“Now who’s being cliché?” I interrupt.
He smiles. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Anyway, she’s a really great girl. Beautiful, athletic, sweet, and really smart.”
Get past the adjectives, buddy!
“We got along great, moved in together. Life was good. When I became an intern, we were on completely different schedules. It was rough. My second year, she decided it was time we got married. You know, the biological clock and all.”
I nod. I can’t talk.
“Anyway, she wanted to get married and have kids. She said it was a deal breaker. So that’s why we broke up.”
Check please!
“You don’t want to get married and have kids?” I ask him.
He squeezes my hand. “Of course I do, but it’s going to be years before I’m established. I can’t have a wife; much less even think about the responsibility of kids. Not right now.” He shakes his head for emphasis. “Absolutely no way.”
You look like a vision!” Fernando steps back to admire his handiwork. He has spent the last two hours working furiously on my hair and makeup for Daisy’s Memorial Fundraising Gala, which is set to begin in a couple of hours.
“You did an incredible job, Ferny. I love it and I love you.” I give him a squeeze and a European kiss on each cheek. I look back at the mirror and admire his work; he’s truly done a magnificent job. To go with my 1960s-inspired black strapless Armani Privé cocktail dress, he created a very Jackie O, voluminous French twist. As the finishing touch to the back of the “do,” he added my mother’s antique pearl and diamond broach, which makes an exquisite hair ornament.
“Did you know this belonged to my Grandma Rose’s grandmother? I think her name was Bessie. Mom loved it.” I feel a lump in my throat. “Ferny, I don’t know if I can go through with this.”
“What do you mean, honey?” He puts his arm around me.
“The memorial gala is going to make it too real. I guess part of me is still in denial, thinking she’s just on a book tour and will be back soon.” Tears well up in my eyes.
“Lily, don’t even think of crying. Your smoky eyes are going to be a puddle of mud running down your face. I did not work two hours for that!” His voice softens. “Look, I know, honey. It’s going to be an incredible evening, but not an easy one. But, like always, we’re in it together. And Lily, I have no doubt Mom is going to be in the room, making sure everything is Daisy-perfect!” He starts putting his assortment of brushes back into his large metal case.
“Do you really think that?” I ask him.
“Are you kidding, do I think that? I know it! We’ll feel her there, for sure. Trust me!”
He snaps the makeup case shut. “I better join Tommy in the guesthouse and change into my tuxedo. I’m sure by now he’s having a hissy fit trying to make sure his bowtie is—”
His words are drowned out by the deafening sound of at least three helicopters circling the farm.
Ferny opens the window and shouts, “Good morning, Vietnam!” We laugh. He closes the window. “They’re out in full force, aren’t they?”
“Uh-huh. They’re trying to get a good view for when the guests arrive. The place is going to be teeming with celebs tonight!” I tell him.
“Tommy texted me before that from the guest house; he can see the paparazzi swarming outside the gate. Well, I’m off to make myself beautiful. I’ll see you later, darling, in the tent.” He picks up his case, blows me a kiss, and leaves the room.
I look at the clock; it’ll be a good hour before any of the guests start to arrive.
I wonder when Robbie is going to show up. David was finally released from the hospital yesterday, and the brothers spent the night in the city in Robbie’s Upper West Side apartment. He joked that his place was so small the brothers would have to take turns sleeping. I’m glad they’ll both be at the event. After the gala, they’ll sleep over so that I can take them to the airport. Robbie is heading to Africa, and David home to Texas to recuperate.
I am going to miss Robbie terribly; just sleeping apart from him last night was lonely. I can’t imagine not having him here with me for the next nine months. Now that he is about to leave, I’m going to be forced to deal with the reality of my Mom’s death and my pregnancy. I have so many decisions to make, but I keep pushing them out of my mind, thinking I’ll just wait until Robbie leaves. Now that time is almost here, and I am dreading it.
