The morning after my birthday, Jonathan took me home and, needless to say, I was smiling from ear to ear. We had a wonderful night.
“Want some toast?” Harlan said, calling out to me from the kitchen.
“Sure!” I dropped my tote bag at the bottom of the steps.
“How was your evening?” he said. “There’s coffee. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.”
“You know, if staying over at Jonathan’s becomes a habit, I might have to talk to you about birth control.”
I giggled and said, “You might have to talk to me about self-control but birth control? Probably not.” I sat down across from him and stirred a drizzle of half-and-half into my coffee.
“Oh dear, look at you.” Harlan smirked at me and then smiled wide. “What on earth did you do last night? Your hair is a fright, and your eyes are all puffy!”
“It was wonderful, and that’s all I’m going to say.”
“My word! Well, did he bake a birthday cake?”
“Harlan? He made a whole Italian dinner of veal marsala and some sautéed escarole and little potatoes, and he made a cake. Yes, he made a cake. It was delicious. Yellow cake, chocolate icing. From a mix but it was absolutely delicious.”
“And how much red wine did you drink?”
“What makes you think we drank wine?”
“Because there’s a rather impressive red wine stain on your blouse?”
“Oh.” Sure enough when I looked down, there it was. “Just one bottle, I think? Anyway, guess what?”
“What?” Harlan said, wiggling his eyebrows. “He tried to have his way with you?”
“Oh, please. No! He gave me a trip to Italy! And he’s coming too, but only if I say so, which I will. He just doesn’t want to push me. And of course, we need you to help us plan it. But it’s only valid if we go before my next birthday. Isn’t he great?”
“He sure is. Did he buy tickets yet?”
“No, he wants me to tell him when I want to go and then he’ll buy tickets. Yep! I’m finally going to Italy. Isn’t he marvelous?”
“Yes, he is. That’s fabulous! Absolutely fabulous. I’ve always liked Jonathan. Well, I got you something too. I was going to give it to you yesterday, but I didn’t have the paperwork yet.” Harlan got up from the table, picked up an envelope from the kitchen counter, and handed it to me. “Here. It was the best gift I could imagine for the woman who now has everything.”
I opened the envelope and inside was a picture of a magnificent Havanese surrounded by puppies.
“What’s this?”
“This is Miss Jo’s sister and she’s just had another litter. I’ve reserved you a male. His name is DuBose. We can’t have him until he’s weaned. Eight weeks—and I’ll housebreak him.”
“A puppy? Harlan? Have you lost your mind?” I started laughing.
“No, and whenever you and Jonathan want to go off on a trip to Madagascar or some crazy place, DuBose can stay with his uncle Harlan! We can go to the tailor together. When he’s fully grown, I’m going to have a white dinner jacket made for him.”
“Oh, Harlan! You are too funny!” I got up, hugged him, and kissed him on his cheek. “You are simply the most wonderful brother in the world.”
“True enough. And I’ve got a broker to help you find a house. When you’re in the mood to shop, that is. I mean, you could just stay here and we could become one of those famously weird families that wind up in Southern gothic novels. I could call you Sister and you could call me Brother.”
“Probably better if I get my own place.” I giggled.
“Probably,” he said.
Being with my brother had become a great source of lighthearted happiness for me. It was wonderful to share a space with someone who held you in the same regard in which you held him. I wanted to see that Harlan was happy and he constantly went out of his way to do the same for me. The fact that Wes worked so hard all those years to deny me Harlan’s splendid company and that I had allowed it? It made me sick inside. Those years were gone and I’d never get them back. But I’d spend the rest of my life being the greatest sister I could manage to be. That was the best scenario I could envision.
The following Thursday, Harlan and I dropped an excited Miss Jo off with Jonathan for the weekend and tore up the road in my sporty new car, heading for Atlanta. The car was packed to its last square inch, and both of us were eager to get there. Harlan had loaded the CD player with beach music and chamber music.
“Harlan? Do you still like to dance?”
