I leave Mattie with Rose and hurry to the restaurant. As I turn onto Simonton Street I nearly collide with a woman leaving a salon. She’s wearing shorts and flip-flops, but her hair is swept up elegantly and topped with a veil. Another bride, doing a dry run for her big day. She looks so happy.
My phone rings. I answer. “Yo, dawg!”
“Lily?” Jane says. “I need a favor.”
“For you, mon cherie? Anything.”
“I take it you haven’t changed your mind about the wedding?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“We suffer under a collective delusion that you might someday do something sensible.”
“Ha! When pigs freeze over. When hell flies.”
“Indeed,” Jane says drily. “Now please listen carefully. Two couples are coming to the wedding. They’re friends of mine. The Gortons and the Heydriches. They need to be seated at separate tables.”
“Uh-oh! Who bonked who?”
“Whom,” she corrects me, then hesitates. “Donald Heydrich and Mitzy Gorton.”
“No!” I cry. “Not Donald and Mitzy!”
I actually have no idea who these people are. I don’t know half the people my parents have invited to the wedding.
Jane sighs. “I’m afraid so.”
“You run with a fast crowd, Janey. Hey, that reminds me. Are the swingers coming?”
“As I’ve told you numerous times, Bob and Gloria are not swingers,” she says sternly. “It’s a vicious rumor started by that insufferable Sloane Kittredge.”
“I hope so. I’m trying to run a clean family wedding here.”
“Have you been drinking?” she demands.
“Oh, Jane!” I laugh uproariously. “The very thought!”
“Let me finish, please. The worst is over now, thank God. It was all so tiresome—the tears, the recriminations.” Jane sighs again, and I can just picture her, reclining on the sofa at Gran’s house, hair fanned out on the pillows. Admiring the rings on her fingers, looking down her long, elegant nose at these naive little people and their tedious tantrums. When I first met Jane, I thought of her as the Snow Queen—the beautiful fairy-tale bitch who steals children and makes them forget their friends and family. I thought she was deliberately wrenching me away from Ana, but of course that’s not what she was after at all. Eventually, she became fascinating to me—I’d never met another woman like her, so urbane and knowledgeable about things I’d never taken an interest in: power and money and beauty and relationships between men and women.
“You would have thought it was the end of the world, instead of some silly fling,” she continues.
“People can be so dramatic,” I agree.
“Now, their spouses have forgiven them, and everyone is moving on. Nevertheless, I promised that I would do my best to minimize contact among them this weekend. Can you help me?”
“No problemo.”
“Of course, the entire issue is moot if you—”
“The wedding is happening, Janey. I’m not changing my mind.”
“But Lily darling, think of—”
I’ve had enough of this for one morning. I hang up and turn onto Duval, where the heavy foot traffic slows me down. There’s a middle-aged couple walking ahead of me. They’re daytrippers off one of the big cruise ships. He’s wearing a Cubs hat, a camera slung around his neck. She’s got one of those no-nonsense midwestern haircuts. They’re fighting. I can tell. Walking side by side, but with six inches of militarized distance between them. Not speaking, not touching, not looking at each other. They should be enjoying themselves. They’re on vacation, for God’s sake!
I bet Mitzy and her husband had ragingly hot morning sex at first. I bet Donald couldn’t get enough of his wife in the early years. These two ahead of me? Probably went at it like bunnies during those first heady days in Milwaukee or wherever. So what happens? Time passes. Boredom grows. The pressures and routines of daily life flatten the romance. And one night, after a few too many glasses of chardonnay at some fancy shindig, Mitzy glances at Donald across a room, and he glances back, and a spark ignites.
Or maybe it’s even worse—not physical temptation, but the slow, relentless accretion of slights and misunderstandings and annoyances and accommodations, until you find yourself walking down a street in paradise next to a stranger who you kind of hate. Love, gone. Affection, gone. Whatever brought you together in the first place, gone.
Jesus. Kill me now.
I find the restaurant and stop in the bathroom to freshen up. I have a quick drink at the bar to steady my nerves. From where I’m standing, I can see Will sitting on the deck with a pleasant-looking bald guy and a dark-haired woman in pink capris. Will says something, and his mom smiles widely. Gran wasn’t the only one to warn me about her. A few of the partners at my firm have gone up against Anita Field in white-collar cases. They told me to watch out for that smile. It’s how she bares her fangs.
I have one more drink and head out.
Halfway across the deck I bellow, “Hi there!” The men rise. The toe of my sandal catches on a slat and I pitch forward. Will catches me. He smiles as he guides me to my seat. “Easy, tiger,” he whispers.
We introduce ourselves. Will’s dad, Harry, seems like an amiable, easygoing guy. His mom is more high-strung, but pleasant. Hardly a—what was it? A killer? That was just the defense lawyer in Gran talking, with her reflexive mistrust of prosecutors.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I say. “Our wedding planner had me running all over town.”
