by Kate White
And then once again, there’s a tinkle of metal on glass, but this time it’s Nick who rises out of his seat.
“I want to express what I know we’re all feeling right now,” he says, grinning ear to ear. “Blake, we still have no idea in the world how you ended up as a dermatologist, and, man, a golfer to boot, but we love you to death and are incredibly happy for you and Wendy. And since this seems to be a good night for announcements, I have one to make myself. Or rather, Hannah and I do.”
The bottom falls out of my stomach. This can’t be happening. Everyone at the table seems to freeze, lips parted, utensils in midair.
“I know this may come as a surprise to everyone,” he continues, “and in some ways it’s even a surprise to me. But sometimes good things come at you when you least expect them.”
He pauses and I hold my breath.
“I’ve asked Hannah to marry me, and to my delight she’s said yes.”
6
What follows is a nearly deafening silence, except for the sound of Bella’s snorting as she noses around under the table. None of us appear to be breathing, let alone speaking. I steal a glance at Gabe, who’s staring right at Nick, his expression blank, but from the infinitesimal, telltale wrinkle of his brow it’s clear that the news has stunned him.
Though I manage to pick my stomach up off the ground, it quickly starts to roil. My adorable, charming brother-in-law, the kid brother I never had, is planning to marry a woman he’s known for only two months. And who might be a thief, and possibly a sociopath. Which means my life with my in-laws—every future family dinner at Gabe’s parents’ apartment, every group weekend out here, every family vacation—is about to be irrevocably altered by her presence.
Nick has remained on his feet, and he’s looking uncharacteristically flustered now, as if he has no idea why he’s left a patio full of people dumbfounded. Hannah appears flustered, too. Her triumphant smile has begun to contract, like ice before it starts to crack.
“Gosh,” he says. “I think this might be the only time in my life that the Keatons have been at a loss for words. I’m sure it’s in part because Hannah and I only met two months ago. But in that short period, we’ve spent every possible moment together, and we know what we’ve got is very special.”
Someone clears his throat. I watch as Ash reaches for his wineglass and slowly raises it.
“It is a bit of a shock, Nick, but we love you, and of course we’re very pleased for both of you,” he says. “We wish you great happiness and look forward to getting to know Hannah better over the coming months—and years.”
“Hear, hear,” Gabe says once more tonight, though this time there’s a catch in his voice. He awkwardly raises his own glass in salute, and I notice Blake and Wendy do the same, both of them smiling politely. Obviously, they’re still in the afterglow of their baby announcement.
“Thank you so much everyone,” Hannah says. “I couldn’t love Nick more, and I’m thrilled to be joining this amazing family.”
There are a few more “Hear hears,” and I notice Keira raise her own glass. I’m unable to see either Marcus or Claire, though as far as I know, they’re following suit. But I can’t bring myself to fake it. Instead I lean down toward Henry, as if I’m answering another question of his.
“So you know what this means, right?” I whisper to him.
“Uncle Nick’s getting married?”
“Yup.”
“Oh. Wow.”
“Yeah, wow.”
To keep from having to look up, I go out of my way to help Henry, using a fork to slide chicken and veggies off the second kabob stick on his plate. I hear Blake ask Nick and Hannah if they’ve set a date yet.
“Not yet,” Nick replies. Thank god for small favors. “We need to determine what Hannah’s shooting schedule will be once the show is picked up. And we still need to go ring shopping.”
“Are you from this part of the country, Hannah?” Ash asks.
“No, Miami, actually,” she replies. “Sadly, my parents both passed away, but I have a wonderful sister, and I’m looking forward to introducing Nick to her.”
“Well, we look forward to meeting her, as well,” Ash says.
“You all set with food?” I murmur to Henry, still awarding him my full attention.
“Yeah.” He wrinkles his little brow, looking like Gabe as he does it, and stares down the length of the table. Then he presses his mouth so tightly against my ear that it tickles. “Can I ask you another question?”
