by Susan Wiggs
“Affair” sounded too dark and dramatic. Nina didn’t have “affairs.” She dated, and then she moved on. That was what she was supposed to be doing now that her nest was empty, dating and moving on. Instead, she found herself yearning for Greg, wishing the world would go away so she could be with him.
Row upon row of rented chairs had been set up for the guests. There was an aisle leading to a flower-festooned archway over a raised dais. “I’m glad they don’t do that whole ‘friends of the bride, friends of the groom’ thing,” Sonnet said as Max escorted them to their seats.
“I’m glad, too,” Nina said. “I always thought it was a dumb tradition, plus it was bound to make one of them look more popular than the other.”
“Thanks, Max,” Sonnet said. “You look like a million bucks. Seriously, you little hottie.”
He blushed to the tips of his ears. “No talking during the ceremony.”
“And I am so dancing with you at the reception,” Sonnet added.
“If you’re lucky,” he said.
“I’m always lucky.”
Nina watched him hurry off to help someone else. “You made him blush,” she said.
“He’s twelve, Mom. Everything makes him blush. Daisy said you helped him out a lot this summer. That was nice of you.”
“It’s easy to be nice to a kid like Max.” She tried not to be too obvious as she looked around. Toward the front, the families gathered. The Bellamys were a handsome bunch, from Charles and Jane, the dignified matriarch and patriarch, to Max, the youngest grandson, already showing promise of the family’s heartbreaker good looks. Yet they were only human like everyone else, as evidenced by the subdued mother and father of the bride. Philip Bellamy had been divorced from Pamela Lightsey for many years, yet just for today, they presented a united and loving front. Nina knew the harmony had been hard-won, though, given their turbulent past. Decades earlier, with the wrongheaded desperation of people who would go to any lengths to preserve their daughter’s happiness, the Lightseys had ruthlessly engineered the marriage of Philip to Pamela. And, as anyone could have predicted, the marriage hadn’t lasted. But the consequences of the Lightseys’ interference had. Thanks to them, Philip had never known about Jenny, until he found out by accident last summer. It was amazing, Nina thought, what people would do in order to manipulate their children’s lives.
Perhaps one of the saddest victims of the debacle was Pamela herself, the mother of the bride. She had never remarried. According to Jenny, she lived a lonely life in her luxurious Fifth Avenue apartment, attending fund-raiser teas, serving on committees and collecting art. She looked fiercely proud today, though, awaiting the bride with the rest of the gathering. Her parents were not present. According to Jenny, Mr. Lightsey was in the hospital, and they’d sent a lavish tea service from Tiffany’s as a wedding gift.
Nina felt a subtle change in the air, and she craned her neck around, spying Greg. Her heart kicked into overdrive, and she tried not to stare, but in his tux, he looked like a dream come true. She tried to catch his eye, but he seemed very serious and distracted. At one point, she thought he was looking at her but his gaze skimmed right past.
She suspected the cause of his seriousness was sitting across the aisle and near the back—Sophie, his ex-wife. She was coolly beautiful in a crisp linen sleeveless dress and open-toed pumps. Sophie Bellamy resembled a classical statue of a goddess, but better-dressed. Nina knew that if she was more savvy about fashion, she’d recognize the label of the couture dress. Nina had been careful not to ask Sonnet too much about Sophie. Yet now the girl noticed Nina’s scrutiny. “I knew you were curious,” she said. “She’s really smart and has this amazing job. You know how some kids pretend like their parents have these big, important jobs, like they’re saving humanity? Well, Sophie really is.”
“So I heard.” Nina had expected to dislike Sophie. To disapprove of her. After all, she’d left a husband and two hurting kids to go jetting off to Europe, hadn’t she? Now Nina was forced to consider the possibility that the situation was more complicated.
Sonnet leaned over and said, “Don’t worry, people are impressed by you, too. All I’ve heard about since I got back is how incredible you’ve made the Inn at Willow Lake.”
