A Nantucket Wedding

by Nancy Thayer

  Ingrid wore black. She always wore black, probably because she thought it made her look chic or professional. Or because she thought it hid her extra weight, Felicity thought uncharitably.

  “Hi, Ingrid,” Felicity said. “We’ve brought Noah’s folder.”

  Ingrid ignored Felicity and bent over to face Luke. She held out her hand for him to put the folder in. “Hi, Luke. Thank you for bringing the folder. Would you like a sugar doughnut?”

  Luke froze. Felicity knew her son was weighing the pleasure of presenting the folder to his father against the pleasure of having a sugar doughnut—a treat not allowed at home.

  “I have to give this to Daddy.” Luke clutched the folder to his chest.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” Ingrid cooed, “but Daddy’s in a meeting. I’ll take it to him.” She reached out for it.

  Luke took a few steps back. “It’s for Daddy.”

  Go Luke! Felicity thought. “Hi, Ingrid,” Felicity said, “it’s so nice to see you again. Could you tell us what room my husband is in? I’m sure he’d be pleased to have his son bring him his folder. And I’ll tell Luke to be fast like the wind.”

  Ingrid stood to face Felicity. “This is an important meeting. I really don’t think Noah would want to be interrupted.”

  “It can’t be that important,” Felicity said. “Noah didn’t mention it this morning, and he had no trouble falling asleep last night. He always has to take an Ambien the night before an important meeting.” Subtext: I sleep with the man.

  “Oh, dear,” Ingrid said, pretending to soften, but with a steely glint in her eyes giving her away, “all I can say is that he asked me expressly not to be disturbed.”

  Felicity almost laughed, from nervous tension and from the absurdity of the situation. She felt like she and Ingrid were two stags clashing antlers, although wasn’t it the males who did that?

  “Daddy!” Luke yelled and took off running down the hall.

  Felicity turned to see Noah walking toward them.

  “Luke! You brought me my folder! Thank you!” Noah lifted his son up in his arms and carried him toward Felicity and Ingrid. He stopped next to Felicity and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for driving out here, hon. I know it interrupts your day.”

  “We’re glad to do it, aren’t we, Luke?” Felicity said, smiling.

  “Ingrid’s going to give me a sugar doughnut!”

  “What?” Noah asked.

  “Ingrid kindly offered to give Luke a sugar doughnut,” Felicity said.

  “I don’t think we have any doughnuts,” Noah told his son. “But we have bananas and apples. Want a banana?”

  “I have a sugar doughnut in my bag,” Ingrid said.

  “Well, then, I suppose…but you know how I feel about sugar, Ingrid.” Noah set his son on the floor. “I’ve got to get back to the meeting.” He walked off, carrying his folder.

  “Here’s the doughnut, Luke,” Ingrid said, reaching into her bag and handing it toward the little boy.

  Felicity intercepted it. “We’ll wait until he’s strapped into his car seat. Otherwise, you’ll have crumbs all over the floor. Luke, what do you say to Ingrid?”

  “Thank you,” Luke said, not entirely convincingly because he didn’t have his hands on the doughnut yet.

  Felicity did a one-arm pickup of Luke, tucked him onto her hip, and with the doughnut in the other hand, she headed back to the parking lot, smiling all the way.

  * * *

  —

  Alison had never spent much time with Poppy before, and in all honesty, she never wanted to. She understood that David’s daughter’s arrogance and hard edge came from being the vice president of a large company. Jane was like that herself, often. But Alison needed to talk this over with someone before she called Poppy and discussed wedding gowns. Her daughters were busy with their own lives, plus it seemed unfair to Poppy to keep talking to Jane and Felicity about Poppy, and David would think they were ganging up against Poppy, which maybe they kind of were…so she asked her best friend, Margo, to meet her at Boston’s Legal Sea Foods for lunch.

