The Good Wife (13 page)

“So I’d come in and help her,” he added with another half smile. “And I warn you, I’m not a cook, not even close, but I’ve learned how to be good company.”

Lauren stared at him for an endless moment before going to him and giving him a fierce hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for being there for her.”

“I love her.”

Lauren’s eyes stung. She stepped back and smiled a watery smile. “I’m glad.”

He clapped his hands on her shoulders, held firm. “And I love you.”

Suddenly she couldn’t hang on to her smile. She looked up into his face, and yet he’d gone all blurry with her tears.

He squeezed her shoulders again then let go. “So. Let’s get to work. What do I do first?”

Eight

A
fter spending all morning cooking, Lauren was ready for the reception at Meg’s house on Friday afternoon. She was also ready for it to be over so she could head back to Alameda.

She loved her family, and beautiful Napa, but her tiny little apartment in Alameda was easier. Quieter. Free of all these complicated relationships and even more complicated emotions.

Lauren and Lisa were in Meg’s kitchen, warming everything and still setting up the buffet when Lauren heard the first of the cars approach.

A series of dark limousines pulled up before the door. One limousine, two, three, four.

The Roberts and Brennan families were back, returning from the brief, formal funeral service for Jack at Santa Rosa’s oldest Episcopal church, the Church of the Incarnation. Lauren knew the small 1873 church well, as one of her friends from high school had been married there and Lauren had decorated the church and hall for them, donating her time, as well as the flowers, to help Allie save on expenses.

“They’re here,” Lauren said, quickly drying her hands and removing her apron. She’d be serving the late lunch, and cleaning up with two other girls hired for the occasion while Preston handled the bar and Lisa manned the kitchen. “They’d said it would be a brief service. Didn’t realize that meant under thirty minutes.”

“They’re back way too early,” Lisa answered, bending awkwardly at the stove to remove three cookie sheets of sourdough rolls and cheese biscuits from the oven, one after the other, all while being very careful not to bump her belly. “Nothing’s ready.”

“The bar is ready. The wines are uncorked, and the lemonade and iced tea are already out. What more do we need?”

Lisa wiped her damp brow. “Um, food?”

Car doors slammed outside. Voices echoed as people approached the house. Lauren glanced outside and spotted Meg walking toward the front door, her arms around her daughters, her black coat draped in the crook of one elbow. Her black dress was simple, almost severe, and her dark hair was scraped back in a low, unattractive knot, but as she focused on her girls, her expression was kind.

Lauren’s chest ached and she turned away from the window, not wanting to see more, because it would just make her feel more, and feeling wasn’t something she could, or would, do today. “People can wait,” she said crisply. “They’ll drink. They’ll talk. They’ll be fine.”

Lisa shot her younger sister an incredulous glance. “I can’t believe you’re so calm. You used to be the queen of panic, Miss Type A, always stressing out.”

Lauren shrugged as she opened the refrigerator and drew out two of the silver trays filled with miniature sandwiches and peeled the plastic wrap off each. “I’ve learned that not everything is life and death because there is real life and death.”

Lisa cringed. “Oh God. Sorry—”

“Why apologize? You didn’t say anything wrong. You asked why I’m chill, and so I told you. Now sit for a second. Catch your breath. It’s about to get crazy.”

* * *

S
arah was grateful to be back at Meg’s house. The service, surprisingly similar to the Catholic Church’s funeral service, did not include a Eucharist, due to its being Good Friday, which kept things brief.

Pleasingly brief.

Carrying Ella into the house, Sarah felt a little guilty for being happy that the service was short, but the last week had been beyond grueling, with everyone unraveling beneath the stress and grief of two deaths, and two funerals, in a little more than a week. Sarah, by being the youngest, had never really been caught up in the family dramas until this last year when she’d been shocked and outraged that Meg—
Meg
—had cheated on her husband with her vintner boss, Chad.

But now Sarah found herself struggling with Brianna and Kit, too.

It didn’t help that today in the church, she had sat behind Meg, her kids, and Jack’s parents, squished into her pew with Ella on one side and Kit and Jude jammed against the other.

Tommy and Cass were supposed to be sitting with Sarah and Ella, but at the last second Brianna claimed Cass and Tommy, forcing Jude, Kit, and Sarah into the same pew.

Nice, Brianna. Thanks.

Just because Sarah had gone to Meg the other night and asked her to please ignore what she had said about Jude didn’t mean everything was okay between Sarah and Kit. It wasn’t. Kit was still angry with her and Sarah didn’t know how to process what Brianna had said about the whole molestation thing.