Will’s mom laughs. “I remember that so well,” she says. “Harry and I had a much smaller wedding than you two—only fifty guests or so. But the planning was endless! And it’s all up to the woman, right, Lily?” She zeroes in on me with her blue eyes.
She’s a pussycat! I begin to relax. “That’s right, Mrs. Field,” I say. “It’s so unfair.”
“Please,” she says. “Call me Anita.”
I smile. “Okay, Anita.”
She smiles back.
“Anita,” I repeat. “Ah. Nee. Tah. Ahhhhneeeeetaaaahhhh.”
She looks puzzled.
“Anita Bobita.” I bob my head. “Super Beeta.”
Why am I doing this?
“Lily?” Will says in a low voice.
I can’t seem to stop.
“Anita.” I go deep. “Yeah.”
Will is staring at me. I give him a reassuring smile.
Our waitress arrives. Anita orders the salmon, Harry has the tuna, Will has the grouper. “Scotch on the rocks,” I say when it’s my turn.
“And for your meal?” the waitress asks.
I smile up at her. “That is my meal, sweetheart.”
Will takes my hand. “You should order something.” He turns to his parents. “Lily works so hard she sometimes forgets to eat!”
“I’ll have a steak,” I tell the waitress. “Rare.”
“A steak!” Harry chuckles. “That’s how we know you’re a native Floridian.”
I smile at him. “I had enough fish in my first decade to last a lifetime, Harry. I’m up to here with the omega-3s.”
Anita is watching me closely. “Omega-3s,” she remarks. “Excellent for brain power.”
“Which I need, to keep up with your brilliant son,” I tell her.
We make some more idle chitchat. The waitress returns with our drinks. I help her out by taking mine right off the tray.
“The waitstaff is gorgeous here,” Harry remarks after she leaves again.
I slap him playfully on the arm. “Bless you, Harry. She’s a tranny!”
He freezes for an instant, then chuckles. “I suppose I forgot where we are.”
“You blush just like your son!” I cry. “Do you know that this morning, when he was—”
“Before you got here,” Will says quickly, “I was telling my parents the story of how we met.”
“In the bathroom,” I say.
“In the bar,” he says.
“In the bathroom of the bar,” I say.
Will reaches for my hand but knocks over a glass of water. Or maybe I do. Either way, we sop it up with our napkins. His mother is silent, studying me.
“Like I said, Lily works so hard,” Will says. “She barely gets any sleep at home. I think she really needs this week off before the wedding to,” he looks at me with a fixed smile, “chill out. Relax.”
“I remember those days,” Anita says, after a longish pause. “Before I joined the U.S. Attorney’s Office, I spent eleven years at one of the biggest firms in Chicago. What a life.” She launches into some anecdote, but I can’t concentrate. I’m too distracted by her perfect hair. The breeze is stiff out here, but there’s not a tendril out of place. It’s superhero hair. I bet it could deflect bullets.
I start laughing. She stops talking.
“Sorry?” I say. “What?”
“I understand it’s even worse now,” she concludes, kind of grimly. “The hours are long,” I agree. “But I love the work.”
She looks surprised. “It’s rare to hear someone in our profession say that. Most young lawyers—”
“Lily,” Harry leans forward. “I think your nose is bleeding.”
I feel my lip. He’s right. “Sorry!” I say, standing up. “This happens sometimes. I have a nervous septum.”
Anita frowns. “A what?”
I excuse myself and clean up in the bathroom. I stop at the bar on the way back. “Triple pink squirrel please, Lloyd.”
The bartender looks up from her phone. “What?”
“Or a bourbon,” I say. “Neat.”
She takes a glass down from the shelf.
“Future in-laws,” I tell her, jerking my thumb toward the deck.
She pours a stiff one and pushes it toward me. “On the house, sugar.” I come back to the table and sit down, a little too hard. Anita clears her throat. “Will told me you attended Harvard Law School. I’ve hired some of my best prosecutors from Harvard.” She says something else, but I don’t catch it because I’m totally hypnotized by the way her jaw doesn’t move when she talks.
“Lily’s a genius,” Will says.
I wave the compliment away. “Getting into Harvard was easy. I just had to blow the Dean of Admissions.”
Anita stares at me. “I beg your pardon?”
“She’s joking,” Will says, covering his face with his hands.
“I am! Joking!” I say. “Sorry. Totally a joke. That definitely did not happen.”
Anita’s fingernails are tapping the table slowly. They are a deep, bloody red. I am completely entranced by them.
“We’re looking forward to dinner with your family on Thursday night,” she says. She’s relentless with the conversational topics, this one. Sister’s like one long, boring, conversational-topics steam train. But now she’s giving me this nasty little smile. “You certainly have an unusual number of parents. When I opened the newspaper yesterday, I wasn’t sure whether I was reading your wedding announcement or a review of some reality-television program.”
