A Wedding on the Beach

by Holly Chamberlin

  Bess felt a bit sick again. “Have you accepted yet?” she asked.

  “Of course not, not without talking with you first.”

  Bess shook her head. “Give me a minute, okay?” she asked. “I need to think.”

  Nathan nodded.

  A million questions flooded Bess’s mind. What was she supposed to do? Close down her company for two years? Turn her back on her hard-won career? Could she and Nathan survive a long-distance marriage? But Bess didn’t want to live apart from Nathan. It was tough enough negotiating the distance from Boston to Portland. They were on the cusp of promising to love each other in good times and in bad, till death did them part. Commitment was not about a Knight in Shining Armor and a Princess in a pretty dress. It was about the mundane. It was about putting up with a million little annoyances, as well as celebrating each other’s million little successes.

  Bess swallowed hard. Was she really equipped for a real-life romance?

  “Look, Bess,” Nathan ventured. “I’m willing to turn down the promotion if you’re against it. To be honest, it would negatively affect my career, but our relationship is worth more to me. A lot more.”

  “I believe you,” Bess said quietly. But could she ask Nathan to make such a sacrifice? One thing Bess knew for sure. One or the other of them was going to have to budge or the relationship would be over before it had really gotten started. Nathan was willing to give up the transfer and promotion. But was she as willing to make such a large a sacrifice for him? What would it say about their future as a married couple if she wasn’t at least willing to give this unexpected adventure a try? Being willing didn’t mean it would come to pass, Bess noted. She could say sure, I’ll go with you to Stockholm and Nathan could decide the transfer wasn’t worth the risks it involved, but if she did agree to the move she would have to mean what she said. There would be no going back on her word. None.

  “How long have you known about the promotion and transfer?” she said finally.

  “It became official only yesterday, but I got wind of the possibility a few weeks ago,” Nathan admitted.

  “Why didn’t you tell me when you first heard the rumors?” Bess asked.

  Nathan ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to cause you anxiety over something that might not actually come to pass. Not with the wedding coming up.”

  Bess thought. What if Nathan had waited until they were married before telling her about Stockholm? That would have been underhanded. Nathan was not underhanded. “Okay,” she said. “It’s just . . . wow.”

  Quand-même. I was afraid, but I did it anyway. Courage was admitting to being afraid but doing what had to be done nonetheless. Courage sounded scary. Bess almost laughed at the inanity of that thought. Almost.

  Nathan sighed and gathered Bess in his arms. She did not pull away.

  Chapter 62

  Dinner would be delayed that evening. Bess had seen a sign for a flash sale at one of the arty boutiques in Kennebunkport and was determined to—as Marta’s mother might say—“do some damage.” Marta had no desire to go along, but Bess had insisted and often it was easier to give in to Bess’s enthusiasm than to fight it.

  While Allison and Bess browsed, tried on hats and jewelry, exclaimed over expensively priced housewares, and chatted with other enthusiastic customers, Marta wandered, feeling very out of place in all sorts of ways she couldn’t quite name. Okay. She could name one. Her mom jeans and oversized blouse were a far cry from the stylish summer outfits worn by the shop’s staff and the potential buyers.

  How many of those potential buyers—all women, as it happened—earned their own money? How many of them had careers, owned businesses, lived on the profits of their own smart investments or retirement savings?

  Marta fought a sudden urge to dash from the shop. Only the knowledge that such behavior would put a damper on her friends’ shopping expedition restrained her, so she wandered on, absorbed by thoughts of her sorry predicament. Here she was complaining that this fourth and unplanned pregnancy was interfering in her plans for a career, but in fact there were no plans. She had done little real thinking about what she might actually do with her life. She had not even begun to brainstorm. She had not sought out an organization that helped people reenter the workforce. She had done nothing but dream.