“I don’t change people’s lives. Just their weekend, maybe. If anyone’s impressed by me, it’s because of my awesome daughter.” Nina gave her hand a squeeze. Sonnet had come back from Europe more polished and smarter than ever, yet just as wide-eyed about the world, and just as kind-hearted. Sitting with her, waiting for the wedding to begin, Nina felt a keen sense of just what she would lose when Sonnet went away for good. No one in this world held Nina in the same love and regard.
“I’m happy for you, Mom. You know that, right?” Sonnet whispered. “I’m glad you and Greg are—”
“Greg and I are what?” Nina felt a chill of alarm. She hadn’t said anything. She and Greg had barely seen each other since Sonnet had returned.
“I think he’s great, Mom.”
The five-piece string ensemble ended its tender rendition of Pachelbel’s Canon, leaving a pause of silence. People shifted in their seats, cleared their throats. Then the wedding march swelled in grand strains from the musicians. Heads swiveled to the aisle as the wedding party made its entrance. When Nina caught sight of Jenny on the arm of the groom’s brother, Julian, she unexpectedly teared up. Jenny looked ethereal and lovely in her gown, with violet freesias in her hair, carrying a bouquet of white roses. Nina flashed on a collage of moments of their childhood together—the sleepovers, the fits of giggles, the earnest plans they’d made for their weddings. How differently things had turned out for both of them. Nina realized these were tears for the way she was feeling now, for the things she wanted to say to Greg, for all her hopes and regrets.
Olivia looked vulnerable and gorgeous at the same time. Connor made a magnificent bridegroom—towering and imposing, almost intimidating in his good looks and presence, until he smiled. Then he just glowed with goofy happiness, and it transformed him into the person Nina knew he was—a great guy who’d led a lonely life until he met Olivia. These two were so good to each other. Even a casual observer could see the caring in their eyes and hear it ringing in their voices as they spoke their vows.
Together, the two of them made love look effortless. Nina knew it hadn’t been, of course—it never was—but now they shone with hope and confidence. It made her wonder what the future held for them. Yes, they adored each other now. What would it take to stay that way? What did it take for any couple to stay in love? She thought about her own parents. On the surface, it seemed that Pop was the dreamer, Ma the realist. Now she wondered if maybe Ma had dreams, too, but nobody knew what they were. Pop’s big dreams and goals eclipsed them. For the first time in her life, Nina could understand why her mother was perfectly content with this, and that worried Nina. A lot.
With so many brothers and sisters, Nina had attended many weddings in her time. She tried to tally up all the occasions, but she’d lost count. The first was for her aunt Isabella. She was five years old, and a flower girl. She remembered a succession of joyful brides, weeping mothers, proud grooms, loud parties. She dearly loved weddings—the music, the ceremony, the rituals, the toasts, the emotions. Today, she felt different. For the first time ever, she didn’t just want to toast the bride. She wanted to be the bride.
Frightened by the thought, she listened, really listened to the words and prayers of a wedding service. She was moved, yet at the same time, completely skeptical. How could two rational individuals stand there and pledge their lifelong devotion to one another? Were they crazy? Didn’t they realize life was full of surprises, some of them not so welcome?
Yet today, she watched the bride and groom through new eyes. For the first time in her life, she could understand the hope and possibility that compelled two people to make those vows. For the first time, she could imagine herself saying the words, meaning them, dedicating herself to keeping a vow to love
someone forever.
When the ceremony concluded, she tried again to make eye contact with Greg. He was busy with the rest of the family, being herded around by the photographer. She’d find him at the reception, then.
But the reception was a giddy whirlwind of toasting and dancing, the music so loud it was necessary to shout to be heard. Nina felt uncharacteristically subdued. No, that was putting it mildly. She was taken back to the days when she was Mrs. Romano’s cheeky daughter, an outsider, a misfit who would never make it as a Bellamy.
“Hey, you,” someone said. “Let’s dance.”