I think about my conversation with Robbie, the one about having children, and I know there’s a very good possibility that he will opt out of the relationship when he finds out about my pregnancy. My mind is made up, however, that I will absolutely speak to him later this evening, when we’re alone. I have to. It’s only right. I also know that soon I’ll have to call Jamie to tell him.
I walk downstairs and find the kitchen a beehive of activity in preparation for the night ahead. The house is filled with the aroma of the savory dishes that Barbara’s brilliant chefs are creating. Pots and pans are clanging and there are so many champagne bottles being opened that it sounds like a popcorn machine.
I feel sick. I run outside to get some fresh air. I force myself to calm down and take a deep breath. How can I possibly go through with the evening ahead, laugh, eat, dance? What was I thinking, suggesting this? My beautiful, vibrant mother is now reduced to a pile of ashes in a silver urn.
Is Fernando right? Will she really be there in spirit?
Mama, please give me a sign tonight that you’re with me.
I look up at the thousands of tiny stars scattered across the night sky. Some are brilliant, some are twinkling, some are faded. The sky is vast, and I am merely a dot in the universe; detached, tumbling around and around without any connection or protection. It is cold.
When I get close to the tent, the party in full swing. Hundreds of voices collide; high-pitched laughter punctuates each undistinguishable sentence. The aggressive mixture of flowery perfumes burns my nostrils as I walk into the tent. I squint because the room takes on a strobe-light effect from the nonstop flashes of the cameras.
I stand outside the tent and look in as if I’m watching a movie. The crowd becomes an undertow that drags me inside.
Donna grabs my arm. “We wanted the décor to reflect Daisy’s taste—elegant without ever forgetting her farm roots.” She steers me to the perimeter. “Isn’t the tent simply amazing? It is the absolute biggest one they had. It is handmade by a family-owned company in New England. They’re sixth-generation sail makers.”
My eyes are finally able to focus. I see that the ceiling is made of yards and yards of draped ivory tufted silk. The many round tables are covered in white cotton with umber-colored silk overlays.
“And Lily, to emphasize the rustic element, the chairs and the serving tables are made of hand-sawed, reclaimed barn wood. Isn’t that brilliant and so Daisy?”
I am still staring at the ceiling. Hanging in the middle of the tent are six crystal chandeliers that cast a beautiful and eerie reflection on the gold shell flatware, delicate bontanica-patterned china, and gold Queen Anne chargers. In anticipation of the first champagne toast, the amethyst Baccarat flutes are filled to the brim.
I smile when I see the flowers on the tables. Within the finely crafted arrangements are day lilies, daisies, and roses. Was this intentional? Am I the only one who understands the significance? These flowers represent three generations of women in my family. I vow to do my best to honor my strong grandmother and my mother by being as resilient as I can. I look around. The thousands of twinkling lights create a magical, almost fairytale, ambiance.
Straight Ahead the Band is up on the white marble stage, playing a jazz tune. Next to the microphone is a poster-sized framed photo of my mother. She is laughing; the camera has caught her image just as a gust of wind tousles her long brown hair.
Donna is still talking. She stops mid-sentence. “You’re not listening to a word I’m saying.”
I feel bad. Auntie D. had gone to so much trouble and
planned every detail and I wasn’t even paying attention. So then I did what I do best—act.
“Oh, everything is amazing, really. I’m just taking it all in.”
Ronald Winters, one of the muckety-mucks from Mom’s publishing company, walks up to us. “Lily, I cannot begin to tell you how sorry Greta and I are. A tragic loss.”
I thank him and walk into the deep end. The crowd envelops me. One after another, guests come over to me to tell me how sorry they are, what a heartbreak it is. Some even tell me that my Mom is in a better place. I want to scream, “What the fuck? Better place, how the hell can you say that to me? A better place is in the living room on her favorite chair doing the crossword puzzle, where she belongs. That is a better place.”
