by Nancy Thayer
“Mountain rescue? What’s happened? Is Scott all right?”
“A hiker on Mount Snowdon found Scott Hudson’s cellphone near the Crib Goch path. Another hiker reported talking with him earlier today on the path. Mr. Hudson told him he was headed for the summit. Where the phone was found, and the fact that it was shattered, indicates that Mr. Hudson might have fallen. We could access some information from the phone but it won’t send or receive calls.”
“Maybe he went back to the hotel, or to buy a new phone?”
“Your husband told Mr. Davies, the hiker who spoke with him, that he was staying at the resort Portmeirion. We’ve called, and he has a room, but he was not there. Someone went to check. We have left him a message on his room phone. The Llanberis Mountain Rescue League has begun a search. On Portmeirion’s records, you are listed as his emergency contact. Would you have any idea what color shirt or jumper Mr. Hudson might be wearing?”
Jane’s mind froze. Oh, Lord, what kind of wife was she? Then, in a rush, she knew. “Scott is a fairly experienced hiker. We’ve read about Mount Snowdon and how cold it can be toward the summit. I’m sure he would be wearing a navy blue fleece jacket, and a blue wool cap with the New York Yankees logo. I think he would have a backpack with him with water and trail mix.”
“Good. Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.” Mr. Aberfa paused. “Will you be able to come to Wales?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll get the first plane I can.”
“Your best bet is to fly into Manchester rather than London. You can take the train to Bangor. That’s faster and safer than renting a car, especially if you aren’t accustomed to driving on the left side of the road.”
“Yes, I’ll do that. Thank you for the information.”
“Is this the number where you can be contacted?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll have further communications,” Derfel Aberfa said.
“Thank you.”
They disconnected. Jane sent emails to her coworkers, grabbed her purse, and took a cab home. She hurried to the closet, reaching to the top shelf for her rolling suitcase. She set it on the bed, unzipped it, and opened her dresser drawer, taking a handful of panties and tossing them in the small suitcase.
“No, stupid,” she told herself, and ignoring the bag, she took her laptop from the top of the dresser onto her bed. Sitting cross-legged in front of it, she searched for the earliest flight she could get to Manchester from New York. It would take an hour to get to Kennedy, and an hour, more or less, to get through security. She booked a flight on British Airways. She raced into the bathroom and brushed her teeth and found the travel kit she always had waiting. She tossed that in the suitcase with socks and a shirt and a sweater, and then she thought that Scott would need clean clothes, too, although of course he had some still at his hotel. She organized her purse, remembered to get her passport from her home office desk, and pulled on a light cashmere sweater. It was still too hot to need the warmth, but she needed the sense of comfort. She hurried out to the street and flagged down a cab.
* * *
—
David had asked Alison to come into his office to go over all the wedding details with Heather, so Monday morning Alison chose her most elegant summer dress, a simple dark blue linen sheath with cap sleeves and a high mandarin collar. While she liked Heather, she was always slightly overwhelmed by her reserved and formal manner. Heather was in her fifties, charming, with the kind of short blond hairstyle made popular by Princess Diana. When they’d first met, she’d worried that David’s assistant might harbor romantic designs on him. David assured her this was not the case. Heather was happily married to Cecil Willet, a surgeon at Mass General.
* * *
—
David had gone into the office early, so Alison drove her own car along the crowded eight-lane racetrack that was Route 128. The English Garden Creams general management offices were housed in a handsome brick and glass high-rise near Natick. The products were made in the larger, lower brick building situated on a winding road behind the main offices. Alison found a parking space beneath a shady tree and walked along the brick pathway surrounded by blooming shrubbery to the main door. She gave her name to the receptionist at the tall desk in the large and gorgeous lobby, and took the elevator to the top floor.
She stepped off the elevator, walked down the hall, and stepped into another receptionist’s office. Immediately Heather came from her glassed-in office, two large and beautiful dogs by her side. Today she wore a simple lavender linen dress and a string of pearls. Alison had never seen a linen dress so free of wrinkles. She made a mental note to ask the all-capable Heather how she did it.
