The flowered arch had been moved in front of the window, with the New York skyline as a backdrop. All the flowers that had decorated the alternate site for the wedding were still in place, still in full bloom under the soft afternoon lighting. There were a dozen guests, all people who had been on his side of the aisle. The judge was waiting.
Cassie went up the stairs in her bridesmaid dress, this time with her hair perfectly styled. “I’m supposed to walk down ahead of you, whenever you’re ready,” she announced. Good, Jane thought. That way I can keep an eye on you.
Cassie turned and posed at the top step. Below, the piano began pounding out the strains of the “Wedding March.” Cassie started down, one careful step at a time. Jane waited until she was halfway down and then, for the second time in two days, began her walk down the aisle.
Bob Leavitt and Craig were waiting with Bill near the arch. Cassie took a position to the other side of the judge and looked back at Jane. Her expression was one of complete joy. Jane had to give her credit. The kid could really act.
Bill stepped forward and took her arm, then led her forward until they were standing in front of the judge, who was wearing a dark business suit with a light tie.
“Dearly beloved, children, relatives, and friends,” His Honor began. Jane listened to the traditional wording as if she were a guest at someone else’s wedding. She didn’t focus on the true meaning of the ceremony until Bill, asked if he would love, honor, and protect her, said that he would. And then it was her turn. She listened carefully to the promises being asked of her and thought that she really should ask for time to consider. Instead, she heard herself say, “I do.” Then Bill was kissing her, the judge was shaking her hand and pecking at her cheek, and the small gathering of guests was applauding happily.
“Mrs. Andrews,” Bill said as he turned her and led her toward the dining room. He seated her at the center of a table set for a light supper and took the place next to her. The caterer, who had bounced back from yesterday’s disaster, poured champagne, and Robert Leavitt rose with a toast that hoped for their long life, continuing love, and, who knows, maybe even another son and heir. Hens were served in cognac sauce.
“Are you happy?” Bill asked, leaning toward her.
“Happy and amazed,” Jane answered. “How did you do this so quickly?”
The conversation over dinner was spirited, with tales of her husband’s foibles dominating. Jane learned that he had bathed in the Fountain of Trevi, fallen down the side of a pyramid at Luxor, and insulted the archbishop of Canterbury by calling him “Your Holiness.” He had testified before the wrong committee of Congress, met with the president with his fly open, and congratulated the governor of New York for the economic miracle of New Jersey. Bill laughed harder than anyone, seeming most human when he was down off his pedestal. But Jane noticed that not one of the many stories concerned his travels with Kay, or even came from the years when she was alive. Even in the most lighthearted moments, Kay was off-limits.
She looked around at the happy faces, wondering which one of them might be furious that the marriage had taken place. The corporate guests—Robert Leavitt, Kim Annuzio, Gordon Frier, Henry Davis, and John Applebaum—were completely involved in roasting their chief executive and seemed to be enjoying every moment of it. The children were angelic. She couldn’t help wondering which one of them had spiked her coffee. They were all pictures of innocence. She began to doubt her earlier certainty. Maybe it was the stress of the previous weeks, mingled with a bit of wine. Perhaps the sinister plot to keep her and Bill apart really was all in her mind.
They adjourned to the piano bar, and the judge formally signed the marriage license. “You’re legal,” he told William Andrews. “In fact, this may be the only legal thing you’ve ever done.” Bill served as bartender, pouring round after round to the off-key singers. Network executives took off their jackets and loosened their ties. Henry Davis, the financial vice president, began to doze in one of the soft chairs. Kim Annuzio kicked off her shoes and gyrated to a rock beat.
Jane was delighted as character after character stepped out of his corporate role and became recklessly human. The automatons surrounding William Andrews seemed to be human after all, which made Bill less of a mysterious icon. Even Cassie and Craig, on the sidelines of the party, looked like normal young adults. “This is going to work,” Jane told herself, delighted that the marriage she had just entered might even turn out to be joyous. She laughed out loud when Bill pulled her out into the center of the room to join Kim in her spastic dance steps. She was still dancing when the skyline behind the picture window turned red with the sunset.
“It’s time to go,” Bill suddenly announced.
“Go where? Isn’t this where we live?”
“On our honeymoon. I hope your bags are still packed.”
“Now?”
“Isn’t this when you usually have a honeymoon? After the wedding?”
The party moved to the foyer, where John Applebaum, head of the publishing division, loaded their duffel bags onto the elevator. Then Jane and William Andrews were pushed in by their waving guests. Someone even managed to throw a handful of rice before the elevator doors closed. A limo whisked them to the heliport, where the helicopter was waiting for the short flight to the Westchester County airport.
The pilot pushed their bags into the small luggage space. Then he helped them climb into the cabin. They found a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice. William poured while the pilot climbed aboard and started the turbine engines. Jane left the wine in her glass.
“This is a different chopper,” Andrews noticed for the pilot.
The man nodded. “Yes, sir. We sucked in some debris yesterday when we landed at that mountain house. So we’ve got it in the shop, checking out the engine. Just a precaution.” The whine grew into a howl, and the helicopter lifted off.
Mountain house? Jane remembered Bill saying that he had flown out to the house in New Jersey, which was in rolling horse country, definitely not on a mountain. There was only one house that fit with his claim of winding up a private legal matter. That was the ski chalet upstate that was built on the top of a mountain, accessible by only one road. The house where Kay Parker had been murdered.
Andrews raised his glass in a toast. “Here’s to one whole week without a single interruption.” She clicked her glass against his but sipped very slowly, now concerned about thinking clearly. What had she just learned?
That her husband, on the day of their wedding, had gone to the site where his first marriage had ended in a blast of gunfire. Why? Was he selling the place to put an end to the past? Did he want to be sure that Kay, and the agony of her death, would never intrude on his new marriage? That was a comforting thought. Or had he gone back to a shrine? Maybe to tell his first wife that no matter what, he would always love her? Or perhaps to ask her permission to get on with his new life? That was something Jane didn’t want to consider.
The momentary elation of the wedding party vanished. The image of her husband, happily entertaining his friends, faded. His romantic rush to have her to himself seemed fabricated. Once again, William Andrews became the secretive, ghost-ridden figure she had come to fear.
Was she making too much of it? Maybe he was simply authorizing necessary maintenance on the house or meeting with an architect about renovations. Or perhaps some legal matter concerning the property had to be settled in a local court. There were countless possible explanations that had nothing to do with his first marriage.
But one thing was certain. He had lied to her. Whatever he was hiding was more important than an honest beginning with his new wife. She realized that she couldn’t trust him, that he saw her as a danger to the secrets he was protecting and would never let her share the truth of his past. And now she was going to be alone with him in a sailboat far offshore, out of touch with the rest of the world. Jane set down the champagne glass and turned her face to the window.