  Over white wine and wild-caught salmon, she explained the situation. She knew Margo would laugh. During the thirty years of their friendship, they’d seen each other through divorces, deaths, and rebelling—Margo had called them revolting—teenagers. This, a disagreement about gowns for Alison’s third wedding, seemed trivial in comparison.

  “But it’s not trivial,” Alison insisted. “I don’t need Poppy to love me, but I’d like to think we could like each other. She’s a grown woman, she has children and a high-powered career. I can’t understand why she’s making such fuss about the length of her gown.”

  “You know what people say,” Margo told her. “It’s never about the gown.”

  “Well, what does that mean?”

  “Think about it. Maybe Poppy will never be friendly. You’re taking her mother’s place.”

  “Her mother died—”

  “Still. Before you, Poppy was the number one female in her father’s life. Now she’s pushed back to number two. And not only does she have to share her father with you, you’re bringing along two pretty daughters.”

  Alison shook her head. “I thought when David said he’d have Heather take care of everything that I could handle an exciting wedding. But I’m doing things all out of order. Now I’ve got to deal with Poppy about the gown, and we haven’t even approached the subject of flower girls and their dresses.”

  “Well, there you are,” Margo said, lifting her hands. “Ask her about her daughter, if she’d like to be head flower girl and what the flower girls should wear. That will give her some control over the wedding, and she might be more reasonable about the gown.”

  “Hm. But what will Felicity think about that?”

  “Who’s the older of the two?”

  “Daphne, Poppy’s daughter. She’s eight.”

  “So there’s your reason—”

  “But shouldn’t the bride get to choose the flower girls? Aren’t flower girls the bride’s attendants?”

  “Well, right. But why not choose Daphne? That will make a kind of bridge between your family and David’s.”

  “That’s an optimistic way to see it,” Alison said. “I’ll think about it.”

  * * *

  —

  Poppy told Alison she was too busy for lunch, but if she could come to the Belmont park playground at five, Poppy would meet her there and they could talk while her children played.

  Alison brought graham crackers and cartons of juice for everyone, and when Poppy said, “I’ll take those and give them to the kids later,” Alison smiled and let Poppy take them. She felt like a dog rolling over on her back, showing her vulnerable tummy.

  They settled on a bench in the shade. For a few moments, they watched Daphne and Hunter run for the slides and monkey bars.

  “Your children are adorable,” Alison said.

  “Thanks.”

  Alison dove right in. “I wanted to ask you, Poppy, whether you’d like to have Daphne be head flower girl for the wedding.”

  Poppy didn’t gush or even smile. “Is that appropriate?”

  “Appropriate?”

  “Aren’t the flower girls part of the bride’s side?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose, although I haven’t read a rule book. But you know, my wedding to David is more about a wonderful celebration. We can kind of throw the rule book away.” When Poppy didn’t respond, Alison continued, “And I’m hoping my grandchildren and David’s will become friends.”

  Still watching her children, Poppy said, “That depends on how my father changes his will.”

  Alison straightened her back. “I don’t understand.”

  “Dad’s told us he’s changing his will. He wants to be certain that you’re taken care of in case he dies before yo
u.” Poppy snapped her head around to glare at Alison. “And of course he will die before you, it’s a statistical reality that men die before women.”

  “Poppy, believe me, I hope I die before David. I can’t imagine being happy without him. But also, David and I have never discussed his will.”

  “I know. He said you’re all airy-fairy about money.”

  “Your father said I’m ‘airy-fairy about money’?”

  Poppy sighed loudly. “He might not have used those exact words, but he doesn’t think you care about money.”

  “Well, I don’t! I mean, of course I do, but I’m perfectly fine financially and my needs are modest. Please don’t think I’m marrying your father for his money. I’ve never cared that much about wealth, and at my age, I’ve learned what’s important and it’s not money. I never imagined I’d meet such a wonderful man and fall so deeply in love. It’s almost miraculous that he feels the same way about me. Money simply doesn’t come into it.”