“Connor! Congratulations,” she said, putting her hand in his. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“My father stole my bride and I need consoling.” He gestured at the dance floor, where Olivia was dancing with Terry Davis. Olivia’s father, Philip Bellamy, had claimed Laura Tuttle from the bakery as his partner, and the sight of them brought a smile to her lips. They were both so clearly smitten with each other. Like everyone else in town, Nina had always thought Laura would stay single her whole life. Now, at an age when some people were counting down the years to retirement, Laura was taking the ultimate leap of faith.
“Love is in the air, huh?” Connor remarked, leading her onto the floor.
“Like a virus.”
He laughed and firmed up his dance hold, making up in humor what he lacked in grace. “Ha. You’re not so tough.”
Nina scanned the room, admiring Olivia’s friends with their boarding-school accents and polished social skills. She simply didn’t have whatever it was these people had. It wasn’t breeding but something ineffable she couldn’t begin to grasp or articulate. “I don’t really fit in here,” she confessed to Connor.
He chuckled. “I felt the same way,” he said. “A bull in a china shop. Olivia and I come from different worlds. But that’s just an excuse.”
The song ended and she wished him well, and watched him go over to reclaim his bride. Mulling over his words, she conceded he was right. She needed to get past her fears. On the one hand, she couldn’t wait to talk to Greg. Yet at the same time, she felt downright afraid. She was poised on the verge of a supreme happiness, and it scared her to find herself in such a vulnerable position. The hall was crowded and maybe it wasn’t the best place to tell Greg what her heart had been urging her to say to him. She tried it out in silence. I love you, Greg. I love you. I. Love. You. Iloveyou…Finally, finally the words made sense to her. At last she felt something she’d never understood before, and it was like freefalling out of an airplane.
Greg wanted to relax and enjoy the wedding. It wasn’t often all the Bellamys gathered in one place, and he wished he could appreciate it more. But he was ticked-off and distracted. At the reception, he watched the dancing and toasting. He stood at the top of the stairs that led down to the dock, trying to psyche himself up to join in. Daisy sat at a table, eating a plate heaped with food and talking earnestly with her mother. At least they were talking, he thought. Then suspicion stabbed at him. Maybe now, in the wake of Daisy’s big announcement, Sophie would try to convince their daughter to move overseas with her. Maybe…Damn, he hated this. Why wouldn’t Daisy simply let him take care of her?
“Hey.” Suddenly Nina was at his side.
For a moment, he felt a spike of pure attraction. He studied her flushed face, her sparkling smile.
“Champagne?” she offered, taking two flutes from the tray of a passing waiter. The motion raised a series of memories in Greg, something he thought he’d forgotten. But standing here, taking a glass of champagne from her, he realized they were in the same place they’d been at another wedding—Greg’s. It had taken place right here at Camp Kioga. He’d gotten drunk and put his fist through a wall. He could still see a slight scar where the Sheetrock had been repaired. It would never be exactly the same. An inauspicious beginning. Yet he’d been so certain it could work. So had Sophie.
This summer, Nina had turned him into a true believer all over again. He’d been inches from opening his heart to her. Then Daisy had delivered a necessary reality check. Now Nina stood there looking completely beautiful and without guile. As she had ever since he’d first met her, she represented the unattainable. The thing he couldn’t have. He’d been stupid to think anything had changed.
He had intended to wait until after the wedding to confront her, but since she’d cornered him, they could have it out now. He held open the door and she stepped outside, heading down the stairs to the lakeshore. It was sunset, the lake on fire with color, mocking his mood.
Nina turned to him, her full lips moist, as though she expected him to kiss her.
“Daisy says she’s moving out,” he told her bluntly. “After the baby.”
Nina blinked, as though surprised. “Really.”
“Yeah, just like you said. I wonder how you knew.”
She recoiled from his anger. He had to force himself to ignore the hurt in her eyes. She said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right. She’s going away to find her life.”