Sarah shuddered. She didn’t want to know more, didn’t want any of the details. It was too horrifying, too overwhelming to imagine her sisters going through it, living with it, but then, on the other hand, she
ought
to know. Weren’t sisters supposed to know these things?

But after two weeks of being here in California, with her
sisters,
Sarah was tapped out. Families, especially big Irish-American families filled with opinionated sisters, were a lot of work.

Meg’s voice in the entryway caught Sarah’s attention. She glanced at Meg, who stood surrounded by her kids as people pressed toward them, offering condolences.

Sarah didn’t know how Meg did it. Gabi had been hysterical during the funeral service, lying across her mother’s lap, sobbing uncontrollably.

Jack’s parents had been clearly uncomfortable with Gabi’s grief, and Jack’s mother, Abigail, even said something under her breath to Meg about the girl’s excessive display of emotion. Meg had simply looked into her mother-in-law’s eyes until Abigail dropped her gaze.

Score one for Mary Margaret,
Sarah had thought.

Meg was just as amazing now with the people gathered around her. She was Mary Margaret at her best, talking, listening, warmly thanking people for coming. It’s what Mom would have done. But then, as the oldest child, Meg had learned from the best.

Sarah put Ella down. “Let’s find you something to eat,” she said, taking her daughter’s hand.

“I’m not hungry,” Ella said, backing closer to Sarah as two big teenage boys passed by. Ella was always more clingy when strangers were around. Sarah hoped she would one day develop more confidence, but she hadn’t yet.

“I bet those are JJ’s friends,” Sarah said, smoothing her daughter’s dark hair. “Do you think they play baseball like JJ and Daddy?”

Ella barely glanced at the boys. “I don’t know.” She tugged on her mom’s hand. “Can I go upstairs? Play with Molly?” she asked, referring to the brown-haired, blue-eyed American Girl doll she got for Christmas and insisted on taking everywhere.

“Do you want to get her and bring her downstairs?”

Ella’s gaze scanned the room. “I just want to go upstairs.”

“Okay. I’ll be down here if you need me.”

* * *

T
wenty minutes into the reception, Lauren moved through the crowded living room, doing her first sweep for dirty plates, discarded, lipstick-smudged wineglasses, and balled-up cocktail napkins that would inevitably hide a toothpick or two. But most people hadn’t eaten yet and she succeeded in rescuing only two wine goblets and one lonely plate.

She couldn’t wait to escape the living room, though, and focused on breathing through her mouth to avoid inhaling the fragrant lilies, roses, and gardenias used in the lavish floral arrangements that covered every flat surface.

So many flowers.

So many people.

So much like Blake’s funeral.

But she wouldn’t think about Blake, not today. She was just going to work, and stay busy, and get through the day so she could return to her little apartment in Alameda tonight.

A firm hand reached out, stopping her. “Lauren.”

She looked up into Chad Hallahan’s eyes. “Hi,” she said, surprised, and yet not surprised to see him, as the Hallahans had insisted on donating all the wine for the reception today, and Chad had personally dropped the bottles off this morning. He’d worn jeans and a T-shirt earlier. Now he was dressed in black trousers and a white dress shirt, open at the collar, and looked as blond, bronzed, and ruggedly handsome as ever.

“How’s Meg doing?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Haven’t really talked to her today. There are always so many people around her.”

He looked away, his brow creasing. “Hate this,” he muttered.

“It’s horrible,” she agreed, thinking that tongues would soon be wagging. Over the summer, even though Lauren had been grieving Blake’s death, she’d still caught some of the gossip about Chad and Meg. Napa was a small town and all the locals knew one another’s business, good and bad, and so through the hot summer months, people discussed Meg’s affair with her boss, Chad, speculating about what had happened, as well as what would happen in the future. Would Jack Roberts divorce his wife or would he take her back? Would Meg leave her husband for Chad? Would Meg and Jack be able to work it out?

And now Chad was here, which would result in more gossip.

“I’d heard you’d moved to Berkeley,” Chad said.

“Alameda,” she corrected. “Moved in September. I’m managing a little New Orleans–style café there.”

“Beignets and café au lait?”

“And lots of omelets, grits, and biscuits, too.”

“A breakfast place?”

“Breakfast and lunch. We close at three, and I’m usually out of there by four, but we’re toying with trying to stay open, see if we can draw a dinner crowd.”