“Alison! Hello. Don’t be afraid. I had to bring the boys to work today because they’ve got their annual vet exams at two and I didn’t want to have to drive all the way home when the vet’s place is so near here. Go on, pet them, they love it.”
“Hello, gorgeous,” Alison said, petting the black Lab while the yellow Lab pushed at her hand for equal attention. “Noble heads.”
Heather absolutely beamed. “Yes. They’re English Labs. Charlie is the black and Henry the yellow. They’re littermates, but they have completely different personalities —Henry is dominant, serious, and protective. Charlie is the mischievous and outgoing one.” Heather squatted on her very high heels and nuzzled the dogs.
“They’re wonderful,” Alison said, trying not to look too amused. This was as effusive and friendly as Heather had ever been.
“Yes, they are, aren’t they? They were named after the whale ship Charles and Henry on which Herman Melville sailed in 1842. They love to run and they’re great swimmers.”
“Perfect for Nantucket.”
“True. Cecil and I have been taking them down every weekend. Of course, that’s made it easier for me to coordinate the wedding with Brie at the Wauwinet. Which reminds me, that’s why you’re here.” Effortlessly, Heather rose.
She must do yoga, Alison thought.
“Let’s go in to David’s office.”
Alison followed Heather as they went through her office with its three walls of windows and one wall of mahogany. They stepped inside David’s office, which was large, thickly carpeted, and beautifully furnished. Charlie and Henry came along, quietly settling in a far corner.
“Hello, Alison.” David rose from behind his desk.
“Oops! I forgot to bring the folder,” Heather said and left the room.
This allowed David a moment to give Alison a kiss. The dogs thumped their tails approvingly.
“She forgot the folder on purpose, didn’t she?” Alison whispered, smiling.
“I’m sure she did. She is the perfect assistant.” With his hand on her shoulder, David led Alison to the leather sofa.
Heather returned with the folders, one for each of them. “Before we begin, does anyone want coffee? Sparkling water?” She indicated a table in the corner with a coffee maker, handsome china cups and saucers, a cut glass pitcher of ice water, and glasses.
David and Alison both asked for coffee. Heather brought them their cups and finally settled, perching on the edge of a chair, as if ready to take off any moment.
“Very well, here we go,” Heather said. “Your wedding is Saturday, September ninth, three weeks away. I mailed out the invitations a week ago and already we’ve had some replies. I have the guest list here and I’m checking people on or off accordingly.” Heather glanced up, smiling. “So far, no regrets. I’m sure people can’t wait to attend this wedding!”
Alison quickly scanned the pages in the folder. Heather had locked in Katie Kaizer for photographer and videographer. She’d ordered and arranged forty welcome baskets, made to look like woven Nantucket lightship baskets, filled with notepads and matching pens in ocean blues, sterling silver “white whale” wine-bottle stoppers, miniature wooden sailboats filled with chocolate-cove
red cranberries, silver compasses with lids, and picture frames embossed with silver shells.
“The guests’ gifts are marvelous, Heather,” Alison said.
Heather beamed. “I thought you’d like them. Now. Offshore Tents will arrive on Friday to set up the tents. Because they will be set on grass, they’ll use pole tents, which can provide a more romantic look, swooping up to peaks with flying banners. Very King Arthur. They helped me figure out how much square footage we’ll need based on the number of guests, how many guests we think will dance, the number of persons in the band, and so on.” She leaned forward to show David the charts.
Alison took a moment to close her eyes. She knew David wanted a great party, but if she had had to work with such numbers and graphs, she’d lose her mind. She took out her phone and tapped in a note to herself to buy something very special for Heather.
“Brie has typed up a mock program for your wedding. You both were going to decide on the processional music you’d like played, and also, I need you to go over the ceremony with me. You can take this home and make your decisions and email me. I’ll want to have it finalized within a week so I can have a program printed. Now, I need to be absolutely sure about this. You want the ceremony inside the tent, right?”