Instead, I smile and thank everyone for coming to honor my mother. Out of the corner of my eye, I see two extremely handsome guys heading toward me.
“You look beautiful.” Robbie kisses me on the cheek.
David does the same and says, “I keep telling him that good looks run in our family, right sis?”
“Well, I have to admit, you two are the hottest guys in the whole place.” David looks great in his tuxedo, but Robbie is a modern-day Cary Grant. He puts all these actors to shame, and the best thing is that he doesn’t have a clue.
Robbie moves in closer to me and asks, “How are you holding up?”
“I’ve been better.” He nods. I feign a smile and say, “But now that my favorite guys are here—”
“I’d like everyone to please take your seats.” Donna is on stage and the memorial portion of the event is about to begin.
There is controlled chaos as everyone looks for the number on the table that coincides with the number written on their personalized escort card. I take David and Robbie’s hands and walk with them over to the head table. Fernando, Tommie, Theresa, Pete, and Franny are already seated there.
When people takes their seats, Donna begins. “I want to welcome everyone tonight. We all know why we’re here: to honor my oldest and dearest friend, Daisy Lockwood.” She chokes back a tear. “Tonight is not about mourning, although we will all miss her terribly. Tonight is a time for us to remember how wonderful she was, and to celebrate her life. Which is what she would want, wouldn’t she?” Everyone agrees. “I would first like to call up her daughter, Lily, to say a few words.”
I look at Robbie. He smiles encouragingly. My knees are shaking as I head across the floor. I’ve been on stage before, in front of thousands of people. But never have I been this nervous. I want to do the right thing, to honor my mother. Our lives come down to one moment, a moment where you have to encapsulate someone’s whole life. It is of utmost importance that I say the right thing.
I walk up the few steps to the stage, and as clear as day, I hear Daisy’s voice in my head.
“Lily of the Valley, just speak from that sweet heart of yours. The rest will take care of itself.”
“On behalf of my brother David and myself…” A murmur flows through the crowd, which I totally expected, since only a couple of people even know that David exists. I smile down at him, and he smiles back. “…I would like to thank you all so very much for coming tonight.” I look at my notes briefly. “In my life, I’ve been extremely lucky, but I am most fortunate to have had Daisy Lockwood as my mother. I couldn’t have asked for a more supportive, loving Mom. She was everything to me. Life with Daisy was an adventure a minute. She found joy and fun in the simplest things. She taught me, by example, how to achieve what you want in life, while always remembering to be generous and loving. She also taught me that everyone should be treated with decency and respect. I don’t know what I’m going to do in a world without her in it—I just can’t imagine…”
My hand start to shake and I can’t stop the tears. Donna hands me a tissue and I take a deep breath.
“A year ago, my mother read a poem by Mary Frye at my grandmother’s funeral. I never thought that in such a short time, I would be doing the same.” I start to cry as I read the poem:
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
I walk off the stage and look around at all of the people who have gathered to honor my mother. I hope her spirit is here tonight, to see and to hear how much everyone adores her. I cross the room and I can’t believe my eyes! Jamie is sitting at one of the tables toward the back of the tent. We make eye contact; I quickly look away and walk straight to my table. I am shaken. I sit down and listen to my mother’s friends one after another recount heartwarming and funny stories about her. When Fernando gets up to go to the men’s room, I slide into his seat, next to Theresa.
I whisper, “Jamie’s here.”
Theresa does not seem at all surprised. “I thought he might come.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, stunned.
“I didn’t know for sure. Since it’s a charity event, Harvey bought the table. He spent a fortune. I wasn’t sure which people he would invite. I really thought Jamie would have more sense than to show up. Oh my God, did Nasty Natty come?”
As if on cue, we both whip around and crane our necks to look at his table. So much for being discreet. The seats are all taken. Jamie is sitting next to his costar Bobbie. With them are Harvey and Mitzi and four other people I don’t recognize.
“He’s got some nerve,” I whisper.