“Of course.” Please, I think, give me something else to do. Tell me you’re tired and you want me to take you up to bed and read you a story. I don’t want to be here for one more second.
“Does Gee wish Uncle Nick wasn’t doing it?”
“Why—?” But instead of finishing, I lift my head and follow his gaze to the other end of the table, where my mother-in-law is now in my line of sight, standing and holding up the bowl of potato salad.
“Who’d like more?” she asks. “Anyone?”
She’s smiling, but I can tell, just as Henry obviously can, that she’s pasted it on, using only the muscles around her mouth and not her eyes. She’s not happy about this turn in events, not in the least, despite whatever bonding she did with Hannah during their ladies’ garden tour.
I look toward Gabe next, and finally we lock eyes. Part of me expects an expression that says, You were right, we’ve got major trouble here. But all he does is smile wanly.
The potato salad bowl ends up being passed down the table, with no one taking seconds, and the conversation shifts awkwardly to how delicious the meal is.
Then, miraculously, from off in the distance, there’s a muted rumble of thunder, and seconds later a couple of fat drops of rain plop onto the table. A mad scramble ensues as we all grab plates, bowls, and utensils, and Bonnie and her helper rush out to assist us. In theater it’s called deus ex machina, or “god from the machine,” a plot device once frequently used by ancient Greek and Roman playwrights whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem in a story is suddenly and abruptly resolved by an unexpected and seemingly unlikely occurrence. No respectable modern play relies on one, but right now all I can do is be grateful.
At first everyone ends up in the kitchen, setting plates and platters onto countertops, but then Claire and Bonnie herd us all out of the room, promising that coffee and dessert will be served shortly.
We cluster in the large living room, a space decorated invitingly in cream, mint, and lavender and featuring vases of Claire’s flowers on several surfaces. After realizing that Gabe is missing in action, I check the long corridor that runs perpendicular to the main hall, poking my head into the den but not seeing him there. I finally locate him on the screened porch at the east end of the house, staring out at the rain.
“Hey,” I say, coming up next to him. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I guess.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “It’s just a lot to digest.”
There’s almost a pulse to his unease, I realize, one I can practically feel. Good, maybe he’s finally catching on to how big of an issue the Nick-Hannah romance is.
“Did you have any sense this was coming?” I ask.
“Of course not. I would have told you.”
“Gabe, it wasn’t an accusation. I was just wondering whether in hindsight you realize there were hints he was this serious.”
“No, there weren’t. I mean, he’s clearly besotted—you couldn’t miss that from the International Space Station—but I’ve seen him that way before.”
“How do you think your parents feel? Your mom seems to be putting on a brave face, but something tells me she’s pretty dismayed.”
He shrugs. “They know Nick’s a smart guy—my dad wouldn’t have brought him into the business otherwise. But they’re also aware that in his personal life, he doesn’t always think things through.”
“Is there some way to convince him to take his time?”
“I’m not sure of the best tack.” He’
s continued to face the lawn as we’ve been speaking, but he turns now in my direction. “But I’ll tell you what’s not going to help? Stuff like looking totally bummed and refusing to join a toast in their honor.”
He’s right, I know. “I’m sorry. I’m just not any good at pretending I’m happy about this.”
“I thought you were an actress.”
“That’s a cheap shot, Gabe,” I say as anger flares in me.
“Agreed. Sorry. But we’re all going to have to fake it for now. And who knows? Maybe it will turn out better than we imagine. My parents only knew each other six months before they were married, and look how well that’s worked—”
“Wait, you really think the issue is that Nick and Hannah haven’t had enough time to get to know each other? And not that she’s untrustworthy?”
Even in the dusky light, I see the muscles of his face tense.
“Summer, let’s not get into that again, okay? Like I told you before, I’m not giving any credence to something based on hearsay . . . . I think we’d better show our faces in there or else we’re going to seem totally rude.”