  And now? Say she could somehow find the energy to build her own life while she was raising another child along with Sam, Leo, and Troy, she still had to find the focus. She might have to go back to school to earn a degree. She would need to learn how to interview; she would need to learn what clothes were appropriate for interviews. She would need to upgrade her computer skills and become more familiar with social media platforms. Platforms? She would need to learn a new language, if not several new languages, those of contemporary culture and gender equality and . . .

  “See anything you like?” It was Bess.

  “Not really,” Marta lied. There was a silk tunic she had admired for about thirty seconds before moving on. It was handmade; the quality was extraordinary. As was the price.

  “Oh, come on, Marta,” Bess urged. “Splurge for once! You’ve always been so frugal. I remember back in college you used to get two or three cups out of a tea bag because you didn’t want to be ‘extravagant.’ ”

  Marta remembered, too. The third cup was always tasteless.

  Without waiting for a reply, Bess darted off toward a display of dangling earrings. Marta couldn’t remember the last time she had worn dangling earrings. Maybe she never had.

  She sighed and moved on through the beautifully curated shop. She knew there were small steps she could take to make starting out less daunting. She could read the better women’s magazines; absorb the information on websites devoted to working mothers; read blogs written by women who had launched careers after years of being a stay-at-home parent. All Marta had to do was to take that first step....

  A burst of laughter caused Marta to turn in the direction of a display of mirrors in hand-painted frames. Bess was engaged in lively conversation with another customer. Marta might tease Bess for all sorts of behaviors, but she could never deny that her old friend was a successful, self-made businesswoman. Something Marta was not.

  She wandered back toward the attractive tunic. She had never felt so aimless; maybe all she was good enough for was to have babies and raise kids. She knew she was being dramatic—she would die of shame should any of her friends discover her thoughts—and she knew that to underestimate the talents and skills required to be a good parent was foolish.

  Marta gently touched the silk tunic. She was strongly tempted to buy it. It was so beautiful. She hadn’t had anything so beautiful in years. No, she told herself automatically. I don’t need it. I don’t deserve it. There are better ways to spend my money. The money Mike earned.

  “It would look lovely on you.”

  Marta turned to find Allison just behind her. And it wouldn’t fit in a few months, Marta thought. And when it did fit again, if that time ever came, where would she wear it? To the playground? The grocery store? A PTA meeting?

  “Maybe.” Marta shrugged. “Getting anything?” she asked.

  Allison indicated a small shopping bag in her left hand. “Already did.”

  Marta was relieved when fifteen minutes later she and her friends finally climbed into Bess’s car and headed back to Driftwood House.

  “Retail therapy,” Bess proclaimed from behind the wheel. “There’s nothing like it!”

  From the backseat, Allison laughed. “You said it!”

  Marta, in the front passenger seat, looked out the window and frowned.

  Chapter 63

  They didn’t sit down to dinner until almost eight. Mike looked as if he were truly suffering, though Allison thought it just possible that he had fortified himself with a snack while the women were out. Men like Mike knew full well how to feed themselves when someone wasn’t around to make them a balanced meal.

  “What did
you buy?” Dean asked, passing the bowl of green beans in a spicy sauce. Nathan had brought in food from a new Sichuan restaurant and it was proving a hit.

  Bess regaled everyone with the story of her many purchases. “And I know I’ll get a lot of wear out of the chandelier earrings with the polki diamonds,” she said of her most expensive purchase. “They never go out of style.”

  “What about you, Allison?” Chuck asked.

  Allison, mindful of her new financial situation, had exercised restraint. But she had treated herself to one special item. “I bought a blown-glass pendant in the shape of a cat. Okay, I know! I might be becoming a cat lady. It’s all the doing of that big gray feline that’s been hanging around.”

  “He’s a beauty,” Dean confirmed.

  “And you, Marta?” Nathan asked. “What caught your eye?”

  Marta shrugged. “Nothing,” she said.

  “I never have to worry about Marta spending money on herself,” Mike announced. “She’s the least wasteful person I know. And the most self-disciplined.”

  Marta did not respond to these compliments. Allison wondered if she had even heard them. Marta’s expression was blank.

