The Wedding Sisters (7 page)

Toby poured two vodka and tonics into crystal tumblers and joined her on the couch. True friend that he was, he did not demand to satisfy his own curiosity but instead let her sip her drink and calm her nerves.

When Jo finally spoke, it was only to keep her mind from replaying the image of Caroline's face as she walked out the door. “It's over with Caroline. She ended it.” The words didn't sound real. They sounded like lines from a play about someone else's life.

“Damn, Jo. I'm sorry.” He retrieved a bottle of Stoli and two shot glasses. “Did you see it coming?”

“No. Not at all. I was completely blindsided.”

“Was this a fight?”

“No. It wasn't a ‘heat of the moment' thing. She'd clearly—” Her voice broke. “—she'd clearly thought it out. Planned to tell me. Was tormented by it.”

“I hate to ask you this—I don't want to upset you more, but…”

“Yeah. There's someone else. A guy.” With this, a sob came loose, hard and abrupt, a branch suddenly falling from a tree with a sickening crack.

“Fuck,” Toby said, pouring two generous shots. “There's only one thing to do at a time like this. And lucky for you—though you mock my lack of gainful employment—I have nowhere to go tomorrow and am therefore available to get completely, irrevocably annihilated with you.” He handed her a shot, then raised his own for a toast.

She ignored him and downed the drink, welcoming the burn. “I just don't know what to do,” she said, lost.

“There's nothing to do,” said Toby wistfully. “If there's one thing I've learned, it's that you can't make someone want you.”

“How could she do this to me? We love each other.”

“Don't beat yourself up, Jo,” Toby said, pouring another round. “The best thing to do tonight is not think too much.”

Jo drank, and she drank some more. “I started in the friend zone, and I'm ending in the friend zone,” Jo said just as it became difficult to speak clearly.

“I hate the friend zone,” Toby said.

“What do you know about it? You sleep with every woman you meet.”

“Except the only one who matters,” he said softly.

Even through the haze of alcohol, there was no missing the intensity in his blue eyes. His eyes were filled with longing, the longing she had recognized when they first started hanging out but had become inured to over the years. Now, raw with her own grief, she couldn't ignore the pain that was just under the surface of his gaze.

“No, no, no, Lord Tobias Hedegaard-Kruse. Don't do that. Don't make me feel bad. You are rich, you are gorgeous, and you get laid more than any guy I know. I will not feel bad for you!” She poured them both another shot. The room tilted, and the heaviness of her heart lifted. The small shred of rational thinking she had left told her that she would be sorry in the morning, but for now it was sweet relief.

“Sex is nothing,” he said, now slurring too.

“Sex is nothing? Can I quote you on that—when we're not hammered, I mean.”

“Let me finish,” he said, taking another shot. “Sex is nothing compared to love.”

“What do you know about it?” she countered.

“I know I'm in love with you.”

I'm in love with you.
Even through the thick sludge of alcohol slowing her brain synapses to a fuzzy mess, she couldn't avoid the irony. The love of her life had told her just hours ago that she loved her but was not in love with her, and now her best buddy was telling her that he was in love with her.

“Oh God, Toby.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Tell me about it.”

 

five

“I'll help you clear,” Meg said, the first one to offer when it was obvious the dinner party was hurtling toward its conclusion. All that was left was dessert.

All in all, Meryl felt it had been successful. The conversation, while lively, had steered clear of politics. Hugh entertained Tippy with a long-winded but charmingly eccentric story of his trip to Germantown, Pennsylvania, to visit the birthplace of Louisa May Alcott. The building was apparently not far from the Campions' house in Haverford, and Tippy realized that, come to think of it, that was where she'd bought one of their pianos. There was a plaque outside.

“And wasn't Louisa May Alcott's father a teacher, too?” Tippy asked.

“Yes!” Hugh said, delighted.

“I guess I do remember a few things from school!” said Tippy, equally delighted.