I’m still bristling, but I don’t want to make things any worse tonight than they already are, so I nod and start for the interior of the house. Gabe suddenly pulls me close and kisses the top of my head.
“Babe, I know you care about Nick, and you don’t want anything bad to happen to him. But let’s give them a chance, okay?”
“Sure.”
I follow him back down the corridor toward the sound of voices, ending up in the dining room this time. Everyone’s milling around the table, where there are two large stoneware baking dishes with blueberry crumble and a huge bowl of vanilla ice cream for topping. Claire still seems to be in the kitchen, though, and I don’t see Marcus, either.
By now I’ve lost my appetite, and fruit crumble sounds about as appealing as a plateful of hair, but I join Gabe at the table, where a short line has formed. Henry’s at the front and has already managed to secure himself a piece of the crumble and top it with a giant mound of ice cream.
“Buddy, let me help you carry that into the living room,” Gabe tells him.
As they depart the room, I drift toward the coffee carafes on the sideboard. Hannah, I notice, is already serving herself a tiny sliver of crumble. As she rounds the far end of the table, dessert plate in one hand and coffee mug in the other, she glances backward and for the first time since the announcement, we make eye contact. She stares, as if daring me to look away—which I finally do—before she goes to sit with her fiancé.
Soon, Keira and I are the only ones left in the dining room, both serving ourselves coffee. She looks even more pensive than normal.
“Where’s Marcus?” I ask.
“Already in bed. He felt a cold coming on, and he wants to see if he can nip it in the bud.”
“Good idea,” I say, though I can’t help but wonder if what’s really bothering him is the idea of his twin marrying a woman he might still have the hots for.
“Of course,” Keira says, lowering her voice, “if there are any more big announcements, I’ll have to run up and get him.”
“I think two is all I can handle in one evening.”
“I’m thrilled for Wendy, of course. But I don’t know what to make about the other . . . thing. Do you?”
“No,” I tell her. “But they seem really happy so hopefully it will all work out.”
See, I can behave. And when I want to be, I’m a damn good actress.
“What worries me, though, is that it’s a distraction,” Keira says. The thin fissure above the bridge of her nose deepens. “And Marcus and Gabe need to have Ash in full focus mode.”
“You think it will get in the way of them talking business?”
“I’m sure Ash will sit down with them—he promised he would—but if he’s preoccupied with all this family stuff, he may not want to discuss the loan.”
The loan? This is total news to me. Gabe’s assured me that the business is nicely in the black these days, so I don’t know why there’d be any need for a loan. Maybe they’re just trying to secure a promise of investment money down the road. Either way, I haven’t heard a word about it and I don’t know why.
“Right, the loan,” I say. “Well, I’m sure Ash will be able to focus. That’s his middle name.”
She nods and glances into the living room, where Henry is now demonstrating one of his dozen or so card tricks. “I guess we should join them.”
“I’ll be right in,” I tell her, but after she leaves, I linger, slowly stirring my coffee and hoping Claire might emerge shortly. Is she as upset as she looked?
She doesn’t appear, but the clanging sounds coming from the kitchen have subsided, meaning the cleanup must be nearly complete. I push open the swinging door and step in to find my mother-in-law by herself, sitting at the island and scribbling on a pad. The rain’s stopped by now, and through the screened windows I hear the thud of a garbage bag being dropped into the big trash bin, followed by the murmur of voices. Bonnie and her helper must be headed out for the night.
“Hello, darling,” Claire says, glancing up. “Do you need something?”
“No, I was just wondering where you were. Are you going to join us?”
“In a minute, yes. I need to make a few notes for tomorrow.”
There’s nothing about her tone or demeanor to suggest that she’s particularly distressed, though I spot the same tension in her face I noticed earlier, and the rims of her eyes seem pinker than usual, not quite as if she’s been crying but like she’s on high alert. And of course, there’s the fact that she’s in here, and not with the rest of the family.
“Notes?”