  “My mother is the same way,” Chuck said. “She considers money spent on herself foolish spending.”

  “Buying a gift for yourself isn’t in the least bit foolish,” Dean protested. “At least, that’s what my mother taught me.”

  “We tried to persuade Marta to buy a lovely silk tunic she had her eye on,” Bess informed the others, “but she refused.”

  Mike turned to his wife. “You should have bought it, if you really liked it,” he said earnestly.

  “I didn’t like it enough to spend four hundred dollars,” Marta said almost angrily.

  “All this talk about money is reminding me of how much I hated economics in college.” Chuck shook his head. “I barely passed the introductory course. I really tried, but something just didn’t click for me.”

  “You loved economics, didn’t you?” Bess asked Marta.

  Marta nodded. “It came easily.”

  “Not to me,” Allison added. “I’m with Chuck. Something just didn’t click. I failed the mid-term exam miserably.”

  Mike laughed. “Marta never didn’t ace a test! It was as if she couldn’t do poorly on an exam if she tried.”

  Allison thought she saw Marta flinch at this praise.

  “Marta, did you ever consider being a teacher?” Bess asked.

  “Why?” Marta snapped.

  “I don’t know. Because you seemed to get school so easily. Like being a student was second nature. Maybe being a teacher would also have been easy for you.”

  “No,” Marta stated. “I never considered it.”

  Dean frowned. “Teachers don’t get the respect they deserve. I mean: Those who can’t do, teach. Really? That sort of attitude is infuriatingly prevalent, even today.”

  “Marta could have been anything she wanted to be, a lawyer, a doctor, a Wall Street wizard.” Mike looked proudly at his wife. “She’s smart enough and once she sets her mind to something, look out!”

  Allison took a sip of wine. Was it just her or did the others think Mike was being overly effusive in his praise of his wife? Not that Mike didn’t take genuine pride in her accomplishments.

  “Chris was good at economics, as well,” Bess was saying. “And math. Well, he would have to be good at math to be a successful architect.”

  “At one point, he considered going on for an advanced degree in mathematics,” Allison said with a smile. “But his creative side won out and architecture it was.” It felt good, Allison realized, not to cringe at the mention of Chris’s name or to feel compelled to insult the man she had once loved so dearly.

  Once? The man she still loved. The man she would always love. That’s just the way it was.

  “I lived at home and commuted to campus,” Nathan was saying. “That might have had something to do with my not forming as tightly knit a group of friends as you all did. I’m still in touch with two of my friends from college, but not very often.”

  “I did live on campus,” Dean said, “but for some reason none of my college friendships lasted. I’m closest now to a kid I was friends with in grammar school. When Jason and I get together it’s like no time has passed since we terrorized the neighborhood on our skateboards or copped ice-cream sandwiches from his mom’s freezer.”

  “Ice-cream sandwiches!” Mike exclaimed. “I haven’t had one of those in years.”

  Chuck nodded. “Simple pleasures.”

  “Ice-cream sandwiches,” Bess said. “Noted. I’ll get some tomorrow. They make them with different flavors of ice cream these days. When I was a kid it was just vanilla.”

  The conversation and the meal went on and Allison found that her appetite was particularly healthy that evening. So many things were different from what they had been when the group had first come together at Driftwood House. Some things were better. Were some things worse? Allison shot a glance at Marta. She didn’t really know. Things were just different.

  That was okay.

  Chapter 64

  Bess had seen Dean and the baby leave the house and head down to the beach. She waited a half an hour—she didn’t want Dean to think she was stalking him, which she kind of was—and then followed. She hadn’t promised Nathan she would keep the news of his promotion and transfer a secret, and she knew that unlike how Chris had acted with Allison, Nathan would never stand in the way of her reaching out to her friends for comfort and advice.

  She found Dean and Thomas only a few yards from the stairs that led up to Driftwood House. “Care for some company?” she asked.

