She was puzzled by all of their fuss. “It’s just Simon,” she said.
“We know.” Bess made an effort not to meet Chloe’s sideangled glance. Something was up. Chloe started to turn red and giggle just as Simon pulled up.
“Go on!” Bess pushed her out of the entrance door and into the street. “Have a nice time!”
They had a table by the window in a private little alcove, and by the time the entrée arrived, Simon’s neck seemed to be turning red and he was tugging on his white starched collar.
“Are you all right?”
He took a small bite of his lamb chop before he put down his utensils and took a big sip of wine. Then he fished something out of his pocket and slid it across the table to her.
Her heart started to pound as she gently opened the velvet box. It was a large oval sapphire ring set in platinum from a British jeweler. Simple but stunning. And in her favorite shape.
“Well, I don’t think I need to tell you where I’ve come down on your ultimatum.”
She blushed and looked into his pale blue eyes. She noticed a vein in the center of his forehead. It splintered near the top and seemed to be throbbing.
“I’m terrified, Julia. But you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time, and I’m not going to give you up.”
He reached across the table, took the ring out of its case, and looked her in the eye as a little bead of perspiration rolled down his cheek. “Will you?”
Her heart was pounding like a large bird in a small cage, and she couldn’t tell if it was elation or fear that she felt. Maybe it was just surprise. Shock. Somehow she hadn’t really expected it of him. She nodded slowly and extended her left hand. He slid it slowly onto her ring finger where it promptly fell to the side. He had overestimated her size, so he apologized and quickly asked the waiter for some masking tape. Then she took it off and handed it to him as he wrapped some tape around the bottom and slid it back on. They both admired it as it sparkled beneath the candlelight, casting every color of blue with its sharply cut prisms.
Soon enough the valet brought around the car and they were on their way to Doubles, a swanky little club beneath the Sherry Netherland Hotel where Bess and Graham were members.
Down the silky wallpapered stairwell, Bess and Graham and a few other couples from the art department and galleries were there to celebrate. Champagne was popped and poured and a few people made toasts. Simon seemed to have it all planned out—he favored a small Christmas wedding. Then they’d jet off with his sons to Buenos Aires and Uruguay where it would be summer, and they’d take in the beach. It sounded wonderful to her. Bess would help her with everything. She would make an appointment with her doctor next week and the family-making could begin in a few short months.
“Everything’s coming together, isn’t it?” Bess whispered in her ear. They rubbed foreheads and smiled.
Julia’s caged heart kept pounding. It was almost as though she could hear it, and she still couldn’t tell if she was happy or dumbfounded or terrified.
“You think it is?” She looked Bess in the eye hard. Her friend straightened up and looked back at her. She knew her well.
“Remember the ultimatum? This is what you want, right?”
Julia blinked back tears and nodded her head. “I know.” They both turned to see Simon, who was laughing heartily with a couple of buddies from the ir77 gallery.
He caught her eye and lifted up his champagne flute. She lifted hers back and they both took a hearty sip together as Bess put her arm around Julia and whispered, “Nerves are par for the course.”
SIMON MADE SURE SHE CAUGHT A CAB HOME. HE WAS going to smoke a cigar with his buddies and she had an early morning faculty meeting. Chloe was asleep on top of Julia’s bed, clutching a handmade card that said “Best Wishes” in colored pencil with a drawing of a big blue ring on the front. Julia tucked her beneath the covers. She texted Bess to let her know where Chloe was. She was happy to sleep on the couch tonight.
Julia slipped off her pumps, put on her bathrobe, and went out to look at the moon. It was only a sliver, but it was set so low it almost seemed within reach if only the building had a few more stories. Should she call her mama right now? It was after midnight, and she didn’t want to scare her.
Then the urge came over her quite suddenly. She wanted to call her father. She wanted to tell him. He would have been very excited. He would have been awake this time of night, always the night owl touching up his paintings after everyone else was asleep. Did she need someone to give her away at age thirty-nine? Well, Graham would do it, she supposed.
When a strong wind cut through the rooftop terrace, she decided to head back in. Before she knew it she was pulling out the shoe box where she kept old letters she couldn’t seem to throw away. Near the top there was a letter from Aunt Dot shortly after her father’s death. In the yellowed envelope there was that photo Julia had half-forgotten about. She slid it out and gazed at the image: Baby Charlie Foster Bennett III, in a white onesie with a pale blue blanket draped across the little bouncy seat where he sat. He was book-ended by two beautiful suntanned girls who looked like they hadn’t combed their hair in quite some time. The younger one had lost one of her front teeth Julia noticed as she gazed at it for the first time in years. The other one kept her mouth shut tight and her hands on the seat as if she would guard the child till doomsday if necessary. Julia did the math. They must have been about twelve, nine, and four by now. “Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy,” Julia muttered. She wasn’t having an attack, but her heart was still thrashing in her chest.