“Yes, but usually when I’m alone. And after a martini. You’ve seen me dance!”
“Think you might dance with me at this wedding?”
“If you let me lead. As I recall, you always liked to lead.”
“Harlan, the only dancing I’ve done since high school is the walk around.”
“And what, may I ask, is the walk around?”
“Wes held one of my hands and put his other hand on my waist and we walked around the dance floor.”
“Dear Mother. I don’t know if that’s more pitiful or tragic. All those years you could’ve been doing the watusi and the limbo.” He snapped his fingers in the air. “Gone!”
“That’s the old Les. Danette tells me they’ve hired an outrageous band. The new Les intends to dance her way into old age. I’m excited!”
“Well, hoochie coo, I’d be glad to help.” He was quiet for a minute and then spoke again. “Not to bring up a sore subject, but does Wes know I’m coming?”
“Yes, he does. I called him the other day because he had not called me with his decision about the division of our assets, which, by the way, he said he wanted to talk to me about this weekend. And if he thinks I’m interested in discussing my financial future in the middle of a wedding, he’s out of his mind. I told him you were coming, and he actually apologized for his prejudice all these years. He’s trying to change. At least that’s what he says. Somebody must have dressed him down.”
“He’s such a stupid man,” Harlan said in a matter-of-fact voice.
“And foolish,” I said. “Very foolish. But like Josephine said, I’m going to row my own boat in the future.”
We were quiet for a few minutes.
“Good for you! So we’ve never really talked about Josephine Pinckney. What did you finally decide about her?”
“Well, I read Sea-Drinking Cities and Three O’Clock Dinner and part of Splendid in Ashes, which I hope to finish when we get home. But then I read the Bellows biography and got a whole insight into her life that made her fiction make a lot of sense. I guess I think a lot of things. For one, she was way ahead of her time.”
“Agreed. She was probably the original liberated woman, if you don’t count Julia Peterkin, of course.”
“Now who’s Julia Peterkin?”
“Oh my word! She was the only woman from South Carolina to ever win a Pulitzer, that’s all. And she was and still is probably twice as controversial as Jo Pinckney.”
“Oh. Gosh. There’s another one I don’t know a thing about. But I imagine you’ll bring me up to speed on her sometime?”
“You know it. But back to Jo?”
“Well, I feel like her overbearing mother sort of ruined her prospects of a husband and family. But I’m not certain she was ever interested in having children anyway.”
“But she sure liked having a man in her life,” Harlan said, “even if his availability or his proclivities were dubious.”
“You said it. She had as many men as she liked, but you know when she was young I think she was more interested in having a career and making a name for herself. And she was so close with Amy Lowell, who was a great mentor for her. When she was older, she was attached to that fellow Waring, who, like her own father, was so much older than she was. And to be honest, who knows what really went on there?”
“Probably not much.”
“Exactly! And then Amy Lowell died young, DuBose Heyward died so young, and then her mother and Waring and her old nurse, Victoria Rutledge, all died; and I think death terrified her. Each one of those deaths had a profound effect on her. It was almost as though she couldn’t believe they were really gone or that they had left her. Except for her mother, whose death liberated her even more.”
“And then she winds up dying herself, alone in a hospital room in New York at sixty-three years of age. Her worst nightmare.”
“Everyone’s worst nightmare.”
“But this doesn’t answer the question of why she slipped into obscurity,” Harlan said. “She wrote wonderful poetry and fascinating fiction and helped found the Poetry Society of South Carolina. She traveled like mad, knew and ran around with all the important people of her day, and yet . . . you had no idea who she was. Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe poetry fell out of fashion and people started watching television? Maybe because she never got her movie made.”
“And I think there was a general change in the taste of the public too. After World War II, Hollywood became more serious. All that Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire stuff seemed frivolous in light of the times. Maybe.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I loved her writing.”