“Meow,” I say.
“Mom,” Will sighs.
I’m not going to let her rattle me. No sir. I will maintain my dignity and composure.
“Did the announcement run?” I say. “How is it?”
For some reason I’ve adopted my father’s British accent.
“It’s very nice,” Harry says.
“Capital,” I say heartily. “Capital, capital!”
“Got Will’s name wrong, though,” he adds.
“Crikey! How?”
Will jumps a little in his seat. “It’s no big—”
“His first name isn’t William,” Harry tells me. “It’s Wilberforce.”
“No it isn’t,” I say automatically.
“Yes,” Anita says, “it is.”
I stare at Will.
“I never said my name was William,” he insists.
“Wilberforce?” I burst out laughing. “Good old Wilberforce!”
“Wilberforce was my father’s name,” Anita says.
I nod solemnly. “Mine too.”
Anita stands abruptly and leaves. Will leans toward me. “Lily? I think you should go back to the hotel.”
“Why? I’m fine!”
“You’re not fine,” he says. “You’re nowhere near fine.”
“I just need to eat something. Look! Here comes food.”
Will, Harry and I dig in, and the atmosphere at the table relaxes. Anita doesn’t come back.
“I hope your mom didn’t get stuck in the bathroom,” I say. “The toilets in this restaurant are extra … extraord … I mean they’re really—”
“Forget the toilets,” Will mutters. “We don’t need to talk about the toilets.”
“So Lily. How long have you lived in New York?” Harry asks.
“Technically since I was a teenager. That’s when I went north to live with Dad and my stepmother Jane. But they packed me off to boarding school pretty much right away. I only spent vacations and holidays in the city, until I moved there after law school.”
“And are you as happy with the city as Will is?”
“I love New York. It’s the greatest place in the world.”
He smiles. “How do you like the Upper East Side?”
“I hate it. It’s the suckpit of the universe.”
Harry looks confused. “Then why do you live there?”
“I don’t. I live downtown with Will.”
Harry looks shocked. I glance at Will, whose face has turned pink.
“Oh, wait!” I slap my forehead. “Ow. I do. I do live on the Upper East Side. We … we call it ‘downtown.’ It’s a real estate thing. Anything below Ninety-Sixth Street is ‘downtown.’ Property values. It’s … kind of crazy.”
Harry stands up. “I should see how your mother is doing.” He leaves.
I have another bite of steak. It’s so good! I should eat food more often.
Will tosses his napkin onto the table. “That went well.”
“You think?”
“Fuck no!” he cries.
I’m so startled that I drop my fork. Will almost never swears.
“Will, I—”
He’s staring at me, aghast. “What were you thinking, Lily? Were you trying to ruin that?”
“Of course not!”
“It was a disaster. I don’t even know what to say.” He’s furious. He’s never talked to me this way before. And he’s right. Of course he’s right. I see that now.
“I’m sorry.” I touch his arm, but he doesn’t respond. He’s staring at nothing. “I wanted to make a good impression,” I say. “I talk too much when I’m nervous.”
Will beckons the waitress over and orders a drink. He runs his hands through his hair. “What they must think,” he laments.
I try to cheer him up. “Who cares? They’re only your parents.”
He shakes his head. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“Really? Are they also,” I pause dramatically, “your brother and sister?”
“Goddammit, Lily!” he shouts. “This isn’t funny!”
“Sorry sorry sorry.” And I am. I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way. Things got out of hand. And now Will is despondent. I feel terrible.
“My relationship with them is … challenging,” he says. “It’s important to me that they like you, that they approve. Otherwise … never mind. It’s impossible to explain.”
He sounds so grim. Can it really be as bad as that? “Tell them I’m not usually like this,” I suggest. “Say it’s stress from the wedding, or work, or whatever. Tell them it’s driving me bonkers. And I drank too much on an empty stomach.” I reach out for his hand. “I’m sorry, baby. It won’t happen again.”
Will thinks this over. His drink arrives. “Wedding stress,” he says. “It might work.”
I let him ponder that. I’d love to order a glass of red wine to go with my steak, but I don’t.
“You could have warned me that they didn’t know we live together,” I say.
He glances at me ruefully. “I meant to tell them this morning. I didn’t get the chance.”
“Is it such a big deal? I didn’t think people cared about that sort of thing anymore.”
“Lots of people do,” he says. “Including my parents. Not everybody’s family is as unconventional as yours.”
“I guess. But … did you really have to tell them I lived on the Upper East Side? That’s like a knife, Will.” I tap my chest. “Right to the heart.”
He half smiles. “What was I thinking?”
“It’s okay.” I pat his hand. “It just means we’re even now.”
He puts his head in his hands.
“Will? I was kidding!” I tap his shoulder. “Will? Will?”