“Yeah, he does. But he thinks he’s in love. Who knows, maybe he is.”
I feel like my eyes are going to bug out of my head. “How can you say that to me? After everything he put me through.”
“Because it’s true. He’s been speaking to me and even though he’s a little fucking cheat, I believe he’s sorry. It’s a messy life, and a short one.” She nods toward my Mom’s photo on stage. “Give him a chance to speak, don’t give him a chance to speak—it’s up to you. At least he wanted to come.”
“Too little, too late. He ruined us.” I move in closer. “Anyway, I’m with someone.”
Now it’s time for her eyes to bug out. I nod discreetly in Robbie’s direction. She nods her head, indicating she understands.
“I should have known. He seems like a good guy. Like I said, Lily Girl, it’s a messy life. The next move is all yours.”
Fernando returns and I move back to my seat. I continue to listen to Mom’s friends talk about her. The Jamie Pain has made a grand comeback and it feels like his unborn child is kicking the very shit out of it. I need to go to the ladies room. I avoid the fancy Porta-Potties that are set up near the tent and head up the hill to the house.
Halfway there, someone touches me on the shoulder. “Wow, someone chasing you? You’re in a big rush.” Jamie laughs apprehensively.
“What do you want, Jamie?” I’m angry. What gall he has to show his face here.
“I just need to talk to you.”
“This is not the time or the place,” I say. “And there is nothing to talk about, Jamie.”
He moves closer to me and says, “Babe, I’m really sorry about your Mom. Truly I am.”
Tears spring to my eye. I am now angry at myself and at the way my heart betrays me.
He senses my hesitation, and like a drowning man who gets thrown a life preserver as he goes under for the last time, grabs it with both hands. “I fucked up, babe. I know that. You gotta give me another chance.” His words are coming out machine-gun fast. “I love you. We had a life together—a good life. Don’t throw it away.” He puts his hands on my shoulder. I can see there are tears in his eyes.
I shrug off h
is hands. “I didn’t throw it away, Jamie. You did. You threw me away. Now leave, Jamie. I mean it. I don’t want you here.”
With that I walk away, praying to God he doesn’t follow me. He doesn’t. I get to the house and practically run into the bathroom. I lock the door behind me, relieved to be alone. This feels vaguely familiar, and I remember the night of Harvey’s party when I locked myself in the bathroom after Jamie punched a hole in the wall. I take a few breaths to calm myself down. He will not do this to me again. I am not running away and hiding in the bathroom, like some scared girl. I fix my hair and makeup and go back out to the tent.
I return to my seat next to Robbie. He leans in to me. “You okay, honey?”
I tell him I’m fine. I take his hand under the table and turn my attention to the stage. When the speeches are over, Donna invites everyone to enjoy the rest of the evening, just as Daisy would have wanted.
During dinner, we all notice that David is drinking a lot. As soon as he finishes one martini, he literally grabs the waitress by the arm and demands another.
“Hey, slow down there, cowboy,” Robbie says, pointing to the newest martini that the waitress just slammed down in front of David.
“I’m fine, you worry about yourself,” David says, and downs his drink.
While her band is playing onstage, Donna takes her place at our table.
“Can you believe how incredible this is?” she asks, referring to what everyone said about my mother.
We all talk about how amazing the night has been so far. I look around. Some people are dancing, others eating, still others walking around mingling. Exactly what my mother would have wanted. I stand up, raise my glass of sparkling water, and say to everyone at the table, “I just want to thank everyone here for all your love and support. I don’t know what I would do without you. The last weeks—this event—everything. I love you all. Let’s toast to my mother!” Everyone clinks glasses.
Paul asks Theresa to dance and they leave the table. Donna turns to David. “So how about it, feel like giving an old lady a couple of turns on the dance floor?”
The Seeds Of A Daisy: The Lily Lockwood Series: Book One (Women's Fiction) Page 26
