Chapter 10

On Friday night, Darcy sat at the round table with the Books and Booze members discussing Romeo and Juliet. The soups and salads had already been served, and most of the members already drank their first alcoholic beverage of choice.

Darcy hated the play. When Juliet schemed with the nurse to secretly meet Romeo, Darcy tossed the paperback on the waiting room floor in a mediation office and stormed outside for a break. When Juliet visited the apothecary for poison, Darcy clutched the book in her lap in a public restroom and counted to five so she would not scream.

“Romeo’s and Juliet’s deaths were unnecessary.” Without waiting for Barry, she launched the evening’s discussion. “If divorce had been legal, Juliet could have schemed with her nurse to hire someone like me to orchestrate the entire process so no one would have known she had been married to Romeo.”

“Oh, I disagree.” Barry bent the spine of his paperback. “Legally, the marriage could have been annulled. But Juliet didn’t want the marriage terminated. She wanted to be with Romeo forever, because she thought she loved him.”

“Amen.” Anita lifted her glass of merlot for a toast.

Barry clicked his bottle of beer against her wine glass.

With her heartbeat racing, Darcy opened her mouth. “How stupid young love is! Always thinking the future will be better than the moment. Sacrificing everything to save face against impossible ideals!” She threw up her arms. “No wonder the play ends in a double suicide.”

“That’s why the play is called a tragedy.” Lucas tugged on his pony tail. “A tragedy ends with a death. A comedy ends with a wedding. Doesn’t anyone remember Aristotle?”

Charlotte lifted her glass of chardonnay. “Love is tragic.”

In an attempt to regulate her breathing, Darcy gulped a mouthful of air to keep herself from choking. She placed her hands against her chest until her heartbeat fluttered into a normal rhythm. Why was she so upset over a play? Who cared if couples died for love? After all, the play was make-believe, and not a documentary. Why not join the others and toast to love? With a steady hand, she lifted her martini glass and tapped the rim of Charlotte’s wine glass. “To love.”

The server delivered plates of prime rib, barbecue chicken, hamburgers, and New York steaks.

Barry cut into his rare steak. “Romeo and Juliet is about impossible love.”

Shaking his head, Eric set down his dripping hamburger. “Am I the only one who sees the play differently? Romeo and Juliet is a story about the origin of gang violence. That’s why they remade this play into that movie, West Side Story. If they were remaking it today, it would be called The Bloods and Crips. It’s about territories and belonging—”

“—and how true love conquers all.” Anita swallowed the last of her merlot and poured another glass.

Charlotte nudged Darcy. “She’s had too much to drink.”

Darcy giggled. “No, she hasn’t. She’s an incurable romantic.”

Eric clicked the side of his glass with his fork. “Can we read Heart of Darkness for next week?”

“What’s it about?” Anita squinted.

“A trip to the Congo where everything goes wrong.”

“A comedy of errors?” Anita arched an eyebrow and took a sip of merlot.

“No.” Eric pointed a fry. “More a tragedy of common sense.”

Groaning, Anita waved her hand. “I think I’ll skip next week.”

Eric slapped his hands against the table. “We can’t always read everything you choose. It’s a group. We need to consider each other’s suggestions. No one has agreed to any of my suggestions since Lord of the Flies one year ago.”

Charlotte shuddered. “I didn’t like the scene where those boys killed the pig. It still gives me nightmares.”

Standing, Eric flung his napkin on the table. “If we don’t read Heart of Darkness, then I’m leaving the group.”

Barry motioned for him to sit. “Let’s nominate another book and vote for one or the other. Okay?”

Darcy raised her glass. “How about A Doll’s House? I’m craving some Ibsen.”

Anita lifted her chin. “That suggestion reminds me of my favorite novel. I nominate Valley of the Dolls.”

“That book is not a classic,” Barry said.

“It’s a best seller.”

“Not the same thing.”

Lucas raised his hand. “How about A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man?”

Eric shook his head. “Barry said we nominate one more book, not two.”

“Yes, that’s what I said.” Barry nodded to Eric. “So, the vote will be between Heart of Darkness and A Doll’s House. How many vote for Heart of Darkness?”

A tick of panic alerted Darcy. With the wedding planning, she lacked the time to indulge in reading. Ibsen’s plays she knew by heart. Holding her breath, she glanced around the table.

Eric and Barry raised their hands.

“How many vote for A Doll’s House?”