“Yes,” Alison answered. “That way, I won’t be fretting constantly about whether or not it’s going to rain, or worse, blow the way it did last September when hurricanes down south made the Nantucket winds powerful.” Also, Alison thought with a smile, she wanted to marry in the tent because it would have a floor, and she could wear her high heels and show off her great legs and not worry about sinking into the grass or sand.
“Great. Got it. Okay, if the weather’s good, everyone can go outside after the ceremony where tables of canapés will be set up on the lawn and waiters will have trays of champagne. If the weather’s bad, the after party could be held in the hotel’s library while round tables and chairs are set up in the tent for the dinner.”
“What about live music for the reception?” David asked.
“You asked for Coq Au Vin and they’ve signed on. And that’s it!” Heather said, clapping her hands on her lap.
Both dogs immediately sat at attention.
“Oh, sorry, sorry. Lie down, Charlie, Henry, false alarm.” Heather smiled. “They are so well trained—too well trained. David, Alison, do you have any questions?”
“I don’t,” Alison replied. “I might later, after I’ve studied all this. Heather, you are doing so much work. I’m so grateful.”
“Yes,” David said. “This is impressive. Thank you.”
Heather cleared her throat, and now she looked uncomfortable, troubled. “David, would it be possible for me to have a few moments to talk with you about…another matter?”
“Of course.”
“Would you like me to leave the room?” Alison asked, assuming Heather wanted to talk business.
“Yes,” Heather said, “well, no. I don’t know. It’s a personal matter…”
David touched Alison’s arm. “Stay.”
“It’s about Poppy,” Heather said reluctantly.
“Ah. Why am I not surprised,” David said. “Go on.”
“Please don’t think I’m telling tales or trying to cause problems. But I need some clear direction from you. Poppy does not want me to continue with the wedding organization. She said that it’s personal, not company, business. She told me to turn all this”—Heather gestured to the folders—“over to Alison. She said it is Alison’s task. That if Alison doesn’t want to do it, or can’t do it, she should hire a wedding planner to do it, to coordinate with Brie at the Wauwinet.”
Alison took a deep breath and looked down at her hands. Next to her, David’s body had tensed.
“I see,” David said at last. “Heather, I’m sorry you got caught in the middle like this. I’m still the head of the company, and I am continuing to task you with the responsibilities for planning the wedding. I’ll talk to Poppy about this as soon as possible.”
He hadn’t shouted, but iron had entered his voice. Alison thought he must sound like this during business negotiations.
“Good. Fine. Thank you, David.”
“Thank you, Heather.”
* * *
—
Felicity was so engrossed in scanning preschool sites and organizing dinner that she didn’t check her cell until late afternoon, when a friend dropped the kids home from camp and they rushed into the backyard to play. When she saw that Jane had left several messages, her pulse quickened. Something was wrong. She called her sister.
“Jane?”
“Felicity, something’s happened to Scott. I’m at the airport. I’m going to Wales,” Jane blurted. “Well, Manchester first. Then a train to Bangor. A rescue group called me. The head of the group, I mean. They’ve found Scott’s cellphone somewhere on Mount Snowdon, but no sign of Scott. They’ve checked with his hotel and he’s not there. Derfel Aberfa told me—”
“Derfel Aberfa?”
“It’s a Welsh name. He’s the man who phoned me. He told me he’d call if he had any other information, if they found David. He hasn’t called. It’s been over six hours and he hasn’t called. Felicity, I’m so frightened.”
Felicity could hear the fear in her sister’s voice. “Oh, Jane, this is so scary. But I’m sure Scott is okay. I’m sure he is. He’s an expert climber, you know that.”
“I do. I know. We were going to climb Mount Snowdon to prepare for climbing Mount Everest. Snowdon sounds like an easy climb, and it can be, but it’s also very tricky, fog can sweep in and block out all signs of trails, the wind can blow a person practically off a trail…”
“Jane. Jane! Listen. Do you want me to fly over and go with you?”