Stowe and Andy found they shared an interest in the NHL, and debated the Rangers versus the Philadelphia Flyers. The only one who didn't get into the spirit of things was Amy, who resisted contributing to the conversation no matter how often Meryl or Andy tried to engage her. Luckily a copious intake of wine had kept Meryl calm and smiling. They'd gone through three bottles at least. Still, she made a mental note to talk to Amy about this tomorrow. She couldn't act out for the next eight months until the wedding. She would have to get over it.

“Oh, before I forget,” said Tippy. “And this is something Reed and I had planned to share with you together, but goodness knows when he'll be available!” She laughed before continuing, “But I can't possibly wait any longer: We'd like to throw an engagement party.”

Meryl looked at her, stupefied. The bride's parents were supposed to throw the engagement party, at least according to the small stack of books on modern wedding etiquette she'd bought. She wanted to do everything just right for Meg and had already marked key passages.

Meg and Stowe, beaming at each other, were the first to speak.

“Mom, that's really generous. Thanks,” Stowe said.

“That would be amazing,” said Meg.

Amazing? Meryl looked at her daughter incredulously. Meg wasn't typically prone to hyperbole.

“Sounds terrific,” said Hugh, refilling Tippy's glass.

Meryl shot him a glance, but he didn't notice.

What could she say? Thanks, but that's not necessary? The truth was, she hadn't thought about throwing an engagement party. It wasn't essential, and it was a huge added expense. But if the Campions wanted to contribute in that way, fine. All it did was solidify her feeling that she absolutely didn't want any more input from them—financial or otherwise.

The only one who looked as unhappy as she felt was Amy. And as irritated as she was with her, she couldn't help but feel a twinge at her middle child's being so unhappy.

“I think it's time for dessert,” Meryl said, picking up her plate and Hugh's. Meg stood and collected her own and Stowe's.

“Let me help,” Tippy said, making a polite, halfhearted attempt to rise from her seat.

“No, please—relax. We'll be done in no time,” Meryl said, and waved her away.

She couldn't help but glance at Amy, who made no move to help clear the dishes.

Andy did not fail to notice, however. “Why don't we take a quick walk before dessert?” he said to her.

Amy shrugged.

“It's so lovely that you live right on the water like this,” said Tippy. “If I didn't have to meet up with my husband, I'd suggest we all take a stroll.”

Andy, not wanting to wait for Tippy to reconsider her stance on the matter, hustled a reluctant Amy out the door.

Hugh, left with an audience of three, opened another bottle of wine.

“I haven't seen your father drink this much in a long time,” Meryl commented in the kitchen.

“At least everyone is enjoying themselves,” Meg said.

“Did you know about this engagement party?” Meryl said.

“No—total surprise. But really nice of her, don't you think?”

“
Very
nice.”

Meg pulled on one rubber glove, and Meryl's eyes unwillingly fell to the two-carat, flawless solitaire diamond on her daughter's left hand. It was a beautiful ring. When she'd commented to her youngest daughter that the ring belonged in a Tiffany's ad, Jo said it belonged right where it was: on Meg's finger. Meryl was duly chastened. Time to get on board the Campion train. It seemed it was going to be quite a ride.

“What was Tippy talking to you about in here before dinner?” Meg asked.

She didn't turn around, and Meryl was relieved that she didn't have to face Meg. She didn't want to tell her that Tippy offered to pay for the entire wedding. She knew Meg would be equally mortified, but at the same time, it was a lie of omission and Meg would see it on her face.

“She suggested we use her wedding planner,” Meryl said.

“And what do you think about that?” Meg asked nonchalantly. Too nonchalantly. This was clearly not news to her.

“I told her thanks but no thanks,” Meryl said. “What did you think I'd say?”

Meg turned around, an exasperated edge to her voice. “Mom, don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Be offended.”

“I'm not offended. Why didn't you talk to me about this if you knew she wanted it?”

“Stowe only just mentioned it to me today. You know, it really will save money in the end because she gets such great deals from the vendors.”