Charlotte, Darcy, Lucas, and Anita raised their hands.

“Okay.” Barry lifted his arms. “A Doll’s House wins.” With his elbow, he nudged Eric. “I’m sorry your nomination lost. I really don’t want to read a feminist play either.”

Relief snaked through Darcy’s body. One more item was marked off her to-do list.

****

On Saturday morning, Darcy raked up small piles of brittle orange and gold leaves in Sam and Linda’s front yard and scooped them into the green yard waste bin. She loved the burn in her leg muscles from squatting and standing as she cleaned the yard and the pleased look of satisfaction on the faces of Sam and Linda who didn’t have to hire a gardener.

The crisp, cool air contrasted with the vibrant warmth from the exercise. When she finished, she would freshen up before driving to Healdsburg to meet Joyce and Tyler for their visit with caterers. Tomorrow, they planned on shopping for a photographer.

“Darcy, your phone is ringing.” Holding up the trilling cell phone, Linda stood on the porch.

She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“I got the final judgment in the mail today,” Monica said. “I’m divorced.”

“Congratulations!” Darcy smiled. “Time for your freedom party.”

“I would love to,” Monica said, “but I’ve lost all my friends. There’s no one to invite.”

“Yes, there is.” Darcy straightened her spine. “I’m coming. The two of us are having dinner this week. Pick your favorite restaurant. I’ll make the reservations and order your favorite cake. We’re celebrating your new life.”

She sobbed. “Thank you, Darcy. You don’t know how much this party means. Everyone else thinks something’s wrong with me for wanting to throw a party. They say I’m a sick person. Even my mother said she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore because I’m going to hell. That’s why I didn’t abort my son, even though I knew he might to be born disabled, and I wish I had. Life would have been so much easier. I wouldn’t have gotten a divorce, because I would’ve had the time and energy to be a better wife to my husband. But I listened to my religion and ignored my heart.” She sniffed. “Don’t get me wrong. I love Joey, but I wouldn’t have missed him if he hadn’t been born. Am I a bad mother?”

Darcy sighed. How many times had she wished Joyce, a normal child with all the typical little problems, had never been born? She could not imagine raising a disabled child and being married to Nathan. The amount of courage, strength, endurance, and patience seemed unfathomable. “No, Monica. You’re not a bad mother. You’re just an honest one.”

****

From across the elegant, formal dining room, Darcy spotted Joyce and Tyler waving. Scents of fresh bread and coffee filled the room with a pleasant aroma. The low chatter of patrons mingled with the clatter of silverware.

She smiled and waved back, weaving around the white linen-covered tables full of people until she arrived at the one in the back by the window.

Tyler stood and walked around the table to pull out her chair so Darcy could sit.

“Thank you for being a gentleman.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, Ms. Madison.” Tyler’s blue eyes sparkled. His golden brown hair fell in a wave over his forehead. He folded his lean, tanned arms on the table.

“Call me, Mom,” Darcy said.

“Okay, Mom.” Tyler flashed a crooked smile, and the dimple winked.

No wonder Joyce wants to marry him, Darcy thought. How wonderful to wake up to his smile every morning.

“We’ve already ordered.” Joyce unfolded her napkin.

“But I haven’t looked at the menu.” Darcy pinched her eyebrows together, wondering how exotic and expensive the dishes might be. “I thought you would wait for my opinion.”

“Don’t worry. We have excellent taste. Everything is organic and locally sourced,” Tyler said.

Joyce clapped her hands. “You’ll love it.”

When the server set down trays full of polenta surrounded by sautéed vegetables, asparagus covered in mustard-looking sauce, and salads full of nuts and berries, Darcy widened her gaze. Who ate this type of food?

Joyce slid the plate of polenta toward her mother. “Try it.”

Forcing a spoonful of the polenta into her mouth, Darcy chewed. The mushy mess tasted like cardboard. She swallowed it like medicine and grimaced.

Tyler leaned closer. “What do you think?”

“Not flavorful enough.” Darcy washed her palate with iced water and reached for the salt shaker. “I know you both are vegans, but I don’t understand why you won’t serve one meat dish for the rest of us who aren’t.”

“Most of the people we know have food allergies. No gluten, no dairy, no food dyes, and no preservatives.” Tyler ticked off each item on his fingers. “We figured we can’t go wrong with fruits, vegetables, and beans.”

