he takes my arm to smile down at me. “Relax, baby. It’ll be over before you know it. I promise.”

  “Yeah,” I say as I pull away and walk out the door. That’s what I’m afraid of.

  The filming of the beach walk goes so smoothly that everyone’s jubilant afterward. The crew applauds us, and Steve swears that we’re a bunch of pros. I went through the motions, smiling and chatting just like Steve’d told us to do. They’re using a voice-over for this part, so it didn’t matter what we said. With the camera crew walking backwards several steps in front of us, Bram and I lead off, hands clasped. If he noticed my trembling hands, my halting steps, he gave no sign. Michael and Missy were behind us, with Adeline in her father’s arms. Behind them came Nellie Bee, Charlie, and Jocasta. Nellie Bee had refused to stand beside Jocasta and made Charlie walk between them.

  Holding his hands up like Moses on the mountain, Steve gathers us around for a final pep talk. It’s a family dinner, he says, not red carpet night at the Oscars. No posing and posturing; just relax and enjoy a great meal with our dearly beloved. “And for God’s sake,” he bellows, “make a big deal over the food. Some of you eat like little birds but not tonight. Tonight, you’re ravenous wolves!”

  * * *

  I’m seated at one end of the table with Bram at the other, so we have to face each other the entire time. As hard as I’ve tried to hide my distress, I can tell that he’s picked up on it. I catch him eyeing me in concern, his eyes troubled. Just get through this, I tell myself. As I’d feared, Nellie Bee was furious to find Jocasta in the guest room I’d promised them. Thankfully, she blamed Jocasta instead of me, assuming she’d invited herself and I’d allowed it rather than cause a ruckus. Having Nellie Bee turn on me now would’ve been more than I could take. But she, too, has picked up on the pain beneath my fake smiles. Just nervous, I told her when she demanded to know what the hell was wrong with me. I could tell she didn’t buy it. Like her brother, she watches me warily.

  Steve’s noted the animosity between Bram’s ex-wife and his sister and wisely placed poor Charlie between them again. Across from them, Michael’s seated next to me with Missy closer to Bram. In stark contrast to me and Nellie Bee, Missy and Jocasta are dressed to the hilt. Wanting color, Steve had insisted on approving our outfits, even Bram and Charlie’s shirts. I chose a simple linen top of sage-green with cropped pants, and Nellie Bee a similar outfit in bright blue. Missy’s stylish dress is patterned with sunflowers, but Jocasta steals the show in a stunning coral sheath with a plunging neckline. Despite my despondency, I hide a smile every time Charlie peers over hi
s glasses to steal a glance at his dinner partner’s décolletage.

  Once the first course is on the table, Steve gives the go-ahead and the filming begins. We’ve been warned not to look at the cameras or the high-reaching lights around the table, which are hot and blinding. Bram begins with a blessing, asking us to join hands as he offers thanks. Jocasta’s on one side of me and Michael the other; I give Michael’s hand a squeeze but barely touch his mother’s cool, slender fingers, yanking my own away as soon as the amens are said. She throws me a knowing smirk.

  Bram introduces the crab bisque by describing how he dropped a crab trap into a nearby deep-water creek to gather the crab. Everyone oohs and ahhs while we try to muffle our slurps. The sous chef removes our bowls and serves shrimp salad as the next course. For the benefit of the unseen audience, Bram explains how to cast a shrimp net, even getting to his feet to demonstrate the dance-like motions. I try not to glance his way but can’t help myself; his showmanship draws me in as it did the first time we met. And why had I insisted he wear the dark-green shirt that makes his eyes like emeralds? As he takes his seat, he gives me a smile, but I quickly look down.

  The presentation and discussion of each of the courses carries us through the meal. As our main dish of grilled flounder served with tomato gratin is brought out, Bram goes around to pour the special wine he’s selected to complement it, a lovely Sancerre. We’ve had a different wine with each course, and I’ve already had way more than I usually drink with dinner. Not to mention the cocktails we’d had beforehand. To calm our nerves, all of us are drinking a lot. Everyone keeps gulping it down and holding up their glasses for more.

  When Bram gets to my chair, he lays his hand on my shoulder and leans in close to pour the wine. “It’s not nerves that’s bothering you, is it?” he says quietly. It’s that deadly beautiful voice of his that gets me, and I swallow painfully. “Christina?” he says. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was genuine concern. Afraid the cameras might catch our exchange, I force a smile. “I’m fine,” I murmur back.