“Yes, so she said. It's not so much the expense, Meg. Your father and I are more than capable of throwing your wedding. I don't need the Campions trying to make it into one of their events. Not to mention, I don't need them overly involved with the cost and the budget and other things that frankly aren't their business.” This came out harsher than Meryl intended, and Meg had registered her resentment.

“I think she's just trying to help. In her own way,” Meg responded stiffly.

Meryl's face softened. “Honey, I don't doubt it. But I told her—nicely—that I am really looking forward to planning my daughter's wedding—your wedding, with you—and I don't need help from a stranger.”

“How did she seem to take it?”

Meryl looked closely at her daughter. “Are you worried about offending her? Meg, it's your wedding.”

“I know, I know. And I'm not worried—I just don't want to freeze her out of the process, you know. She should be a part of it too.”

“Don't worry, Meg. The Campions aren't the only ones who know how to be political.”

“Oh my God, you
are
pissed. Mom, please don't be.”

“I just wish you'd told me instead of letting me get ambushed in my own kitchen.” She wondered if Meg also knew about the far more unsettling offer to pay for the entire wedding.

“I would hardly call it an ambush. Forget it—she offered, you said no. It's fine. Let's just move on.”

“Gladly. Do you have time to come back for the afternoon sometime in the next few weeks to do your bridal registry?”

She nodded. “I'll try. Anyway, we should get dessert out there. Tippy has to go meet Reed.”

“Right!”

The box from Ladurée was on the corner of the counter. Meryl opened it. “Macarons?” she said.

“Yes. The bakery flies them in daily from Monaco.”

“You're joking.”

“No. At least, that's what Tippy told me.”

“If it's true, that's outrageous!”

Meryl took the chocolate cake down from the top of the refrigerator, where she'd left it to stand to reach room temperature. “I hope Amy doesn't miss dessert,” she said quietly.

“What's her problem tonight?”

Meryl sighed. “Meg, she's always been competitive. And she's been with Andy for years now, and you meet Stowe and boom—engaged. It's just hard on her. You'd feel the same way if you were her.”

“Okay, first of all, we dated for a year before he proposed—that's not exactly ‘boom, engaged.' Secondly, Stowe and I are the type of people who know what we want and go after it. It's not my fault Andy is dragging his feet. He's a nice guy, but he really seems to just coast on his father, you know what I mean?”

“Honey, it's not her fault either.”

“I know, Mom. I'm just saying, if she's annoyed with anyone, it should be with Andy, not me. And there's no use in her taking it out on me for the next eight months. She should be happy for me. And if she gets engaged someday, I'll be happy for her.”

They carried the dessert into the dining room. Meryl had hoped that by some chance Amy would be there, but was not surprised to find she wasn't.

“These macarons look delicious,” Meryl said, placing down the tray. Really, she had to lighten up about Tippy. She had made an appearance at dinner, seemed to be having a good time, even, and Meryl had made it clear they didn't need any help with paying for the wedding, thank-you-very-much—everyone could move on and just enjoy the planning.

“They fly them in from Monaco every day,” Tippy said.

“Really?” said Meryl. She and Meg shared a conspiratorial smile, and for the first time all night, she felt close to her daughter. She would never admit to having a favorite, but there had always been something about her relationship with Meg—a shared language, an effortless connection. Even when Meg was a teenager, when everyone warned Meryl not to take it personally if she pulled away, their closeness hadn't diminished. With Amy, there were always her moods, her sense of entitlement, her competitiveness. And Jo, a sweet girl, was certainly the most good-natured out of them all, but Meryl always had a hard time understanding her.

“Should we wait for Amy?” asked Hugh.

“I think we should just start without them. Stowe's dad is expecting Tippy to join him soon,” said Meg.

“No, it's okay,” said Stowe. “We don't have to rush.”

“Darling, she's right. I have to get going,” said Tippy.

Tippy left with effusive praise for the dinner and apologies for Reed's absence. When she leaned in to give Meryl an air kiss, she said quietly, “Please think about our conversation.”

Meryl didn't know if Tippy meant the part about them paying for the wedding, or the part about the wedding planner, but she nodded politely.