Wedding in Great Neck (9781101607701) (12 page)

“Grow up,” she muttered.
Fuck you
, was what she really wanted to say, but why go there? She closed her eyes and, because she’d left her sunglasses upstairs in her room, pressed her forearm over them. Maybe if she pretended to be trying to nap, Caleb would go away. No such luck.

“You remember Bobby? From last night?”

She opened her eyes to see her brother’s new boyfriend standing at his side. Naturally she remembered Bobby; did her brother think she was senile? But she just propped herself up on her elbows and said, “Sure.”

“I told Caleb that you were the smart one,” he said in a low, confiding voice. Despite her annoyance with Caleb, Gretchen smiled. Bobby was charming; she would grant him that. Charming and good-looking too, with a thick sheaf of blond hair that fell across his intriguing, amber-colored eyes.

“Going in for a swim?” she asked.

He nodded. “Looks like you’ve been in already.”

“I was. And the water’s just fine.” She settled back down.

Caleb and Bobby laid their striped towels—their
cabana
towels—on the pair of chairs flanking the chaise longue and jumped into the water. They didn’t so much swim as frisked, splashed, dunked, and cannonballed; they made quite a racket. Gretchen could have easily left. She’d had her swim, and she’d had her flirtation. But she found herself wanting to stay, so she got up and dragged the chaise longue into the shade, where she would not have to worry about sunburn. Caleb and Bobby were swimming now, gracefully in tandem across the glittering blue surface of the water.

Her brother looked so—well, so
happy
that Gretchen’s earlier irritation evaporated, leaving a tender and protective glow in its place. Caleb had been a sensitive, nervous kid. He cried easily and took even the smallest things very hard. So it was nice to see him enjoying the giddy little intoxication of this nascent romance. Caleb was a honey. Oh, he could be prickly, but that was only in self-defense; he was so easily hurt and needed some sort of armor. She hoped Bobby would understand this.

Finally the two men climbed out of the pool and lay panting side by side in the sun. Gretchen saw Caleb reach for Bobby’s hand and give it a squeeze; Bobby leaned over to whisper something in Caleb’s ear that made him burst out laughing. He was still laughing when Bobby got up, crossed the lawn, and headed back toward the house.

After a minute Caleb opened his eyes and waved at Gretchen.

“Come sit with me,” she called. “I’m in the shade ’cause I don’t want to get burned.”

“You and Angelica, always shunning the sun,” he said, but he got up and ambled over, striped towel trailing along behind him, to where she sat.

“When we’re old ladies, our skin will still be radiant and dewy, while yours will be all wrinkled, like a raisin.”

“No, it won’t,” he said, nudging her leg with his.

“Why not, smarty-pants?” she retorted. “Do you have an antiaging secret you’re not telling me about? No fair.”

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m not going to get old.”

“And how are you planning to avoid that?” Gretchen scanned the sky overhead; it must have been noon or just about. She was getting hungry, damn it. The downside of physical exertion.

“I’m planning to die young.”

He looked so serious that Gretchen wanted to hug him and say, Shut
up
, in that way she heard her daughters say it, the emphasis on the second word. Instead she said, “You’re really crazy about this guy, huh?”

He nodded, and the smile widened until it consumed his face.

“That’s wonderful, Caleb. Really wonderful.”

“We’re moving in together.” He leaned forward as he spoke.

“Really? I didn’t know.” Gretchen considered this for a moment. Was it too sudden, or was Caleb really ready to commit?

“We just decided.”

“Any thoughts about where?”

“It’s complicated.” Gretchen said nothing, waiting for him to go on. “I haven’t told this to anyone but Mom yet,” he continued, voice growing more animated. “I haven’t been happy at work for a long time now, and I’m ready for a change. So I’m going back to school. To become a pastry chef.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Not.”

“Well,” Gretchen said. “Well.”

“So everything’s a little unsettled now. I’ll be starting school in September, and I want Bobby to go with me.”

“Go with you where?”

“This is the best part: the cooking school is in the south of France. A town called St. Jean Cap Ferrat; it’s on the Riviera.”

Gretchen was silent.

“What? You mean you don’t think that’s a little slice of heaven?”

“Mom’s paying for this, isn’t she?”

“What difference does that make?” He looked hurt.

“None, I guess.” Why had she even
said
that? She let her mother pay her daughters’ tuition, didn’t she? Who was she to throw stones?

“It’s not like she can’t spare it,” he said, gesturing to the pool and all that went with it.

“You’re right,” she said, shamed now by her ungenerous response. “You’re absolutely right. She has the money, and she wants to give it to you. Why shouldn’t you take it?”

“Exactly,” Caleb said. “And if I become really successful as a chef, I can pay her back, right?”

“Right,” she said, and in that moment he was her little brother again, dripping chocolate batter onto the pages of the
Joy of Cooking
as he pored intently over its stained pages. “Anyway, all this talk about pastry is making me hungry,” she added, swinging her legs up from the chaise and reaching for her towel. “Why don’t we go inside and see if we can find some lunch?”