We became quiet, and as soon as the music changed from the Four Tops to Vivaldi, Harlan put his head against the window and drifted off to sleep. I began to remember our childhood. While he dozed I wondered how many indignities my sweet brother had endured because of his sexual orientation. I remembered then how he was bullied in school and for the longest time I was too young to understand it. Once when I was about eight years old, some high school kid, Tommy Something, called Harlan a terrible name and I kicked him in his shins as hard as I could. That got me in hot water with everyone except my mother, who thought I was pretty wonderful to do it. After that, the kids at school never called Harlan names or teased him in front of me. But when I was pregnant with Bertie and had to marry Wes, well, after that Wes dictated every aspect of my life. I was glad I remembered then because it strengthened my resolve that leaving Wes was the only way to salvage what was left of me. I’d never ever be in that kind of a compromised position again.
At last we pulled into the drive of the Loews Hotel in Atlanta after crawling along in traffic and gave the car to the valet. We quickly registered, and the bellman took us up to our room. He opened the door for us and began turning on lights. We entered a large living room with a wet bar and a half bath. There was a beautiful sofa and two club chairs, a table with four chairs and a large flat-screen television. The bedroom had two queen-size beds and a beautiful low and long chest of drawers on which stood another television.
Harlan peeked in the bathroom and said, “There’s a swimming pool in here.”
I looked, and sure enough, the bathtub seemed like a small swimming pool to me too.
“Can I get y’all anything else?” the bellman said as he brought in our bags and placed them on luggage racks. “Ice?”
“No, we’re fine,” Harlan said and walked him to the living room door. I heard the door close and then Harlan called me. “Les? Come here!”
I walked out to the living room, and there on the coffee table was a vase of two dozen red roses packed to death with baby’s breath.
“How did we miss this?” Harlan said.
“I’m afraid to ask, but is there a card?”
“Dare we open it?”
I took it from the plastic stick and opened it.
“It says, Meet me for a drink tonight? Love, Wes.”
“He really went all out, didn’t he?”
“Mother Machree,” I said. “I guess I have to do this?”
“No, you don’t,” Harlan said. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do ever again.”
“He’s never sent me two dozen roses in my whole life.”
“He’s never had to give anybody this much money in his whole life either. I mean, I’m sorry to be so blunt, but . . .”
“No, no. You’re right, Harlan. Whatever he has to say to me, he can say it over the phone.”
“Absolutely. And you might remind him that this is better than going through lawyers. He knows that. In fact, this is such a transparent effort to get you back in his fat clammy hands, I’ll even guess that he’ll go along with whatever you propose. Watch. Call him right now and watch what happens.”
My stomach cramped and I felt slightly nauseated. “What do I say?”
“Girl? Where’s your spine? You just tell him that you’re busy and what does he want to talk about, that we’ve got plans for tonight and that’s it. Soooo, what’s up, Wes?”
“Harlan? I love you but don’t push me. But you’re right. Damn it. I may as well do it and get it over with.”
“That’s the spirit! I’ll be in the other room. Call me if you need me.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I reached into my purse, took out my cell phone, and thought, I really didn’t ever want anyone to tell me what to do, but Harlan was right. I pressed in his number. Wes answered on the second ring.
“Leslie? Is that you?”
“Yes, Wes. It’s me.”
“Did you get the flowers?”
“Yes, thank you. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
“Please! I just wanted to welcome you home, that’s all. So where should we meet? Want to come by the club around six? We can get a nice corner table and talk about things.”
I didn’t say, This is no longer my home or The last thing I want is for you to put me in a corner ever again.
Instead I said, “Well, first of all, I have plans and as I told you the other day, there’s really nothing to talk about, Wes. I’ve said all I have to say.”
Harlan stuck his arm into the living room and gave me a thumbs-up gesture. Then he came in the room and whispered, “Is everything okay?” I shushed him away.
“But I haven’t,” Wesley said.
“You can tell me right here and now, Wesley.”
“Well, it’s just that . . . I don’t know, Les. Things aren’t the same without you.”