“Just some reminders for Bonnie tomorrow. Everything going smoothly in the other room?”
“It seems so. Henry’s entertaining the troops with sleights of hand.”
She sets down the pen and smiles again, this time with her eyes, too, like she’s finally registering that I’m in the room.
“Nick introduced Henry to magic, of course,” she says, “but I know you’re the one who bought him those books and really encouraged his interest. That was so great of you to do.”
“It was my pleasure—and Gabe and I get such a kick out of watching him.”
“It’s exactly what we need tonight, isn’t it? A bit of misdirection.”
Is she hinting that she wants to be distracted from the surprise engagement? Sounds like it.
“I certainly need it,” I say, despite my promise to Gabe to cease and desist about Hannah. “I . . . I feel worried about Nick. Making such a, you know, hasty decision.”
She sighs, without losing her smile. “I so appreciate your concern, Summer dear. That’s one of the many things I love about you. But no need to worry. I think this will—how shall I put it?—run its course.”
“You don’t think they’ll get married?” I say, surprised by her comment.
“I don’t. Just between us, I have Hannah’s number. I’ve had it almost since the moment our little USC graduate arrived.”
I stare at her, shocked by the revelation. I also note the emphasis she put on USC. What could she mean by that?
“So . . . ?”
“Let’s just bide our time for the moment, shall we?” She scoots her stool back so that it makes a scraping sound on the wooden floor. “Now, why don’t we go see some magic?”
Claire and I watch with the others. Thank god for the show. Because other than Henry’s instructions and the “oohs” and “aahs” from the crowd when he completes each trick, no one is saying a word.
“Okay, Hen, let’s save a few for the rest of the week,” Gabe tells him eventually.
The performer takes his leave, accepting a final round of applause, before Gabe ushers him upstairs, with me tagging along.
After tucking Henry into bed, we return downstairs, bid the others good night, and set off on the path to the cottage. It’s wet and shiny from the rain and glows here and
there where the toadstool-shaped fixtures along the way reflect light onto the flagstone.
“You going to bed?” Gabe asks once we’re inside the cottage.
“Yeah, guess so,” I say and start to head up the stairs. “I’m pretty tired.”
I’m still rattled, too, not only from the engagement drama, but also from what Keira revealed about the loan. I want to ask Gabe about it, but that’s a discussion best tabled until the morning.
“Me, too,” he says, following me up.
After quickly stripping off his clothes, he slides into bed and looks up at me. “You ended up speaking to my mom, I noticed. Did she say anything of note?”
Because of my promise to butt out, I’m hardly going to tell him we talked about Hannah, and besides, Claire said it was “between us.”
“No, nothing in particular,” I say, slipping into bed next to him. “But like I said earlier, she didn’t look thrilled.”
“Well, you know my mom. There’s nothing she can’t handle.”
Based on how annoyed Gabe seemed earlier, I’m surprised when he moves closer and snuggles up to me. Within a couple of minutes, I hear his breathing deepen.
I try to will myself to sleep, but my mind refuses to quiet. It would have been wrong to betray his mother’s confidence, and yet I’m uncomfortable hiding something from Gabe. But given how unwilling he is to accept the truth about Hannah and consider the impact she’s going to have on Nick, I’m not sure I’d get through to him anyway.
I keep circling back to my conversation with Claire. She claimed to have Hannah’s number, but what does that mean exactly? Has she discovered more about Hannah than I already know myself? Our little USC graduate, she’d said. Could she mean that Hannah lied about going there?
Finally, too exhausted to ruminate any further, I drift off to sleep. But then I’m awake again, stirring as I feel Gabe slipping back into bed.
“Everything okay?” I mumble.
“Yeah, I was just getting some water.”
I’m thirsty, too, I realize, and head down to the kitchen a minute later, where the clock tells me it’s 1:30 A.M. As I’m filling a glass with ice water, I jerk in surprise at a movement I hear on the other side of the front door.
