Dockside (31 page)

Charles eyed him speculatively. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

Greg carefully looped the long end of the tie, his movements precise and practiced, which was odd, since he hadn’t worn a tux in ages. In fact, it was the same damn tux, altered over the years, he’d worn as best man at Philip’s wedding and then to his own. Both marriages had failed. Maybe this was a bad-luck tux. “Am I crazy, thinking I can do this, all over again?”

“Could be. But why would that stop you?”

“I don’t want to blow it this time, Dad.”

“Take your own advice. Give it your best effort and don’t try to predict the future.”

Walking around the camp, past playing fields, wilderness trails and bunkhouses, filled Greg with memories. In the ball court, Max and some other boys had already shed their jackets and were shooting hoops. Greg yelled at him not to mess up his wedding clothes, but then kept walking. He found his thoughts turning to Nina, but the guests hadn’t started to arrive yet. Maybe he should go find Sophie. This was, after all, the place where they’d married long ago. He felt curiously detached from the past, and he wondered if it was the same for Sophie. Since she’d come to Avalon for the wedding, he had spent minimal time with her. The wounds of their marriage had scarred over, though they still ached, and neither of them felt eager to test the strength of their healing. All things considered, he and Sophie were doing a passable job of being exes. Certainly they were better at that than they were at being married.

He thought about Max’s attitude, voiced earlier. Was that all the boy had seen? Greg hoped like hell Max would remember that there had been periods of happiness, even moments of joy. But gradually, the dynamic had shifted; there was no denying it. No one had wanted to see or speak of it. Ultimately, though, they all saw the shadow of change, sweeping over them like clouds across the sun. When the four of them were together, they hadn’t felt like a family, not in the end. The essential connection, tenuous at best, was gone. Sure, there was still love and caring—for the kids. Between Greg and Sophie, there existed a kind of benign respect.

She seemed different, though Greg couldn’t say why. She still possessed that formidable Nordic beauty, and when it came to her professional life, she exuded confidence. But when confronted with her kids, she seemed chastened. Maybe even humbled. Whether it was right or not, they had turned from Sophie. Their rejection had cut deep, exposing a hidden vulnerability that used to be cloaked by her steely reserve.

He hadn’t asked her how she was doing. Should he? The role of ex-husband didn’t come naturally to him. He knew how to be civil, though. If he could start with that, maybe he’d figure it out.

“Hey,” he said, stepping into the bunkhouse. Inside was an explosion of femininity—garment bags and trimming from bouquets, satin ribbon, spray bottles and jars of things designed to primp and tint and lacquer.

Sophie was by herself, in a sleeveless, light blue dress, ironing a matching jacket. She’d always been a master-ironer, able to smooth every surface of any garment, making it look brand-new again. She worked with efficient competence, down to the last detail.

Greg thought of Nina, who had probably never ironed a thing in her life and didn’t intend to.

He ran a finger around the inside of his collar, wondering what kind of etiquette governed this situation. Did he owe Sophie any sort of explanation? He stood and watched her, a stranger he knew with searing intimacy. She knew him the same way, and maybe she always had. He remembered the day he’d told her he was going to sell his firm, move from Manhattan to Avalon.

“Of course you are,” was all she’d said, yet in those four little words was a world of understanding. Now that he thought about it, Greg realized those were the words that had officially ended their marriage.

Sophie’s response in the wake of divorce had been different. Something in her compelled her to flee. To run away, fast and far, to hide in a crowd of strangers. Maybe she reinvented herself, showed them an entirely different side of her. He didn’t know. It wasn’t his business. Sophie had been running from trouble and hurt for as long as he’d known her. After their breakup in college, she had gone abroad to study in Japan, neither of them knowing when the decision was made that she was already pregnant with Daisy.

And so the pattern was set. When it came to her personal life, Sophie didn’t retreat from trouble; she fled.

“Did you need something, Greg?” she asked.

“I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

She glided the iron over the jacket. “Why on earth would you even ask?”

“Because I care. For the kids’ sake, I do care, Soph, and for the sake of who we used to be to each other. So…I’m sorry you’re not okay. Is there anything I can do?”

She smiled. “No, thank you. You’ve done enough.”