“This is how it is now, Wes. I’m sorry, but this is how it is.”
“Yeah, I know, but the difference is that I really miss you, Les. I do. In fact, it’s become sort of stunning, this hole you left in my life when you walked out. I don’t like it. I’m not happy.”
“Well? I don’t know what to say to you except I think for the sake of our old friends, we should attend this wedding as two civilized adults who love them. This weekend is not about us. It’s about Danette and Harold and Molly. And I hate that this may sound so cold, but I think you need to write me a check or hire a lawyer. Sorry, Wes.”
“I see. So, there’s no, um, changing your mind? I mean, Les, have a heart.”
“That’s the whole problem, Wes. I do have one and you broke it.”
“And there’s nothing that can put it back together again?”
“Not that I know of, Wes. I’m sorry, but I’m really all done.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Wes? Wes?”
I heard silence. Wes had disconnected me.
“That son of a bitch,” I said.
“I heard your every word,” Harlan said rushing in. “You sounded very nice, given the stress of the situation. But what did he say?”
“It’s not what he said but what was unsaid. He never apologized or said that he loved me. Not once.” I felt so disgusted and abused.
“He’s really a dope,” Harlan said.
“Not exactly revelatory, Harlan. But why do you say that now?”
“Because for a woman like you who devoted her entire life to him and your children, that’s about all he would have to say and there’s a fair chance he might have won you back. That he doesn’t know it makes him a huge dope.”
I hated to admit it. Harlan was right. I might have gone home if Wes had only said he was sorry in the sober light of day and that he loved me. How pathetic was I?
“You don’t understand, Harlan. Wes is never, ever wrong.”
“Well, he sure is now,” Harlan said.
“Yep,” I said and burst into tears.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry! What did I say?”
“It’s just sad, Harlan. It’s not your fault. What you said is probably true. And it’s going to cost him an awful lot not to love me.”
“It can’t cost him enough, if you ask me.”
I smiled then. I smiled and thought how lucky I was to have Harlan and how lucky I was to have another chance to be happy.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I said, “and then let’s go out and paint the town.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea.”
While I showered, washing away the remnants of my conversation with Wes, I wondered how many married people were out there who hated each other but couldn’t afford to get a divorce. They simply couldn’t pay for two households. I’d bet there were more than a few. And would I really go back to Wes if he had said he was sorry and that he adored me? I decided it didn’t matter anymore. If I ever went back, all the same problems I had with our marriage that made it unbearable would still be there waiting. Wes would still be so cheap he squeaked, there would be no romance, and he would never look me in the face and really like what he saw. He’d never value my intellect, humor, or resourcefulness. No, I had made the right decision. I was completely certain of it.
Over cocktails Harlan said, “Are you feeling better now?”
I said, “Harlan, the reason I got upset this afternoon was not because I’m sorry I left Wes or because I’m still in love with him or anything like that. It was because it’s painful and embarrassing to realize how little affection I was willing to live with for all those years. I talk to him and it’s more than a little startling that he thinks that tossing me a crumb will be a life-changing event for him.”
“Well, he’s going to regret losing you for the rest of his life.”
“But he’ll never know why it happened, Harlan. That’s what bothers me about him. The crumbs bother me about myself.”
“God, sister, you would’ve made the best psychoanalyst in the world.”
“Thank you, brother, but I prefer to plan a trip to Italy.”
“You know, Leslie? I have great admiration for you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’re smart, you’re beautiful, and we know this but lately, I guess ever since you’ve made this momentous decision to redesign your life? Well, you seem like my kid sister again. And I’ve missed my kid sister something fierce. The one with the guts.”
“Ha-ha,” I said. “Y’all better look out, world! She’s back.”
“Good news for me! So tell me about tomorrow night.”
“Danette is hosting the rehearsal party for Shawn’s family. I imagine Harold will be there, definitely without Cornelia, and I think Danette said that her friend Nader is coming. That should be very interesting. But it’s mostly out-of-town guests like us and the wedding party. So Charlotte will be there with Holly and I imagine Bertie too. I can only hope that Bertie will have washed.”