Tomorrow she would call Meg. Surely she would rise to the occasion and help Marney out. But could she ask that of her? Why had this suddenly become her problem to deal with? She scoffed, put the lid back on the box, and shoved it back in the drawer. Then she let her hands fall to the side and felt something slide off of her left hand and hit the floor. She looked down, but her engagement ring was nowhere in sight. Then she got down on all fours and crawled around the kitchen as she heard Chloe tossing beneath the covers, muttering something in her sleep.
After a few moments she spotted it, glinting against the dark surface of the baseboard by the dishwasher. She grabbed it, stood up, and put it down on the kitchen counter. Then she grabbed a wineglass and put it on top of the ring where she stared at it like an exhibit in a museum. She would be a bride, a Christmas bride. She would start a new family. Her own family in this city in this built-from-scratch life it had taken her years to construct. She would find her new muse in Budapest. She would become department chair. It was what she wanted, and everyone back home would have to sort out their own problems. It wasn’t her bed to lie in. And she was very good at forgetting.
CHAPTER 6
Margaret
Margaret stared down at her cell phone. The area code was 212. Julia. She was sitting in the carpool line on Chapel Street outside of Charlestowne Prep School where her husband was the chairman of the board. Summer was fast approaching, and she had been busy making all of her children’s schedules: sailing, camp in the mountains of North Carolina, a week at Litchfield by the Sea.
This was the third time Julia had tried to get her. She only had about five minutes before school let out so she wouldn’t have to talk too long.
She took a deep breath and pressed the green button. “Hello, Julia.”
There was a pause. “Hi, Meg.”
“It’s Margaret, remember?”
“Oh, right. I apologize.”
Margaret rolled her eyes. “So I hear congratulations are in order?”
“Yeah.” Julia had all but lost the gentle lilt to her voice. Her vowels were sharp and enunciated. She sounded like a stranger.
“December twenty-second is the date. I hope you all will consider coming.”
“Send me the info on Facebook, okay? We will try to make it happen.”
They wouldn’t be missed. Julia had a whole life up there, and in truth there was no way Margaret wa
s going to allow her family to forego all of their usual Christmas activities: the holiday program at school, the Christmas pageant at church, the Nutcracker at the Performing Arts Center, and brunch with Santa at the Yacht Club.
There was a silence between them. It was awkward. “Did you need something?”
“I’m calling about Marney.”
Margaret could feel her temples pulse.
“You know she’s sick, right?”
“No, I didn’t,” she lied. She had heard from their babbling Aunt Dot that she’d had an early stage of cancer, and she wasn’t surprised. Bad lives yielded bad fruit. It was inevitable.
“She has lung cancer and has to have this major operation. There’s no one to look after the children while she recovers.”
The school bell rang, and the children started pouring out of the brick building and lining up on the street by the carpool queue. They were screaming and laughing and guffawing, the sun catching the crowns of their smooth, golden heads. She saw her youngest, Katherine, holding hands with her best friend, and then her two boys, Preston and Cooper. Preston was shoving a classmate a little too roughly, but she wasn’t surprised. It was that annoying Simms boy who was a head taller than everyone else. Her younger son, Cooper, was in an in-depth conversation with a couple of his friends, probably talking about Harry Potter. She wouldn’t let him read past the third book, so he read the first three over and over, though he tried to get hints about what happened next from his friends who had been allowed to read further on.
“Hmm,” Margaret finally said in response to Julia. “Well, Marney’s resourceful. I’m sure she can figure something out.”
Julia exhaled deeply. “Both she and Aunt Dot have asked me to help, but I’ve got this fellowship in Budapest.”
“That sounds nice . . . Come on in, sweethearts.” She didn’t bother moving the receiver away from her mouth as she greeted the kids. Did Julia have any idea what a busy life Margaret had? And her work was far more important than painting and teaching and traveling to some offbeat European city. Her work was raising young lives.
Margaret was not going to budge. Not going to give Julia an inch. If Julia thought for one moment that she was going to have anything to do with those children, she was wrong. If it were up to her, she would never cross paths with them again.
“Well, I don’t suppose you’d want to watch her kids or know of someone who could?” Julia finally got to the point of her self-centered call.
Margaret cleared her throat. “The kids? No, I’m afraid not,” she said as though she had been asked if she would like crumbled blue cheese added to her garden salad. “We’ve got a very busy end of spring and summer. I won’t bore you with the details, but there is no way I can help.” The kids tumbled into the car along with the other two neighbors they carpooled with. They tugged their backpacks in behind them and elbowed around and into one another until they each found a seat. Preston kicked the back of Margaret’s seat. “Let’s go, Mom.”
“It’s a really bad situation.” Julia’s voice was growing faint as Margaret pulled out of the carpool line. She knew she had gotten her message across.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Margaret turned back at the stop sign and made sure everyone was buckled in. “That’s really too bad.”
Cooper called out, “What’s for snack, Mom?” over the backseat. Margaret lifted her index finger sharply to indicate she needed a moment more. “Best of luck figuring something out, Julia. I have to go.” Then she clicked her phone off and turned back to her son, whose head was already back in his book. “The usual,” she muttered.