Caleb got up, and together they walked back along one of the paths that led to the house. Along the way they passed a quaintly decaying stone well—nonfunctional—and a bronze fountain of a dolphin spewing water from its bronze mouth. Her mother did love her garden ornaments. They also passed the little shed; Gretchen noticed that the red wheelbarrow was standing by its door, which was partially ajar. That meant Jon, the sexy grounds crew guy, was somewhere nearby. She sucked her stomach in as she ever so casually glanced around in the hope that she might see him. And in the next instant she did, but then just as quickly wished she didn’t: still shirtless, he stood just inside the shed, his wonderfully tanned and muscled arms locked tightly around Bobby as the two of them kissed as if they would never stop.

The sensation she felt, that slow drop of her heart from its perch of high, eager anticipation was nothing—and this she knew from cruel experience—but
nothing
compared to what her brother must be feeling. She put her hand on his arm, trying desperately to think of something, anything that would be of comfort to him now. But he recoiled from her touch as if he’d been singed, and ran without looking back or stopping toward the shelter of their mother’s house.

Gretchen was still standing there wondering what to do—follow Caleb or give him some privacy—when Teddy came out, wearing a garish pair of baggy flowered swim trunks that extended to his knees.
Once a frat boy, always a frat boy,
she thought. Walking alongside him was the elegant and self-contained Marti, her smooth brown hair in a twist, her well-cut black bikini—she had the body for it, that was for sure—at once sexy and sophisticated.

“What was that all about?” Teddy asked. He removed his dark wraparound sunglasses. “Caleb just went streaking by; boy, were
his
knickers in a twist.”

“He was upset,” Gretchen said. How much to tell Teddy? He and Caleb were not especially close, and she did not want to expose her youngest brother, especially in front of Marti, whom none of them knew well.

“I could see
that
,” Teddy said witheringly. “I was wondering why.”

“Maybe Gretchen does not wish to say,” Marti said, putting a hand on Teddy’s arm. She had a slight French accent and a low, pleasant voice.

“It’s true, I don’t,” Gretchen said gratefully. Teddy’s main squeeze was both attractive
and
sensitive, a winning combo in Gretchen’s view.

“Hey, I’m his big brother. He has no secrets from me,” Teddy said, looking back and forth from Gretchen to Marti.

“We all have secrets,” Marti said airily. “Don’t we?”

“Whatever,” Teddy said, taking Marti’s hand. “He always was a drama queen.”

“That isn’t nice, Teddy,” said Gretchen.

“Nice? Who wants to be nice? Nice is for losers.”

Gretchen stared at him. Had Teddy always been such a jerk?

“No, that’s not true, Teddy.” Marti smiled, but there was something firm, even directive in her tone. “The losers are the bitter ones. It’s the winners who can afford to be gracious and kind, no?” She cocked her head in Gretchen’s direction, a small Gallic gesture that completely won Gretchen over; if she’d been inclined to like her before, she was inclined to love her now. Her brother should
not
let this one get away.

“Touché,” said Teddy, looking at her with open adoration. “I promise to be nice from now on.”

“You should be as good to your family as you are to me,” Marti continued.

“Of course,” Teddy said, and he actually bowed at the waist and playfully kissed Marti’s hand. “Your wish is my command.”

Marti smiled serenely. Gretchen was amazed at how this woman had so deftly handled her brother; why, he didn’t even know he’d
been
handled.
Touché,
indeed. Then Marti and Teddy continued down the path toward the pool. Marti turned back to give Gretchen a final smile. Was she winking too? Marti was not close enough for Gretchen to be sure, but somehow she thought that, yes, that was
exactly
what Marti was doing.

W
hy had she taken the ring? This was the question that kept ricocheting off the walls of Justine’s mind and getting in the way of the precious time she got to spend with her father. It wasn’t like she planned to keep it. She hated diamonds. And she didn’t want to hurt Angelica, did she? Then again, maybe she did. Maybe Justine was angry at Angelica: for being in love with that warmonger, for planning this big, dumb wedding, and for betraying everything Justine had ever believed about her.

“So, you girls nixed the camp plan this year?” her father was saying.

“What?” Justine had not been following the thread of the conversation.

“Camp,” her father repeated. “Portia said you had decided not to go.”

“Right, right,” she said. Could anyone see the ring’s bulge in her pocket? Had Angelica realized it was missing yet? What would she do when she did?

“I was hoping maybe you girls would want to come and spend some time with me in August. I’ve rented a little cottage in New Hampshire. It’s on a lake.”

“New Hampshire,” Justine parroted, still not really paying attention. “Lake.”

“We should go,” Portia said to Justine. “Anyway,
I
want to go, Dad. When will you be up there?”

Justine’s thoughts returned to the ring while her father and sister tossed dates back and forth. She had to put it back, that was all. She just had to go upstairs, slip into Angelica’s room, and put it right back where she found it. Easy. Angelica would be having her dress fitted, her nails painted—whatever. She would be out of the room most of the afternoon.

“Okay, then we’ll talk to your mother,” her father said, getting up from the long, curved sofa. He leaned down to kiss her forehead and then Portia’s. “I’m going to put my things away,” he added. “Then maybe we’ll have a swim before the wedding, hey?” Ennis often said
hey
at the end of a sentence, a little conversational tic that Justine and Portia loved, just like they loved his Scottish accent and his uncanny ability to create a whole gallery of shadow puppets—clowns, witches, wolves, birds with flapping wings—on the scuffed lilac wall of their childhood bedroom. Why did her parents have to go and get separated anyway? Now Justine had to, like,
schedule
time with her father. Like he was an orthodontist’s appointment or something.