Table for Seven (33 page)

“Some people are happier on their own. But I think those types are rare. Most people are social beings. They need to be out, around other people, having fulfilling relationships,” Leland said.

“I think that’s true,” Jaime chimed in. “I read an article a while back that said people who are involved in organizations are happier than people who aren’t. It doesn’t matter what it is—a church, a sport, a book club.”

“A dinner party club,” Mark said.

“Exactly,” Jaime said, nodding at her husband.

The conversation shifted into a discussion of clubs. Jaime said she also belonged to a book club, and Mark joked that he might be a Free Mason, but wouldn’t be able to tell them if he was. Leland used the cover of this conversation to turn to Coop and quietly say, “You need to make things right with her. That’s not the sort of woman you should let get away.”

Coop was starting to feel exasperated. “I don’t know
what you think I’ve done, but trust me—I’m not the reason why Audrey isn’t here,” Coop said. As he spoke, he wondered if this was in fact true. After all, he’d never known that so many of his ex-girlfriends carried such resentment about how things had ended. But that was just it, Coop thought—
he
hadn’t broken up with Audrey.
She’d
ditched
him
. And then ran off with Kenny and his cellphone holster.

“Why would Audrey not come because of Coop?” asked Fran, who was sitting at the head of the table on Leland’s other side.

“She wouldn’t. I’m sure it has nothing to do with me,” Coop said. He shrugged, feeling defensive.

“Hmm,” Leland said, clearly not buying this.

Fran sighed. “Okay, I didn’t want to get into it, but it really has nothing to do with Coop. Audrey’s not here because she and I had an argument. A bad one, actually. I think it’s the end of our friendship.”

“No, it’s not,” Jaime protested. She slid a sidewise glance at Will, which Coop found odd.

“Anyway, I know it’s awkward, but let’s just try to move on,” Fran said. She turned to Coop and smiled. “How’s your new project going? Are you still in the process of editing the dolphin footage?”

Fran served the risotto, and they segued into small talk. Mark updated them on his daughter’s tennis career, of course, and Jaime and Fran lamented the lack of a good local bakery, while Will stayed mostly mute, coming to life for only a brief period when the bakery discussion turned to which restaurant in town made the best brownies.

“Margaret Davies,” Leland said suddenly.

Coop looked at him, feeling vaguely uneasy. Was this early stage dementia? Leland had seemed a bit off all evening.
He asked Jaime twice what her children’s names were, and seemed confused when Fran handed him the bread basket.

“Do you want some more water?” Coop asked, brandishing the pitcher.

“Margaret Davies made the best carrot cake. It was so spicy and moist,” Leland said, his voice dreamy.

An uneasy silence fell over the table. Leland’s eyes were unfocused, and his speech was slightly slurred. He seemed to be listing to the right. Coop poured water into Leland’s goblet.

“Have some water,” Coop urged the older man.

“She was a beautiful woman, too. Those long, long legs that seemed like they went straight up to her shoulders. My wife never forgave me for Margaret. Not really. I wish she had. You should forgive the people you love, especially when they’re so sorry. And I was so sorry,” Leland continued. His voice began to slur.

Coop looked at Will. “Stroke?” he mouthed.

“Maybe we should call 911,” Will said.

Suddenly, Leland slumped forward, crashing into the table. Jaime gasped, and Coop and Fran both jumped to their feet.

“Call 911!” Coop yelled.

Will sprinted off to the kitchen to retrieve the phone. With help from Fran and Mark, Coop got the elderly man out of his chair, and laid him down on the floor.

“Do you know how to do CPR?” Fran asked him.

Coop nodded and began to check for vital signs. Leland wasn’t breathing, and his eyes were open, staring unseeingly up at the brass chandelier. Trying to remember the CPR class he’d taken years earlier, Coop blew two deep breaths
into Leland’s mouth and then began to do chest compressions on Leland’s thin chest.
One, and two, and three, and four …

He counted to thirty, then stopped. Leland still wasn’t breathing.

“An ambulance is on the way,” Will said.

“Let me help,” Fran said.

She positioned herself at Leland’s head and took over blowing deep breaths into his mouth. Coop began another series of chest compressions.

“Come on,” Coop said through gritted teeth. “Come on, Leland.”

It felt like forever until the ambulance arrived. He and Fran worked together. Breaths, compressions, breaths, compressions. The others stood by silently, watching. Coop and Fran kept at it, right up until emergency rescue services arrived. And even after the EMTs took over, attempting to revive Leland with a portable defibrillator, Coop continued to count in his head.
One, and two, and three, and four …

Come on
, Coop thought, trying to focus all of his willpower onto the elderly man.
Come on. Wake up
.

But in the end, nothing any of them did helped. And Leland never did wake up.

november

BLUE CHEESE AND BACON DIP

PÂTÉ DE CAMPAGNE

BACON-WRAPPED DATES

FONTINA CHEESE, CARAMELIZED ONION, AND BACON TART

GRILLED ASPARAGUS WITH GOAT CHEESE AND CRISPY BACON

A
UDREY THOUGHT THAT LELAND would have liked his funeral. It was so unlike Ryan’s funeral had been. There, everyone had been white-faced with shock, and when his best friend from their boyhoods began sobbing during his eulogy, there hadn’t been a dry eye in the church.