  “Sure. Plenty of room on this massive blanket Chuck insisted on buying. He can never resist a sale. He winds up buying stuff we really don’t need or stuff that’s too big or too small, just because it’s been discounted.” Dean laughed. “It drives me nuts.”

  Bess sat crossed-legged on the blanket. It really was huge. She wondered if after a few years of marriage, she and Nathan would be good-naturedly complaining about each other to their friends. Probably. It was what everyone did.

  “You put aside your career, at least for a time, to raise Thomas,” Bess began. “How did you come to that decision? What convinced you to make that sacrifice?”

  “I’m happy to talk about this, Bess, but why now?” Dean asked, adjusting Thomas’s wide-brimmed sun hat. “What’s going on?”

  “Can you keep a secret? Okay, I know you have to tell Chuck, but can the two of you keep a secret for a few days? No more than that?”

  Dean nodded and Bess told him about Nathan’s promotion and the accompanying transfer to Stockholm. “He really wants to accept,” she said finally, “but he says he’ll turn it down if I’m not okay with it. And I believe him.”

  “Wow. That’s big and what timing. So, what was your initial feeling about it? Yes or no?”

  “I didn’t have a yes or no feeling,” Bess admitted. “I still don’t, and I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.”

  “Let’s put a positive spin on your indecision,” Dean said. “Let’s say it means you’re open to the idea of the move but that before you say yes you want to be thoroughly certain you’re doing what’s best for you.” Dean nodded. “And for Nathan, too. For the both of you, never to be torn asunder and all that. At least, once the wedding ceremony is over.”

  “I guess that’s it,” Bess admitted, “except that I know accepting the promotion and transfer would be the best thing for Nathan.”

  “Not at the expense of your happiness,” Dean pointed out, “which would negatively affect the happiness of the marriage and, subsequently, its chance of success.”

  Bess frowned. “Oh,” she said. “Right. It’s so complicated, Dean! Having to think for three! Me, Nathan, and the marriage.”

  “There’s a reason marriage counseling is so popular and the divorce courts are so full.”

  The word divorce sent the usual sh
iver down Bess’s spine. “So, how did you guys make the decision about who should stay home and who should continue to work?”

  “First of all,” Dean said, taking Thomas on his lap, “we were very lucky to have had a choice. We’re financially secure enough for both of us to continue to work full-time and hire a full-time nanny, or to allow me to take a professional hiatus and be the stay-at-home parent. Our choice wasn’t solely determined by economic matters.”

  Bess thought. Her income. Her company. Her retirement savings. Her good name. If the move to Stockholm went sour, if the marriage didn’t survive, where would all that be? Where would she be?

  “But why you and not Chuck?” Bess asked. “Isn’t your career as important as his?”

  “Sure. But it won’t be as difficult for me to return to teaching one day as it would be for Chuck to get back into medicine. And don’t forget, while he makes a lot more money than I do, his schooling cost a hell of a lot more than mine did. I’m not saying I’ll be able to waltz into a good position once Thomas is in school full-time, but I should be able to build my way back up. I keep on top of the developments in educational theory. I have lots of friends in the teaching profession. I won’t be left floundering.”

  Bess gazed out over the sparkling Atlantic. Maybe she could work in Stockholm. She just didn’t know. There hadn’t been time to do any research. There was certainly no way she could just show up in Sweden and announce herself as a professional party and event planner. For one thing, she didn’t speak the language. For another thing, she had no idea at all about the country’s employment laws. For yet another thing, she had no professional connections outside the United States. Of course, there was no reason she couldn’t run Joie de Vivre from abroad, was there? Not if Kara was interested in accepting a larger role, and Bess had a pretty good idea that Kara would jump at the opportunity.

  A blog. A Bride Abroad. That could be a fun project. Thousands of people made good money from their blogs; it shouldn’t be difficult to learn how she could do the same.

  “I can’t deny how lucky we are,” Dean was going on. “So many families in this country are destroyed by the cost of childcare or just don’t have the option to stop working for a few years so they can raise their kids hands-on.”