The kids got home, and she made them a healthy snack: peanut butter on celery and sliced apples and organic milk. They quickly finished their homework and then they went racing out into the backyard where she watched her two sons and daughter chasing one another around, kicking the soccer ball, and then going in three separate directions: Preston on the trampoline, Cooper in the treehouse with his book, Katherine on the tire swing.
Just as she was preheating the oven for the chicken, her husband walked through the front door and patted her playfully on the backside. She stood upright, put her hands on her hips, and swiveled around.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
She pulled the whole chicken out of the fridge and glared at him. “Guess what egotistical artist called me from New York today.”
Preston stepped back and furrowed his brow. Then he pulled a canister of almonds from the pantry and started to munch on a handful. “How’s Julia doing?”
Margaret clucked her tongue. “How’s she doing, Preston? She’s doing the same as always, hiding far away from the mess she left behind.” Preston scratched the back of his neck like a thickheaded baboon. He never seemed to share her disdain for Julia, or anyone for that matter. In that way he was as obtuse as her father, unaware of the motives of women, unmindful of the trouble in the world, even though he practiced law. Though she was the one who was particularly involved at their church, for the sake of the children, he was the one who seemed as though a weight had been lifted every time he uttered the Confession during the Sunday service.
Margaret stuffed the carcass with onions and carrots. “And she had the gall to ask me if I could help or find help for Marney’s children while she has her operation.”
Preston selected a bottle of red from the wine storage cabinet and slid off the wrapping with a single pull as Margaret washed her hands thoroughly. He shook his head as he reached for the corkscrew. “You keep Marney’s kids?”
He was the only one who knew what Margaret had done those four years ago when she realized her father had left the entire Edisto property to his second family in his will until the children were grown, dashing her hopes for having a vacation home out there.
She had called DSS. And she had not regretted it. She saw how Marney kept house, and anyone in their right mind would have done the same thing. Somehow Marney had weaseled her way through the system and had the kids back within a few months. In the meantime, Preston had been promoted to partner at his law firm and Margaret gave up the dream of an Edisto home and conceded to several acres on a lake in Williamsburg County, which they purchased with the plan of building a nice cabin in a few years.
“But why is Julia involved with Marney’s illness?”
Margaret reached for the pepper grinder and began to spin its knob above the chicken.
“Because Julia wouldn’t know a snake if it bit her on the hand.”
Preston chuckled as he poured two glasses of red. Then he opened the glass door for Katherine, who was knocking gently on it. “I need to tee tee,” the little girl said.
“Okay.” Preston leaned down and pointed to his cheek, and the child gave him a kiss before continuing to the bathroom.
“I guess you’re right, honey.” He came over and gently massaged Margaret’s tight shoulders. She relaxed for a moment and leaned back into him.
When the oven buzzed, she turned away and shoved the chicken in. There was only one person with whom Margaret was angrier than she was with Marney and her father. And that was Julia.
She went over, picked up her wineglass, and took a hearty sip as Preston went out to greet the boys and kick the soccer ball around with them. Then she sat down at the computer at the kitchen table, its glow calming her along with the wine as she selected her Facebook page on her favorites so she could check the comments regarding the photo of Katherine at her ballet recital, which she posted just before picking up carpool. They read “Adorable,” “What a beauty,” and “She’s growing up so fast.” She “Liked” them all, then she clicked over to the ticker page to see what the rest of her friends were up to.
CHAPTER 7
Mary Ellen
On Mary Ellen’s way to work, she took the neatly folded window repair bill, walked gingerly up Nate Gallagher’s old brick walkway, and slipped it through his tarnished mail slot. Relieved that his enormous beast, a chunky English mastiff, hadn’t stirred, she
quickly pivoted in her navy espadrilles only to find Nate and his beast returning at a lively pace from their morning walk.
The mastiff barked loudly, then broke away from Nate and began pawing at the L.L. Bean canvas bag Mary Ellen always carried to work. It included her bifocals, her notebook, her newspapers, and her lunch. She and the Collateral Damage girls had eaten out at Hall’s Chophouse the night before to celebrate Jane Anne’s sixty-fifth birthday, and Mary Ellen had packed the last half of her rib-eye and a container of the leftover creamed spinach for lunch.
“Order this creature off of me!” she said.
Nate chuckled and said halfheartedly, “Down, Luther.”
Mary Ellen patted the dirt from Luther’s paw off of her canvas bag. He had smudged her celery-green monogram.
“So what’s the damage?” Nate lumbered toward Mary Ellen.
“Well, he’s dirtied my bag.”
Nate sniffed loudly. “I don’t mean that, Mrs. Bennett.”
She cocked her head as it dawned on her. Then she straightened her shoulders. “Four hundred and twenty dollars. They had to replace the entire window, and it took them a couple of hours.”
He shook his head as Luther continued to sniff around Mary Ellen’s bag, rubbing his wet nose inside the slit of her long linen skirt.
She pushed him away and straightened her linen jacket.
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