“And this is a bad thing?”
“Hell, yes, it’s bad. She belongs at the inn. With me.”
“So it’s all about you now.”
He glared at her. “That’s bullshit. It’s about keeping my daughter safe.”
“It’s about keeping her where you can control her.” A bitter laugh burst from Nina. “You know, I had something entirely different in mind that I wanted to talk about. But you just spared me the trouble.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded.
Her face looked stiff, as though she was battling to keep her emotions in check. “Believe me, you don’t want to know.”
“Just…keep your advice to Daisy to yourself from now on, okay?” he said. “She’s not you, Nina. She’s not ready to take on the world.”
“And you think I was?”
“I think—Christ—I just wish you’d back off when it comes to my daughter.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but he could still see the glitter of temper there. “Did you ever think maybe you should back off when it came to your daughter?”
“Screw you, Nina.” Operating on fear, he lashed out, shocking even himself with his anger, using just a few words to trash everything they had built together throughout the summer. He watched her face turn pale, her eyes widen as anger turned to hurt. “Look, it’s not working—this, the inn—it would be better if we didn’t see each other.”
She crossed her arms defensively in front of her. “That’s going to be a bit of a challenge, seeing how we work together.”
Go ahead, he told himself. Throw it all away. “Maybe that’s going to need to change.”
“You can’t be serious.” Her hands dropped to her hips, drawing attention to the fact that she looked amazing tonight, dressed to the nines for the wedding. “You are serious. How convenient for you, that you’re able to fire someone and break up with her all in one step.”
He felt them falling apart, which was so depressing. They’d barely had a chance. Maybe it was better this way, better to cut their losses. Daisy was the issue here. He needed to keep his focus on that. At the same time, he hated what he’d just done. “Nina,” he said.
She was halfway up the stairs. She paused, but didn’t turn to look at him. Then, bracing her hand on the railing, she kept on going.
Greg eyed the smooth wall, balling his hand into a fist. At the top of the stairs, a door burst open. Sophie stepped out, barely glancing at Nina. For a second, Greg found himself caught between the two of them, one his past, one his future, neither happy with him.
“It’s Daisy,” Sophie said. “We need to go to the hospital.”
Twenty-Seven
T hey couldn’t have done a worse job planning. They should have assumed she could go into labor at any given moment. No one had allowed that the baby might make his appearance on the wedding day. Sophie had driven to the camp in her rental car—a two-
door subcompact of the tiny type she’d grown accustomed to in Europe—and Greg had brought his work truck. They ended up borrowing Philip’s SUV, because it was roomiest in the back. Greg helped himself to a stack of clean table linens and tea towels from the caterer’s van, yelling at someone that he’d replace them. They definitely needed towels; in childbirth class they’d been advised to keep a supply in the car. In fact, the instructor had actually suggested a tarp.
Nothing went according to plan. The exodus was supposed to unfold in orderly fashion. Phone calls would be made calmly and without shouting. A prepacked suitcase would be loaded into the car. They would reach the hospital by driving at cautious speeds.
Instead, Greg roared with frustration at the lack of a cellphone signal and sent his mother to the office to use the landline while he and Sophie helped Daisy to the car. During that process, the pains came fast and hard, and Daisy started to cry, each sob skewering Greg with panic. He started the car, but Sophie appeared at his side. “I’ll drive.”
“But—”
“Dad…” Daisy’s voice strained toward him.
Greg swore and got out. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. But he’d signed on as her birth coach, and he couldn’t do that if he was driving. He got into the backseat, realizing then why the childbirth instructor had suggested the tarp. Sorry about your upholstery, bro, he thought.
Jenny’s husband Rourke McKnight, who was chief of police, offered an escort with emergency lights, but Daisy refused. Between pains, she seemed a bit sheepish about all the attention. “This is Olivia’s day,” she said past gritted teeth. “Let’s go as quietly as possible. Just the three of us.”