“Oh, Felicity, thank you.” Jane began to weep. “You’re so kind. No. No, not yet, maybe later, or maybe not. I just have to wait and see, don’t I? I mean, he is a good climber. We don’t know where he is, maybe he gave up and hiked back down and now he’s sitting in a pub having a beer and eating a sandwich.”
“But his cellphone…”
“Maybe he dropped it without noticing. That’s possible. Isn’t it? Isn’t it possible?”
“Yes, of course it’s possible. Jane, take some deep breaths for me now, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Tell me, have you eaten anything today?”
“Coffee. I’m running on coffee.”
“Eat something. Eat a doughnut. Carbs will calm you down.”
“You sound like Mother.”
“Well, I am a mother.”
Jane sobbed. “I’m not. Scott said he would divorce me so I could go have someone else’s baby.”
“Oh, Jane, no. He didn’t mean it. In the heat of the moment people say all sorts of stupid things.”
“Scott’s not like that. He’s not impulsive. He meant what he said, and that’s when I left him. But, Felicity, I love him more than I want children. I didn’t know it then, but I know it now. I wish I could make a bargain with God. If Scott is safe, I won’t ever talk about having children again.” Jane began to sob again.
It broke Felicity’s heart to hear Jane crying. “Oh, Jane. Oh, honey. Those bargains with God don’t always work, you know. I mean—I don’t know what I mean. Just go slowly, right? One step at a time. Don’t confuse everything. Scott didn’t fall because you want children. Maybe Scott didn’t even fall. Just take that train to Bangor—isn’t there a Bangor, Maine?”
“There is. It must have been settled by the Welsh.”
“Okay, well, go to Bangor, Wales, and talk to that nice mountain rescue man—golly, Jane, just think! If they sent a helicopter to rescue Scott, you might meet Prince William!”
Jane’s cries changed into a kind of choking laughter. “Felicity, only you would transform a possibility of death into an
opportunity to meet Prince William.”
Felicity smiled to herself. Her silliness had broken the flow of Jane’s fear. Only for a moment, maybe, but that was better than nothing.
“I wish we lived closer,” Felicity said.
“Well, so do I. But first, I need Scott to be alive.”
“Do you want me to call Mom?”
“I’ll call her now.”
“Okay. Please, let me know—day or night. I’ll come if you need me.”
“I love you, Felicity!”
“I love you, Jane!”
“Thanks, Felicity. I’ll call.”
* * *
—
Felicity sat on the sofa with her phone in her hand and stared at the coffee table. Yesterday she’d picked some dahlias from her garden and put them in a vase on the table. They were so colorful, red, orange, yellow. Closing her eyes, she said a prayer for Scott’s safety. You never know what will happen next, she thought, and the thought propelled her out of the living room and into the kitchen. She looked out the window and saw both children playing in the sprinkler. Felicity didn’t have a swimming pool like Ingrid’s, but she did have two beautiful children who were running and shrieking with glee through the curtain of rainbowed drops.
She checked the time on the clock on the stove. Crystal, the favorite babysitter, would be here any moment. Felicity wouldn’t be gone more than an hour. She had talked with Kat, the head of the Small Steps Preschool, and was going for an interview with her at five-fifteen. The beginning wage was fifteen dollars an hour. If Felicity worked forty hours a week, she would make six hundred dollars a week or twenty-four hundred dollars a month. She would be working when her children were in school, and best of all, Small Steps was on the same block as the elementary school. Kat had said it would be a plus in Felicity’s favor that she didn’t need benefits or health care coverage. Noah’s business took care of that.
Felicity wore a light summer dress and sturdy sandals. She’d put her long blond hair in a braid—somehow it seemed that a woman who worked with little children would have a braid. She wore only Burt’s Bees Lip Balm for makeup. She knew from taking care of Alice and Luke when they were small that she seldom had a free moment to even consider what she looked like.