  Poppy rolled her eyes. “So my father’s becoming as fiscally irresponsible as you. I think you should talk to him about all this.”

  “I think you and Ethan and I should talk to David together.”

  Poppy relaxed. “All right. We’ll do that.”

  Alison played with her engagement ring and tried to gather her thoughts.

  “Poppy, I really wanted to talk to you about your gown for the wedding.”

  “Good. Dad told you why you need to wear a long gown?”

  “No,” Alison responded calmly, “he told me why you want to wear a long gown. I’ve already chosen my gown and had it altered to fit. I’m sorry I didn’t speak with you about this before, but it was only a few weeks ago that I talked to my own daughters about their dresses. Everything’s happened so fast.”

  “It sure has,” Poppy agreed sourly.

  Not to be derailed, Alison continued, “So I’ve gone through some bridal magazines, and checked on some websites, and you know these days, anything goes.”

  Alison reached into her bag and took out several bright pages torn from magazines. She tried to hand them to Poppy. Poppy didn’t take them.

  “So…you see, on this page, the attendants are wearing four different lengths of dresses. And here, an attendant is wearing gorgeous palazzo pants. You could wear those with an expandable waistband so you’d be comfortable. And a beautiful tunic over them.”

  Poppy actually turned her head and looked at the page. She took it in her hand. “You’re right. Something like this might work.”

  Alison was so relieved to hear those words she nearly fell off the bench.

  “But there’s another problem,” Poppy said.

  Dear Lord, what now? Alison thought.

  “I don’t want to wear pink. It doesn’t look good on me, not with my strawberry-blond hair.”

  Alison was prepared for this. “Then don’t wear pink, Poppy. I mean, your father and your brother are wearing tuxes. You’re really an attendant for your father, so you could wear black.”

  Poppy met Alison’s eyes, squinting as if to read her motives for this suggestion. “Hm,” Poppy said finally. “Yes. I think I’d like to wear black to your wedding.”

  thirteen

  Later that day, Alison made vodka tonics with slices of lime and glaciers of ice, and carried them into David’s study. The humid heat was unusual for the middle of June, making people cranky. The north side of their Boston apartment was shaded by an enormous maple tree, and with the curtains drawn and the air conditioner on, it was the coolest room in the house. They sat in club chairs on either side of the fireplace now decorated with a large vase of silk flowers.

  “Thanks. This is exactly what I need,” David said.

  “I know,” Alison agreed. “I’m not a fan of hot weather, no pun intended.”

  “How was your meeting with Poppy?”

  “We had a good conversation. She’s going to wear a pantsuit, in black, in keeping with you and Ethan.”

  “Black on a woman? That sounds odd.”

  “That’s only because we’re so old,” Alison teased. “Black is the chic new color in wedding attire these days.”

  “As long as Poppy and you are happy, I’m good with it.” David took a long drink and relaxed into the cushions.

  “Poppy did raise an issue with me,” Alison continued, shifting to get comfortable in her chair as she brought up an uncomfortable topic. “She’s concerned about how you’re going to change your will.”

  David looked surprised. “She told you that?”

  “Yes. In fact, when I said I hoped our families would be friends, she said that depended on how you change your will. She said that you think I’m fiscally irresponsible and that I’m causing you to be fiscally irresponsible, too.” To her surprise, Alison began to cry. “Oh, David, I hate saying all this, I feel like a grade-school tattletale. And you know I don’t care about money, I have money, not like your money, for sure, but I don’t want you to feel you have to leave me any money, because I don’t want to even think about you leaving me!”

  David leaned over to take her hand. “Hey. It’s all right. I should have spoken with you before about this. I apologize. Poppy can be pigheaded, I know that, and that’s exactly why I told her I was going to change my will. I haven’t done it yet, but I told her I was going to, partly because it’s true and partly as a kind of kick in the butt. She’s got to learn to delegate, especially now that she’s going to have another baby. She takes too much on herself. She tends to think she’s the only one who can do anything right. I think that’s one reason Ethan has little to do with the company.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, David, but this somehow leaves me caught in the middle. As long as Poppy thinks you’re leaving me more money than she thinks I should have, she’s going to dislike me for it, and my girls, too.”