“Hmmm. I never thought about it, but now I’m wondering how does one shampoo his dreadlocks?”
“I have no earthly idea. He must’ve cleaned up his act somewhat because he had a job interview this week.”
“Well, let’s hope it went all right.”
We ate dinner at the hotel. I didn’t feel like getting the car out and dealing with any more traffic, and Harlan didn’t care where we ate. So we picked some appetizers from the bar menu and shared a bottle of wine.
“What’s the dress code for tomorrow night?” Harlan asked.
“I spoke to Danette earlier just to let her know we’re here. She’s pretty excited. Sport coats for the boys and something nice for the ladies.”
“And for the wedding?”
“Black tie. You brought your tuxedo, didn’t you?”
“Of course. I hope you’re not wearing that black dress again,” he said.
“Why not? It cost a fortune!”
“Hello? So what? You’re rich, remember? Let’s go to Neiman’s first thing tomorrow and buy you an outfit that will make Wes lose his mind!”
“Really? Oh, Harlan, who cares what he thinks?”
“I haven’t given two hoots what Wes thought in a thousand years, but the part of you that wants to make him see the difference in you wants a new dress. And that’s that.”
“You know what? You’re right!” I smiled, thinking I completely agreed.
By ten thirty the next morning I was standing in front of a mirror in a dressing room at Neiman Marcus trying on every even remotely appropriate dress in the store. By noon we had narrowed it down to three. A flesh-colored dress with bronze metallic trim that made me look naked, or so I thought. An aqua silk dress with silver beading that made me look like a mermaid. And a red crepe dress with cap sleeves and a sweetheart neck that I thought showed too much cleavage but made me feel like a movie star. It had a tight waist and a full skirt and reminded me of a Doris Day movie from the sixties.
“Les? I love the flesh-colored dress. It’s dazzling! Dazzling is good.”
“I think it’s immoral,” I said.
“Okay, then, how about the blue one? That color reminds me of the water around Bermuda. It’s beautiful with your hair.”
“It makes me feel old, like a great-grandmother.”
“But you don’t feel like a vamp in the red one?”
“Yes, I do, and I think vamp is good.” I looked at the price tag and nearly gagged. “I need shoes too.”
“Black suede?” said the salesperson. “What size?”
“Eight medium,” I said.
While we waited for the shoes, Harlan began to hum “Hard Hearted Hannah (the Vamp of Savannah).”
“Put that red dress on again. I want to see it with the shoes.”
“Okay. Shoo!”
Harlan left the dressing room and I put it on. Was this going to turn heads? When was the last time I wore a red dress? When I was a girl? It was time. Time for red. I wondered if I could get someone to put my hair up in a French twist after the brunch tomorrow. Or maybe I’d just do it myself.
The saleslady returned with several pairs of shoes and I chose the plainest ones, thinking I could always use a great pair of black suede pumps. And she had a large circular brooch for the shoulder of the dress that appeared to be made of rubies and diamonds. We pinned it on.
“Okay, so what do you think?” I said. “I think it looks very real.”
Harlan was sitting on a chair in the waiting area. He inhaled and when he exhaled, he whistled long and low. Then I twisted my hair up and held it.
“The new you. It’s absolutely perfect. Wes is going to go into convulsions.”
“Let’s hope.”
Danette’s party was gorgeous and the weather was fine, although they were predicting rain. Impending storms brought the temperature down, which was a good thing, because the day had been a scorcher. Harlan and I got there a little late because of traffic and had to park way down the street. There was a small steel drum band playing and we heard the music long before we saw the first guest. The air was suffused with the smells of flowers and roasting meat, and there was laughter. Lots of it. Danette had outdone herself. Her back porch and garden were filled with young people laughing and talking and eating different foods all served on little bamboo skewers.
“She’s going to be picking skewers out of the bushes for the next two years,” I said.