“Thank goodness you aren’t serving wine, because I don’t think anyone knows what type of wine goes with this food.” She pointed to the asparagus.

“Don’t make fun of us, Mom. Dad’s not serving alcohol at his wedding.” Joyce leaned closer and whispered, “Is that the reason why you’re not attending?”

She sat straight and smiled. “Actually, I sent in my RSVP last week.”

Joyce parted her lips, but no words escaped from her mouth.

Tyler raised his glass of water. “That’s great, Ms. Madison, I mean, Mom. Are you coming alone or bringing a date?”

Uh-oh, Darcy thought. She didn’t mean to discuss the topic any farther and hardened her smile into a mask. If she stated the facts, she wouldn’t be lying. She clutched the napkin in her fists. “I am bringing someone.”

“You don’t have to bring Betty.” Joyce wrinkled her forehead. “I know the plane ticket will cost a small fortune, not to mention the hotel room. I’m just happy you’re coming.”

“I’m not bringing Betty.” She released the napkin in her lap. As she thought of showcasing Victor as her date, she smiled. “I’m bringing a man.”

Joyce gasped, her eyes as wide as teacup saucers. Placing a hand on her chest, she leaned forward and whispered. “Meeting men online is dangerous.”

“I didn’t meet him online.” She deepened her smile. “I work with him.”

“Ah.” Tyler nodded. “A classic workplace romance.”

Joyce frowned. “I don’t remember you mentioning any man you work with. You only talk about Betty.”

“I work with tons of divorce professionals.” She extended her arms wide to encompass the room. “I just talk about Betty because she’s my best friend.”

Tyler crossed his arms and set them on the table. “Tell us about this man you’re dating.”

“There’s not much to tell.” She cocked her head. “He’s a family law attorney specializing in divorce. He’s never been married nor had kids. And he’s just as jaded about love as I am.”

“You’re lying.” Joyce shook her finger and narrowed her gaze. “You don’t date. You stay home and read books and drink martinis. I bet this guy doesn’t exist.”

She pinched her lips tight. Victor did exist. They worked together. “No, I’m telling the truth.”

“What’s his name?” Frowning, Joyce crossed her arms over her chest.

“Victor.” Why the twenty questions? She felt she was a teenager who had just started dating.

“His full name.”

“Victor Costello. I don’t know if he has a middle name.”

“That’s interesting.” He leaned back. “I attended San Jose State University with a man named Victor Costello. Track and cross country. Best sprinter I ever met. How long have you been dating?”

“A couple of months.” Perspiration beaded against her neckline. She hoped Victor wasn’t the same man Tyler knew. How awkward would that situation be?

“That’s wonderful.” He smiled.

Joyce pursed her lips.

Wrapping his arms around Joyce’s shoulders, he kissed the top of her head. “Aren’t you happy for your mother? After all these years, she’s found someone.”

Joyce lifted her eyebrows. “Do you have a picture?”

A lump thickened her throat. Darcy fumbled with her phone, her palms slick with sweat. Didn’t she take some photos from the Gala? Or download any from the newspaper when the article appeared? As she scrolled through the images, she held her breath. She found an out-of-focus picture of Victor sitting next to her at the dinner table engaged in a conversation. “Here.” She relaxed her shoulders as she handed the phone to Joyce.

Joyce squinted at the fuzzy photo.

Tyler leaned over Joyce’s shoulder. “I can’t tell if it’s the same guy I know, but it could be.”

Joyce’s mouth dropped open. “My mom can’t be dating the same guy you attended college with. He’s too young for her.”

Tyler shook his head. “Like I said, I can’t tell from the picture.” He handed back the phone to Darcy. “I’m sorry she can’t be happy for you, Ms., I mean, Mom.”

“That’s not the issue.” Joyce clutched the sides of her head. “How can someone who’s against love be dating?”

“Stranger things have happened.” She scrolled through a few more photos and handed the phone to Joyce. “See the dead raccoon on the side of the road? Someone stopped and tied a Get Well Soon balloon to his leg.”

She shook her head. “It looks altered.”

“No, this picture is mine.” She touched her chest. “You know I don’t know enough about computers to touch up anything.”

She laughed. “You’re right. Otherwise, the photo of you and Victor wouldn’t be so blurry.”

“Exactly.” Relieved, Darcy exhaled. How she wished Victor was an older man. Everything would be so much easier, she thought.