  To her shock, David put down his drink and paced the floor. “I should have seen this coming. Poppy is brilliant and ambitious, which makes her perfect for leading the company, but she’s conflated my will and our wedding. And I don’t like this. Not at all. She’s a clever girl, but not so clever she can manipulate me.”

  Alarmed by his tone, Alison stood up. “David, calm down. And really, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Poppy told you that whether or not her family and yours could be friends depends on how I write my will. Is that correct?” Sparks seemed to shoot from his eyes as he spoke.

  “That’s correct,” she replied, keeping her voice soft.

  “I’m going to have a talk with her about this.”

  Alison reached out her hand. “David, please. I’ll feel terrible if this causes a quarrel between you and your daughter. Really, don’t change your will, it’s not necessary.”

  “It’s absolutely necessary. You’re going to be my wife. I hope I live to a hale and hearty one hundred, but you are eight years younger than I am. You are only fifty-five, and I want to provide for you. It’s also important that Poppy understands she cannot now or ever tell me what to do.”

  Alison started to argue, then thought better of it. “Sweetheart, please. Come to the breakfast room. I’ve made wonderful cold salads and garlic bread. We’ll feel better when we’ve eaten.”

  That caught David’s attention. “A cold salad?”

  Alison laughed when she saw his expression. David was not a salad kind of guy.

  “It’s mostly chicken and olives and potatoes,” she told him. “It’s on a bed of lettuce, which you don’t have to eat if you don’t want to, and there are some marinated green beans. I know you like those.” She kissed his cheek and led him out of the study, relieved to move him away from his anger.

  * * *

  —

  It was a challenging day. The children didn’t want to play outside, but if they stayed in the air-conditioned house, they di
dn’t use up all their energy. They became crazy and silly, running through the house, accidentally knocking lamps over, spilling jigsaw puzzle pieces. When Felicity finally got them in their rooms and on their beds, if not asleep, it was almost ten o’clock. Noah still had not come home. Impatient, Felicity called Noah’s cell.

  “I’m almost home,” he said. “Pulling in the driveway now.”

  Felicity tried to shake off her irritation.

  “Hi, hon,” she greeted Noah when he came in. “Long day?”

  “Long, but good. Really good. I think I’ve lined up another investor. A big one.”

  “Great! Have you had dinner?”

  Noah stood at the hall table, flipping through the mail. Preoccupied, he said, “Yeah. Ingrid and I went out to Giaconda’s.”

  “You went out to dinner with Ingrid?”

  Noah caught the tension in Felicity’s tone. “Yes, and I often go out to dinner with Ingrid. She’s my personal assistant. She knows about everything that’s going on. More, in some cases. We both have to eat sometime, so it only makes sense that we eat while we talk. Don’t look that way, Felicity. You know Ingrid’s an important part of the team. A crucial part, actually.”

  Felicity struggled to restrain her anger. Forcing a smile, she said, “Could you use a nice cold drink? It’s been such a hot day.”

  “I’ll take a beer, but I need a shower first.” Noah headed up the stairs.

  “You need a shower?”

  Noah stopped dead, glaring down at Felicity. “Because it’s hot—oh, come on, Felicity! You think I slept with Ingrid? For God’s sake, why can’t you get it, how hard I’m working? Ingrid is my colleague. Some things are more important than sex!” He stormed up the stairs.

  While he showered, Felicity finished tidying the kitchen, a chore she usually enjoyed. No one bothered her there; she could be alone with her thoughts. She hadn’t known that Noah often ate dinner with Ingrid, and it upset her, even though she knew what Noah had said was true. Ingrid was a crucial part of the team. She had both the scientific laboratory knowledge and the skill to use this knowledge for writing grants.