“Where is it?”

“On Park Street, just down from Books, Inc.”

Chad looked apologetic. “I don’t know Alameda.”

“The downtown’s cute. It’s got a little historic district and I live close enough to ride my bike to work.”

“So you’re just back for today?”

Lauren nodded. “Meg needed help.” She stumbled a little over Meg’s name, feeling strange to be talking about Meg with him, even though she’d catered a dozen different events at the winery during the past six years, and she’d always been comfortable around the Hallahans and Meg.

“Thank you for handling the reception,” he said. “I’m glad it’s you, although I know it can’t be easy.”

Lauren shrugged, not wanting to go there.

“I hope you won’t stay away forever,” he added. “We miss you in Napa.”

She nodded, forced a smile. She’d gone to school with Chad and Craig, who was older, just as their parents had gone to school together. The Hallahans, like the Summers, were an old ranching family that dated back to the late nineteenth century. She knew Chad lived in his great-grandfather’s farmhouse now.

“I haven’t left for good,” she said briskly, smiling, keeping her voice strong. “Just a change of scenery.”

But Chad saw past her tough-girl facade. He reached out, touched her shoulder. “How are you doing?”

She couldn’t let him in, couldn’t let his kindness shatter her control. “Fine.”

“He was a really good kid, Lauren.”

She felt a little crack in the ice around her heart. It couldn’t happen. She didn’t want to feel. Didn’t want to feel anything at all. “Don’t,” she gritted. “Can’t.”

“We all miss him,” he added. “And I never drive past your old place on First without thinking about him.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Meeks blew it. Blew it in a big way.”

Her smile faded, and she looked away, suddenly dizzy and nauseous. “Lisa’s here,” she said, her voice sounding faint to her own ears. “She’s pregnant. Due next month. Have you seen her?”

“No. Where is she?”

“In the kitchen. Come say hello to her before you leave.”

“I will.”

She flashed a smile, hoped it
was
a smile, and then murmured something about needing to get rid of the dishes, before disappearing into the crowded hall; she slipped past Lisa in the kitchen, put everything in the heavy plastic trays in the mud room, and then stepped outside, hands on her hips, gulping air to keep from bursting into tears.

How hard.

How hard all of this was. Life and death, loving and losing, and trying to move forward, because what else could you do? She was only thirty-five. Too young to lie down and die. No, she’d fight through this, fight to make it, not merely for her own sake, but for Blake’s. He deserved to be remembered. He deserved to be cherished. And as long as she lived, he’d live in her heart, and that’s all she could do now. Keep him in her heart. Love him with all her heart.

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” Lisa asked from the doorway.

Lauren turned around, hands knotting. “People want to talk about him. They want to tell me he was good, and wonderful, but I can’t handle it. I can’t.”

“That’s because everybody here knew him, and loved him.”

“Everybody but his own father!”

“Oh, Lauren, don’t even go there!” Lisa put a hand on her belly. “John was a seed, a spark, not a father. We all adored Blake. He was our boy, too.”

Lauren nodded, knowing it was true. She’d been sixteen when she’d gotten pregnant, seventeen when she had her baby, and her family helped her raise him the first couple of years while Lauren finished school.

“If you want to go, I can manage the rest,” Lisa added.

Lauren straightened, squaring her shoulders. “I’m not leaving you.”

“I can see this is killing you.”

“It’s hard, but it’s not killing me. I’m a Summer. Tough, thanks to our hearty German DNA.”

Lisa stepped back so Lauren could enter the house before closing the door behind her. “It is good to see you. I’ve missed you.”

Lauren patted Lisa’s belly. “I can’t believe how big you’ve gotten.”

Lisa’s eyes widened. “She just kicked!” she said, grabbing Lauren’s hand and putting it back on her belly. The baby obliged by kicking again, hard.

“Feisty little thing,” Lauren said.

“Just like her Aunt Lauren.” Lisa held her sister’s gaze. “’Cause Aunt Lauren’s inspiring. Strong. And beautiful—”

“Stop.”

“You are.”

“Don’t feel very strong. Feel pretty damn broken.”

“Fortunately, feelings aren’t reality. They’re just feelings.” Lisa’s gaze rested on her sister’s face. “Meg told me how much she appreciates you coming home to do this. I appreciate it, too. It’s nice working with you again. Have missed it.”

Lauren felt a pang of regret. “I abandoned you, didn’t I?”