Leland’s funeral was an entirely different affair. He had led a good long life, and his mourners were teary, yes, but more inclined to celebrate the man they had known and loved. One of Leland’s old law clerks—now a man in his fifties—flew in from Illinois to give the eulogy. He talked about how Leland had tasked him with picking him up every morning and driving him to court. He’d thought this was a regular duty for law clerks, and only found out years later that Leland had enlisted his services as a chauffeur because the Judge—that’s what the clerk and countless others called him, the Judge—had adored the clerk’s sporty red convertible.

The Leland these people had known was both different and yet the same as the Leland the dinner party club had grown so fond of, Audrey mused. The people from his previous life had known Leland when he was a man of consequence—a judge, a husband, a father. But the things they said about him—how funny he was, how thoughtful, the interest he’d taken in their lives—were exactly like the retired Leland that the Table for Seven Club had known.

Sitting in the church pew, Audrey checked her program
and had a jolt of surprise. Coop was scheduled to speak. She hadn’t thought Coop was particularly close to Leland. All of the other speakers—Leland’s two sons, his old law partners, his former clerks—had known Leland for years. As far as she knew, Coop had met Leland at the same time she did, back at the first meeting of the Table for Seven Club, less than a year ago. Audrey craned her neck around and scanned the congregation, looking for Coop’s sun-bleached head. She saw him standing near the back—every seat in the church was filled—and her heart gave a little skip. Audrey had thought she had grown immune to Coop and any attraction he held for her.

Apparently, she was wrong.

The law clerk finished speaking, and everyone clapped politely. Coop strode to the front of the church, and took the clerk’s place at the lectern.

“Hi, there,” Coop said, leaning in close to the microphone. “I’m Preston Cooper. I didn’t know Leland as long as many of you did, but in the time I did know him, Leland impressed me as the rarest of men, in that he was someone who actually understood other men.”

There was a titter of laughter across the congregation. Audrey watched Coop intently, her hands fisted so tightly, her nails left marks on the skin of her palms.

“I don’t mean that in a Tim Allen,
Home Improvement
sort of way,” Coop said. “Where the men grunt like apes and wait around to be civilized by the womenfolk. What I mean is that Leland had a habit of assessing a situation and the people involved, and delivering a piece of advice that was so on point, I wondered at times if he was some sort of a psychic.”

There was another spattering of laughter. Apparently,
the Table for Seven Club members were not the first people in Leland’s life to take note of his intuitiveness.

“Just before he passed away—the very night, in fact—Leland gave me some advice.” Coop paused, and looked directly in Audrey’s direction. She felt her face flush, and shrank back in the pew, certain that everyone was staring at her. “And like everything that Leland said, I realized, upon reflection, that he was right. Very right. And I was so very wrong.” A heavy man in the front of the church guffawed loudly, which caused another ripple of tittering. Coop smiled wryly. “I see I wasn’t the first person to benefit from Leland’s keen insight. But that’s a good thing. I can’t think of a better legacy than to have people grouped around your coffin, remembering you for the positive influence you had in their lives.

“So, Leland, know this: You left us all too soon. Nearly everyone sitting here benefited from your wise advice. And it is to our great detriment that we will have to go without it from now on.” Coop paused and smiled sadly. “We’ll miss you.”

Coop replaced the microphone to its holder on the lectern while applause rang out. Audrey sat still as could be, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

THE REMAINING MEMBERS OF the Table for Seven Dinner Party Club gathered at Audrey’s house the night of the funeral for a special meeting in Leland’s honor.

Audrey had offered to cook, but everyone wanted to contribute, so in the end, they decided to put together a potluck buffet, which they christened Bacon-alia. Fran and Will brought dates stuffed with blue cheese and wrapped in bacon
and chocolate bars studded with bacon that Will had found at Whole Foods. Jaime made pâté de campagne, a country pâté seasoned with brandy, which had, she explained, been cooked in a layer of bacon, removed prior to serving. Audrey set out an onion, cheese, and bacon tart and a platter of grilled asparagus sprinkled with goat cheese and bacon. Coop brought a blue cheese and bacon dip.

Once they had filled their plates and sat at the table—a seventh place had been set in Leland’s honor—they raised their glasses to the empty chair and said, “To Leland.”

“I just wish we had thought to do this for him when he was here to enjoy it,” Fran said sadly, looking at her plate. “An entire meal of bacon. He would have been thrilled.”

Jaime patted her arm. “I think wherever Leland is, he would definitely approve,” she said.

“Leland’s sons look just like him,” Mark said.

“Really? Weren’t they both over six feet tall? And Leland was so short. I wonder how tall his wife was,” Jaime said.

“No, I know what Mark means,” Audrey said. “They both had his eyes. And the younger one—” she paused, trying to remember his name.

“Peter,” Coop said.

“Right, thank you,” Audrey said. She glanced at Coop, then looked quickly away. “He had Leland’s nose and ears.”

“His ears? Really?” Will said.

Audrey nodded. “Exactly the same.”

“I didn’t notice,” Will said.

“What do you think Leland meant when he said his wife never forgave him?” Jaime asked.

“Let’s not talk about that,” Fran said sharply.

“Why not?” Jaime asked. “I think Leland wanted to talk about it that night.”

“He wasn’t in his right mind,” Fran said.

“What are you all talking about?” Audrey asked. It was the first time she had directly addressed Fran since their fight.

Fran seemed so surprised by Audrey speaking to her that she answered, despite her unwillingness to discuss the subject. “Just before Leland died, he was talking about a woman who used to make him carrot cake,” she said.