“Hey, Mom, Dad, can I talk to you?” Daisy took a tentative step into the room.

She looked so terribly young at the moment, with her hair in plastic curlers, like a kid playing dress-up. Except she wasn’t playing at anything. Everything was for real. For keeps. “Okay, um, maybe this’ll take a little more than a minute,” she added. “It’s probably not the best timing, but it’s not easy, finding the two of you together.”

He and Sophie hadn’t made it too easy. They’d become masters of avoiding each other.

Daisy looked from him to Sophie, then back at him. “First of all, I want to tell you both thank you. I haven’t actually said that until now—just, thank you. For everything you’ve given me all my life, and for being so great about the baby. Thank you. I couldn’t have asked for more.”

Greg glanced at Sophie. Daisy hadn’t spoken kindly to her mother in a long time. Sophie was blinking back tears, although she held her face perfectly impassive.

“Honey, you know we’d do anything for you,” he said.

She nodded. “I need to tell you something. Dad, I know you thought I’d stay here and work with you at the inn. But I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’ve decided to do something else.”

Greg felt a fistlike clenching of his gut. He literally had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from reacting.

Sophie said nothing.

“Did you know anything about this?” he demanded.

“Don’t you dare accuse me—”

“Stop it,” Daisy snapped. “Just for once, will the two of you please listen to me and not get in a fight?”

Greg clenched his jaw and fell silent, his eyes narrowed in suspicion at Sophie. He could feel her waiting to pounce on the opportunity Daisy was offering. Maybe Sophie saw a chance to finally get their daughter to move overseas with her.

No way, he thought. Over my dead body.

“I’m going to be moving out of the house,” Daisy said.

“Daisy, now is not the time—”

“I have to think about my own life. My future. I’m not sure what it is but I know what it’s not. It’s not here, at the inn. It’s the only future I’ve got, and I don’t want to spend it doing something because I think it’s expected of me, or because you or anyone else says it’s best.”

A hundred objections crowded up into Greg’s throat. He clenched his teeth to keep them in, but it was no use. “Your life is here,” he said.

“Maybe it
is
here,” Daisy said, “but then again, maybe it’s not. The point is, I need to figure it out on my own.”

Greg caught the scent of something burning. “Soph,” he said.

She snatched up the iron, revealing a brown triangular burned spot in the jacket she’d been working on. She held it up and shook her head. “Ruined,” she said. “And Daisy, you have a beautiful room and nursery at your father’s house. Are you saying you don’t want that anymore?”

“I’m saying I appreciate everything,” Daisy said hastily, placatingly. “But I don’t want a room. I want a life of my own. I’m not leaving tomorrow, but I
am
leaving. I’ll wait until after Christmas and the start of spring semester. I want to get a place of my own, a job to support myself. I want to go to school. I already sent in my application to the college at New Paltz.”

Greg couldn’t help himself. It was the kind of insane, idealistic plan he might have expected from the old Daisy. “I don’t get it. Christ, I bought the inn, thinking it would be a good, safe place for you to make a life.”

“Maybe you should have checked with me first, Dad,” she snapped at him.

“Maybe you should have checked with me before getting knocked up,” he snapped back. Oh, shit. Had he really said that? He caught the expression on his daughter’s face. Yes. He’d really said that. “Daze, I didn’t mean it.”

“I know. Dad, believe me, I know.” She made a face, as though she felt a twinge of pain, and pressed her hand to the small of her back.

“I’m just completely surprised by this. Honey, do you know how hard that’s going to be?”

“A lot of things are hard. Golf. Climbing Mount Everest. Giving birth. That doesn’t stop people from doing them.”

Greg glared at Sophie. “Say something, will you?”

She lifted her chin defensively. “She’s a grown woman. I’m not going to tell her what to do.”

“Mom’s right,” Daisy said, intervening before things escalated between them. “I just need to be on my own,” she concluded.

“That’s insane,” Greg said. “You need to be with your family. You’ve got a baby to support.”

“Two words, Dad,” Daisy reminded him. “Trust fund. Grandpa Bellamy set them up for each of his grandchildren.”

Right, thought Greg. He crushed his teeth together to keep from mouthing off again. He couldn’t help it, though. “You’re too young. I’m not letting you do this.”