“I think this looks like a really fun party,” Harlan said. “Wait! Is that Danette with the short hair?”
“Yep, that’s her!”
“She looks amazing! I’m going to say hello. Can I bring you a drink?”
“No, I’m fine,” I said and scanned the crowd.
I spotted Charlotte first and noticed that she was in fact with Dr. Chen. There seemed to be more than a passing familiarity between them and I wondered if she was sleeping with him. Then I told myself she was a grown woman and that was her own business, not mine. And Wes was standing by the bar with Harold and Paolo. They were drinking some amber-colored drink, which I assumed was alcoholic. They looked very somber. Well, I thought, they sure had plenty to commiserate about.
And there, by the roasting pig turning on a spit and a long buffet spread of every kind of island food, was my Bertie, talking and laughing with Suzanne and Alicia. He had them charmed. They held their plates and ate like little birds. His dreadlocks were tied back with a leather string, but other than his weird hair, he looked rather nice in his chambray shirt and khakis. I praised all things holy that he was wearing shoes and not sandals. He must’ve taken a series of showers and soaks. Even my wild child still had some regard for decorum. And, as it turned out, one of the groomsmen had taken a nasty spill and broken his arm, so my Bertie, dreadlocks and all, was filling in for him. Danette said that Molly was delighted to have his hair in her wedding pictures, and I told Danette that this was yet another bloodcurdling indication that I was definitely getting extremely old.
Molly and Shawn moved through the crowd, thanking everyone for coming. Molly looked radiant, which was a relief, because I couldn’t look Shawn in the face without thinking of Cornelia. It appeared that the Cornelia disaster was behind them and that they had decided to forgive, forget, and move on.
Young love, I thought and sighed heavily.
I spotted Holly at the end of the crowd, in the deepest recesses of Danette’s yard, wearing a beautiful dress with a bow in the back, running, playing some kind of a game with a little redheaded boy around her age. I assumed he was the ring bearer. They were so darling, a snapshot of childhood. I couldn’t wait for Harlan to get to know her.
The lanterns overhead moved with the breeze, and it was a beautiful sight.
“You look lost,” a male voice said. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Oh!” I was so involved in taking the scene all in that I was surprised.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I startled you!”
I’d never seen him before. He was younger than most of us but older than our children. He was very handsome, with a deep olive complexion and the most beautiful smile. And, let me tell you, he was spraying the yard with testosterone through every single pore in his body. I knew at once who he had to be.
“Nader?”
“Yes, I’m Nader Tavakoli, Danette’s friend. How did you know?”
“I’m Leslie Carter. I’m so happy to meet you! It had to be you because Danette’s told me all about you.”
“I hope all good?”
“Only good,” I said and giggled like a fool. “But you are even more handsome than she described!” What was I saying? It sounded like I was flirting! “Not that she didn’t say you were . . . handsome, that is.”
He laughed too. I liked him immediately.
“Come, let’s get a drink,” he said and took my elbow.
We walked toward the bar. Danette grabbed my arm and introduced me to Shawn’s parents and his sister and his old-maid aunts from Tennessee.
“Why don’t I just bring you something?” Nader said.
“Any kind of sparkling water would be great,” I said. “Thanks.”
Shawn’s aunts were lovely. In typical Southern fashion, we chatted away about Shawn, stories from when he was a mere lad. And I threw in a few stories about Molly and how my children had grown up with her and the bridesmaids. Forgoing wine, I sipped my glass of sparkling water, in deference to the dress I had struggled to zip, and I ate only protein tidbits. They moved away to talk to someone else and there I stood. A target for Wes.
I couldn’t avoid him so I spoke to him.
“Hi,” I said.
“Nice party,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “It is. Danette did a beautiful job.”
“Looks like she’s herself got a boyfriend, although he looks pretty young for her.”
“I think he’s just right,” I said and looked at him.
I was thinking he had some nerve to make a crack like that when he was in her home and on the receiving end of her hospitality.
