What are we talking about in 2002? The Queen Mother; No Child Left Behind; Daniel Pearl; Homeland Security; the Beltway sniper attacks; Elizabeth Smart; farm-to-table; Chandra Levy; Jed Bartlet, Leo McGarry, Toby Ziegler, Sam Seaborn, Josh Lyman; “My friend the Communist holds meetings in his RV”; The Nanny Diaries; Andrea Yates; American Idol; 8 Mile; Match.com.
On Saturday, April 6, Lincoln Cooper Dooley celebrates his first birthday and Mallory throws a party at the cottage.
Who comes?
Well, Kitty and Senior fly up from Baltimore; they’re staying at the Pineapple Inn because the White Elephant and Wauwinet have yet to open for the season. Cooper, now divorced from Valentina, says he can’t make it, and Mallory doesn’t push for a reason though she suspects it’s because he’s in a new relationship. In lieu of his presence, he sends presents, including a four-foot-high stuffed giraffe from FAO Schwarz that is such overkill, Mallory rolls her eyes, even though the giraffe is cute and does sort of resemble Cooper.
Fray drives down from Vermont with his girlfriend, Anna, pronounced “Ah-nah.” She’s the bassist in an all-female post-grunge band called Drank.
Also coming for Link’s birthday are Sloane Dooley and Steve Gladstone. They’re staying at a different inn from Kitty and Senior because Kitty has been staunchly aligned with Geri Gladstone since the Gladstones split. Mallory doesn’t particularly relish the idea of Sloane and Steve in her cottage, even for a matter of hours, but Sloane is Link’s grandmother, so what can Mallory do?
The second Mallory became a mother, she felt like she had finally entered a room where she belonged. Link was delivered by cesarean section at Nantucket Cottage Hospital, and the nurse whisked him off to get cleaned up while the surgeon stitched Mallory up. The operating-room nurse said, “They’ll bring your boy back in a few minutes.”
“He’s mine,” Mallory said. “He’s mine for the rest of my life.”
This was the happy ending to a situation that started out as…complicated, to say the very least. Mallory and Fray were not in love, and any lust they felt for each other evaporated the instant they walked off the dance floor at Cooper’s second wedding reception.
Six weeks later when Mallory called Fray and told him she was pregnant and that the baby was his, he asked if she was sure. She said yes, she had taken three pregnancy tests, all of them positive, and she hadn’t been with anyone else since the previous September. Okay, he said, so what do you want to do? She said, I want to have the baby and you can be as involved or uninvolved as you want to be, no pressure, I don’t expect you to marry me or move to Nantucket or even kiss me again, but if you could throw me some money for expenses, I would be grateful.
And guess what—Fray was as amazing as could be. Yes, he was excited too. They were going to have a baby! It seemed funny and surreal, as though they’d taken a biology class together and during lab, this was what they’d produced: a baby. Fray had always wanted to be a father, especially since he had never had one. He would be present but not omnipresent. He would travel to the island the first year or two and then, once the baby was weaned, Fray would bring him or her to Vermont for stays. They would figure it out; they wouldn’t argue or quarrel. This was a miracle they would both cherish.
Sharing the news was thorny. Mallory and Fray decided on the unvarnished truth: They’d hooked up at Cooper’s wedding and Mallory had gotten pregnant. They were no longer involved but they were going to co-parent.
Mallory decided the best way to tell her parents was in a letter. She explained what happened, and at the end, she wrote: Call me when you’re ready to discuss. This was a genius move on her part because Kitty was able to process her emotions offstage and then call Mallory once she’d sorted her thoughts. She said that although this was “quite unexpected,” both she and Senior had always loved Frazier like their own child and they were, of course, “simply thrilled” to become grandparents.
Next up for Mallory was Cooper. She called him in the evening after work. She said, “Listen, I have some crazy news. I hooked up with Fray during your wedding reception and now I’m pregnant.”
Cooper had laughed. Of course he’d laughed.
“I’m serious,” Mallory said.
She should have sent a letter to Coop as well because that phone conversation lasted forty-five minutes, with Cooper starting out incredulous, then moving on to angry (Cooper had apparently made Fray promise, way back in high school, that he would never “go after” Mallory), before ending up at loving acceptance. It was going to be great, he said, the two people he loved most in the world were having a baby together.
Two people he loved most? Mallory had thought at the time. What about Valentina?
The final hurdle was Leland. How could Mallory tell Leland that she was pregnant with Fray’s baby and expect the friendship to survive? There was no way. Leland was still with Fiella Roget, they were in love, a couple—but no matter, Leland would see this as a betrayal. Fray was hers.