“Dad, just listen to me. This is my life. My decision. Nina said—”

“Nina?” asked Sophie. “What’s she got to do with you finding your life?”

Greg felt sucker punched. This was not the first time he’d heard those words. Daisy had been talking to Nina. She’d told him this. She’d known it was going to happen. How had she known? “Nina told you to go off half-cocked like that?”

“I made the decision myself. And it’s not half-cocked. It’s what I want. I know it’s safe to stay here with you, and for a long time, I tried to make myself believe that was the best plan. Then I realized the only reason I was staying was that I thought I needed to be here for you and Max. But I need to go, Dad. For me.” She went and hugged Sophie and then Greg. “Anyway, that’s what I wanted to tell you. Just so you’ll know. I’ll see you after the ceremony, okay?”

Once she’d left, Greg turned to Sophie. She put up a hand to hold him silent. “Before you say anything, I want you to know, I had nothing to do with that, nothing whatsoever.”

“I know,” he said, beginning to do a slow burn when he thought of Nina.

Sophie raised her eyebrows. “You mean everything’s not my fault?”

“Soph.”

“Then we’re making progress. And maybe nothing will come of this,” she added. “We shouldn’t worry about anything until there’s something to worry about.”

There was something to worry about, all right. Their daughter had always been this way, keeping everything in and not making her move until she knew what move to make. Daisy never would have brought the subject up if she hadn’t been a hundred percent serious.

A
s they drove along the lakeshore road on the way to the wedding, Nina tried to hide her nervousness. Twice, she caught herself reaching up to twist a lock of hair.

Sonnet, who’d always had a kind of radar for her mother’s moods, shot her a glance from the driver’s seat. “Relax, Mom. I didn’t forget how to drive while I was in Belgium.”

Nina was relieved Sonnet had mistaken the source of her nervousness. “I realize that, but you get rusty. Out of practice. That’s why I wanted you to drive. To get back in the game. Everything gets better with practice.”

“Dad let me drive a mobylette around the base,” Sonnet said. “It’s kind of like a moped but with a tiny engine, so you can’t go very fast.”

Nina’s blood chilled. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Didn’t want to worry you.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” she said. “You shouldn’t keep things from me to spare me the worry.”

“Mom. You do it to me, all the time. You always have.”

And just like that, Nina realized Sonnet understood her in ways she’d never imagined. No one loved her the way Sonnet did.

“So what was it like, really, being part of a two-parent family?” she asked.

“It was all right. Interesting.”

“In what way?”

“I never saw a marriage up close before. Never quite clued in on the way it worked.”

“What did you think?”

“Dad and Angela…they’re good together. Not perfect, but they take care of each other.”

Nina was moved by Sonnet’s wistful tone. “That’s what I want for you one day.” She wanted her daughter to learn how people loved each other and, yes, how they hurt each other. She wanted Sonnet to figure out how to survive all of it and still be able to hold hands with the same guy after fifty years.

The turnoff to Camp Kioga was marked by a cluster of pearl-white helium balloons. “It’s what I want for you, too, Mom.”

Nina felt a surge of emotion. This thing with Greg was turning her into a leaky faucet. She looked out the window to cover her reaction. As the deep, shadowy forest flickered past, she took a deep breath, blinked fast and tried to regain her equilibrium.

“Mom?” Sonnet prodded.

“That’s sweet of you,” Nina said.

They arrived a bit early for the wedding. Camp Kioga was beautifully festooned for the occasion and the parking lot was full. People had waited a long time for Olivia and Connor to get married, and a good many guests were expected. Nina scanned the area for Greg, but didn’t see him. She hadn’t slept well last night as she tied herself in knots, wondering what she would say to him. He seemed convinced that they were falling in love, making the declaration as easily as if he were giving a weather report. She wasn’t so certain, yet she knew she was consumed by her unadmitted obsession with him. All right, she admitted it to herself. She was obsessed with the man. She’d never experienced anything like…whatever it was she was having with him. It had exploded into far more than a one-night stand. They’d been together every chance they got. So was it a fling? No, not a fling. A fling was lighthearted, fun and frothy. And finite. She couldn’t quite convince herself that the thing with Greg was a fling.

“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.