“Harold’s not too happy about him being here,” Wes said.
“Tough noogies for Harold,” I said and smiled.
“Oh, I get it. You’re saying what’s good for the gander is good for the goose?”
“I’m saying nothing of the sort. I think Nader is a lovely gentleman and Harold might lighten up. He should be glad she’s found someone who makes her happy. Would he rather have an ex-wife who wanted to torture him for the rest of his life? God knows, she’s got grounds.”
Wes looked at me, obviously surprised by my direct remark. “Really?” he said.
“Yes, really. What’s the matter with you, Wes? Is your memory really that short or do you fellas get together and rewrite history?” I said and walked away.
Maybe it wasn’t the nicest thing to say, but he could not possibly have expected me to support Harold.
The night went on, people eating and drinking and taking endless pictures of each other until the young people peeled off to go to a club. Holly, who was enthralled with her new uncle Harlan, climbed up in his lap and went to sleep. We were a small group then, Danette and Nader, who mingled; Harlan and I, who listened; Paolo, Wes, and Harold, who clustered and blustered; Charlotte and Dr. Harry Chen from Shanghai, who told wonderful stories about his family and their Chinese weddings.
“So the grandmothers always have to outdo each other, and the aunties fight over everything else . . . food, music, who will design the flowers. All families are a little bit crazy,” he observed with a solemn face.
“Oh, Harry,” Danette said. “You have no idea how true that is!”
“Someday I’ll tell you stories,” Charlotte said.
“It was a wonderful night,” I said to Danette. “Thank you.”
She nodded her head in appreciation and agreement.
“I’m so tired, but I’m so excited too. And golly, it’s just so good for all of us to be together for this.”
“Yes. Yes, it is! And I’m excited too,” I said. “Come on, Harlan. Big day tomorrow.”
“Righto! Why don’t I go get the car so you don’t have to walk on the road in the dark?”
“That’s sweet! Thanks! The key’s in my bag over there.”
Charlotte gave me a kiss on the cheek and said, “See you tomorrow, Mom. I’ve got to get this little flower girl to bed.”
Charlotte seemed different then, as though having Holly and treating her with lots of motherly attention made her more attractive to Harry Chen. I hoped I was right.
“See you, honey. Y’all be careful going home, okay?”
Harry Chen smiled and said, “Don’t worry! If anything happens, at least she’s with a doctor!”
I smiled at them.
“Got ’em!” Harlan said; he tossed the keys in the air, caught them, and left with Charlotte and Harry.
“He’s so great,” Danette said.
“Yeah, he really is; he’s a wonderful brother. Hey, if I can do anything for you tomorrow, I’m here, okay?”
“Oh, please! You’re giving the brunch and that’s enough. It’s a pretty small wedding so I’m hoping it will go off without any major calamities.”
“I’m sure it will be perfect.”
I was reasonably confident that it would be perfection. After all, Molly was Danette’s only child.
Our brunch was lovely. People came and went because hair appointments and so forth interfered slightly with our timing, but I had figured it might be that way. It was more like an open house than a seated meal. And actually the casual atmosphere put everyone at ease. After several hours of mimosas and Bloody Marys, omelets and salads, our guests began to leave, thanking me, saying it was so nice of us to provide such a lovely meal and that they were excited to see what the rest of the day would bring. The ceremony was at six.
Harlan looked at his watch. It was almost three.
“Wow,” he said, “that was easy.”
“Yes, it was. I just paid the bill with Wes’s credit card. He’s going to have a cow when the statement comes at the end of the month.”
“No, he won’t. He’s terrified right now.”
“Really? How do you know that?”
“Because I could see it in his face last night. He was looking around at Paolo and Harold, and it was as clear as anything that he doesn’t want to wind up like them.”
“Our marriage was nothing like theirs,” I said. “Tessa died and Harold ran around.”
“It doesn’t matter. Wes doesn’t want to die alone.”
“Who does?” I said.