Mallory would have gone the letter route but she was afraid Fray would tell Sloane, then Sloane would tell Steve, and then Steve would tell Leland. Mallory couldn’t let the news reach her that way.
She called the apartment in New York and left a message for Leland to call her back, she had urgent news. The phone in the cottage rang at quarter past two in the morning, waking Mallory up. She knew who it was and she was glad for the late hour, the velvety dark, and even Leland’s inebriation because it made the whole thing slightly easier.
Sit down.
Who’s dead?
No one. I’m pregnant.
What?
Lee, let me finish. I hooked up with Fray at Coop’s wedding and now I’m pregnant.
Silence. Which Mallory had anticipated. She resisted the urge to fill the space with words. She waited, said nothing.
Finally: You’re telling me you’re having Fray’s baby?
That is what I’m telling you.
Oh my God, Leland said. Fifi won’t believe this. I mean, you can’t make this stuff up, right?
Right? Mallory thought. Leland didn’t sound angry, only baffled and maybe amused. Was everything going to be okay, then?
Just know this baby will have two godmothers who will make her every wish come true. We’re here for you, Mal. She paused. Good God, Fray’s baby. You aren’t a…couple, are you?
No, Mallory said. It was a one-time thing. Well, I mean, except for this.
Leland said, Fifi, get over here and congratulate Mallory. She’s going to have Frazier’s baby.
Yes, Mallory thought. Everything will be okay.
Now Link is a year old, fat, happy, smiling, babbling, three-toothed, putting everything in his mouth, drooling, crawling, cruising as he holds on to the furniture, cheered on by people who love him. Apple is at the party with her fiancé, Hugo, and Isolde and Oliver come as well. Isolde starts passing appetizers and Oliver is bartending and Mallory tries to stop them from working but it’s what they do. After everyone has a drink (this is a party for adults; there isn’t a single other kid here. Link has “friends” at his day care, but Mallory wasn’t about to throw unsuspecting parents into her bizarre family dynamics), the atmosphere becomes more relaxed. Cooper Senior and Steve Gladstone step out onto the front porch together, though Kitty and Sloane are holding down opposite ends of the living room like they’re tent stakes. Kitty is very much the alpha grandmother. Sloane looks like an older and slightly more distinguished version of the person Mallory remembers, though she has shown up wearing black leather leggings and a diaphanous yellow blouse, showing off a black lacy bra beneath. Her hair is still long and tangled, as though she just rolled out of bed. She seems aware that her presence here is controversial, but Sloane never cared much what others thought of her, and why should that change now just because she’s a grandmother? She sits with Fray and Anna. Anna is wearing ripped jeans and a Veruca Salt T-shirt and heavy black eyeliner; her left ear is pierced eight times. She is a very sweet person; Mallory likes her a lot, and she’s good with Link, and Fray seems happy. He comes to Nantucket once a month and rents a very cool apartment in town across the street from Black-Eyed Susan’s and he takes Link all weekend, stopping by only to pick up breast milk and extra clothes if he needs them.
And so—the party! Mallory keeps the music mellow—Simon and Garfunkel and Jim Croce—and she cranks out the hot appetizers: sausage in brioche, cheddar tartlets, Sarah Chase’s famous Nantucket bay scallop puffs. In between pulling things out of the oven and loading up platters, she checks on Link, on her mother, on Sloane.
Where is Sloane? Mallory does a quick scan of the cottage—no Sloane; no Steve either, for that matter—and Mallory wonders if they left. Did Kitty say something impolite? Mallory hands her mother the scallop puffs to pass as she does a quick lap. Bathroom? Empty. Mallory’s bedroom? Empty. (Thank goodness.) Link’s nursery? Empty. She thinks they might have gone out to the front porch to look at the ocean and get some air, but then Mallory sees the door to the guest room is cracked open and she spies Sloane and Steve inside, clearly having a whisper-fight. Sloane’s face is twisted into a furious snarl and Steve is holding his palms up.
Mallory hears him say, “You were the one who insisted we come.”
Mallory walks away. She tries to imagine Sloane and Steve in the early passion of their secret affair—the all-consuming obsession, the stolen moments of rendezvous made more heady because it was so forbidden. Had they viewed their love as a rare jewel, something no one else could possibly understand? And if so, how did it feel now that they had devolved into being just like the masses, squabbling because they felt uncomfortable at Sloane’s grandson’s first-birthday party?
Food for thought. If Mallory and Jake were ever together-together, would they wake up one day to find the magic gone? Probably yes.
Fray and Anna have brought Link a pile of gifts, which he’s tearing open, and Kitty comes to the kitchen for more wine. “Don’t you think everyone should gather if the baby is going to open his gifts?” she asks.
“No,” Mallory says. “He’s one.” She wants to avoid a big to-do about the presents because it will turn into a showdown between grandmothers. Honestly, Mallory would like the party to be over. She’s weaning Link slowly but her breasts are still producing milk and right now her breasts are hot and full. She should go into the bedroom and pump but she’s afraid if she does, the party will detonate like a bomb, and innocent people—Apple, Hugo, Isolde, Oliver, Anna—will get hurt. She looks at Link sitting in the center of the floor, banging on a new drum that Anna got him—gee, thanks, Anna—and her eyes well up with tears because she loves him so much and yet she worries about bringing him into such a nontraditional family situation. Someday he will grow up and learn that his father was his uncle’s best friend as well as his mother’s best friend’s boyfriend and he’ll learn that his grandmother broke up the marriage of his mother’s best friend’s (and father’s ex-girlfriend’s) parents—and what will he think of that?
Never mind Kitty.
There’s a knock at the door and whoever walks in is temporarily blocked from view, though Mallory does see a taxi pulling away down the no-name road, and she thinks, Huh?
A second later she sees her brother.
Cooper is here. He came. The tears Mallory was holding back start to fall because some people just make everything better, and Cooper is one of them.
“Surprise!” he says. “My sister and my best friend have a baby and you think I’m going to miss the first birthday? You think I’m going to send a giant giraffe in my place?”
Mallory has bought a cake from the Nantucket Bake Shop. They light the single candle and sing. Link couldn’t care less, but it’s all good because this is the final hurdle before everyone can go home. Apple and Hugo, Isolde and Oliver, are the first to leave; the exodus has begun.
Senior and Kitty have bought Link a fat plastic baseball bat and a squishy baseball, among other things, and Senior is eager to take Link out onto the beach so they can play. It’s chilly but bright, Mallory says okay, fine. She and Kitty and Cooper and Steve Gladstone go outside to watch while Sloane, seeming a little calmer, offers to clean up. Senior stands a few feet away from Link and tosses him the ball. Without any instruction, Link swings at the ball and makes contact on the first try and everyone cheers.
“Natural talent here, Mal!” Senior calls out.
After a few more pitches—two hits out of five—they all go inside. Cooper volunteers to run Sloane and Steve Gladstone back into town. Once they’re gone, Fray says that he and Anna should probably leave as well; they have a dinner reservation at American Seasons that evening. Fray will be back in the morning to pick Link up for the day.
They leave and Mallory tells Kitty she needs to nurse Link and put him down for a nap. Kitty blinks and Mallory waits for her mother to comment on the fact that she’s still breastfeeding one year in, but instead, she shocks the hell out of Mallory by saying, “I’m proud of you, darling.”
“What?” Mallory says. “You are?” She doesn’t mean to sound woe-is-me or dramatic but Mallory is pretty sure she has never heard these words come out of her mother’s mouth. Kitty was proud of Cooper growing up; they were all proud of Cooper. Mallory was certainly loved but not often celebrated.
“The party was lovely,” Kitty says. “And the food delicious. I chatted with your friend Apple, and she told me what a good teacher you are and how much your students love you. She says you’re getting them all to read, which is just marvelous, darling.”
“Oh,” Mallory says. She’s so unused to hearing this kind of praise from Kitty that she feels nearly uncomfortable. “Thanks.”
“It couldn’t have been easy to have Sloane Dooley and me in the same room. You and Frazier are acting like mature adults, and it’s remarkable how warm and generous you are with his girlfriend. And you are a wonderful mother. Link is such a sweet, good-natured baby, even-tempered and bright, and that’s because of you.” Kitty stops. There’s something else coming, Mallory thinks. With Kitty, there’s always something else coming. “I just wish you would find someone special. I want you to be happy.”
“Oh, Mom,” Mallory says. “I am happy.”
Kitty smiles, but it’s clear she isn’t convinced.
An hour later, Link is napping and Mallory and Cooper are sitting out on the front porch with drinks, braving the chilly wind blowing off the water.
“Mom doesn’t think I can be happy without a man,” Mallory says.
“It is curious that you haven’t met anyone,” Cooper says. “You’re quite a catch.”
Mallory doesn’t respond right away. Wine and confessions are the best of friends, so she has to be careful. She wants to tell Cooper about Jake, but she just can’t. The reason their relationship works is because absolutely. Nobody. Knows.
There was that night at Christmas a few years ago when she and Jake broke protocol and danced at PJ’s. Surely Coop picked up on something then? He must be thinking the exact same thing because the next words out of his mouth are “So did I tell you that Jake McCloud moved back to South Bend? And that his wife, Ursula, is running for Congress?”
Mallory nearly drops her wineglass. “What?”
“Yeah,” Cooper says. “And it looks like she might win.”
On August 30, Jake arrives by ferry, though in his postcard, he said she shouldn’t pick him up, that he would take a taxi to the house. Mallory knows this is so no one sees them together.
When he walks in, she hands him a beer. Cat Stevens is on the stereo. The cheese and crackers are ready, burger patties in the fridge, the last hydrangea blossom is in the mason jar next to a single votive candle, and Mallory has placed two novels on Jake’s bedside table: The Lovely Bones, by Alice Sebold, and The Little Friend, by Donna Tartt.
Everything is the same—except for the basket of toys in the corner and the stray Cheerios underfoot. Mallory finally got Link weaned; he’s spending the long weekend in Vermont with Fray and Anna.
The first kiss is Mallory’s favorite part of the weekend. It’s like taking a long cold drink of water after wandering in the desert for 362 days. Every year she worries that the chemistry will be gone—for Jake or for her—and every year the kiss is hotter and more urgent than the year before.
This year, Jake grabs her ass, squeezes, pulls her closer and tighter, and murmurs into her mouth, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
Mallory wants to make love, but she stops herself and pulls away ever so slightly.
“Tell me what’s going on,” she says. “South Bend? Running for Congress?”
It was 9/11, he says. Ursula lost coworkers—many acquaintances and one close friend. “Maybe he was more than a friend,” Jake says. “I always suspected that Ursula and Anders had something going on.”
“Oh yeah?” Mallory says. This is the first time Jake has ever hinted that Ursula might have been unfaithful. Mallory hasn’t breathed a word about the nature of her conversation with Ursula at Cooper’s wedding, or even that they had a conversation.
“Doesn’t matter now,” Jake says. “Except that it spurred this decision in Ursula. She wants to make a difference. Change the world.”
Jake and Ursula have bought a home on LaSalle Street in South Bend, a single-family, flat-roofed stucco house on a half-acre lot. Jake has kept his job with the CFRF; he flies around the country raising awareness about cystic fibrosis and lots and lots of money for research. Ursula is nominally employed by a law firm in downtown South Bend, though most of her time is consumed with learning the issues of Indiana’s Second Congressional District and campaigning. The seat has been held for over thirty years by a gentleman named Corson Osbourne, who is now retiring. He was Ursula’s professor at Notre Dame and has given her an enthusiastic endorsement. Osbourne is a Republican, but Ursula is running as an independent.
“An independent?” Mallory says. “Isn’t that a lonely position to take?”
“With both sides fawning all over her?” Jake says. “Hardly.”
Mallory won’t lie: she’s stung that Jake’s life has undergone such a major change and she had no idea. She spends the whole weekend grappling with why it bothers her so much, but it’s only on Sunday evening, after they finish watching Same Time, Next Year, that she can put it into words.
“Do you not think it strange that George and Doris both have entire lives at home that just sort of disappear when they get to the inn?”
“Isn’t that the point?” Jake says. “What matters to them is what matters to us: they get to live in a happy bubble one weekend per year.”
“It’s a movie, Jake. The viewer is willing to suspend disbelief. But this is real life.”
“What are you trying to say, Mal? You want to know how I feel about the terms of my mortgage? You want to know who I sit with in church?”
“You go to church?”
“We do now. Ursula is running for office.”
“Ursula is running for office,” Mallory says. “The United States Congress. You’re going to be thrust into the public eye. And we both have children now…”
“We both had children last year,” Jake says. “Last year was great and this year has been even better.”
“Maybe we should stop,” Mallory says. As soon as the words are out, she wants to snatch them back. Neither of them has ever said this before. “I noticed you didn’t want me to pick you up on the dock.”
“Simple precaution.”
“I think it would be better for you if we stopped,” Mallory says. She stares at the two fortune cookies on the coffee table, still wrapped in plastic. It would be helpful if they really could predict the future. “It’s a miracle we haven’t been found out yet.”
“I think it would be better if we didn’t stop,” Jake says. “This weekend is important to me. It has become a part of who I am. Do you understand that?”
Mallory climbs into Jake’s arms and rests her head on his chest. She loves their Sunday-night routine and she hates it. She would give anything for it to be Friday again. She feels this way every year. “Tell me the truth,” she says. “Is there a tiny part of you that hopes she loses?”
“I will tell you the truth,” Jake says. “And only you. There’s a tiny part of me that hopes she wins.”
The midterm elections in November are quiet. Few Americans are paying attention, but Mallory Blessing is. She watches Tim Russert all evening long until he announces winners in the minor congressional races, including Indiana’s Second Congressional District, where a young attorney named Ursula de Gournsey—born and raised in Indiana, valedictorian of the University of Notre Dame’s class of 1988—has come home and won in a landslide, running as an independent.