Wedding in Great Neck (9781101607701) (14 page)

“I was eight, Dad,” she said. “Maybe even nine.” But the praise made her beam like a tensor lamp inside.

“Eight, seven, same thing.” He scanned her face. “So you’ll come to New Hampshire with Portia, hey?”

“I will. But I want to start my SAT prep this summer; I’m taking a course, and I’ll have to fit it in around that,” she said, reaching for her robe.

“Kind of early, isn’t it?” He sounded concerned.

“Never too early for SAT prep,” Justine said. God, but she sounded like her uncle Teddy. Hideous thought. “Not if you want to aim high.”

“You do aim high,” her father said.

Why did he sound so wistful? Justine shook off the feeling. She would not let the moody blues come over her; she would
not.
Belting her robe tightly around her waist, she added, “Anyway, don’t worry so much. I’ll come see you this summer.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They started toward the house and passed the tent where the ceremony was to be held. Justine had to admit it looked pretty, the opening framing a green expanse of lawn behind it. That was where Angelica and Ohad would exchange their vows. Rows of white folding chairs had been set under it as well, and a long roll of white carpeting had been unfurled, creating a smooth aisle down which the couple would walk. Justine knew that Angelica had a pair of killer heels and clearly was not going to risk tripping.

But then Justine remembered, as if waking up from a dream, that none of this was going to happen, not if she had her way. The tent, the chairs, the ribbon of white—all wasted, beside the point once she had presented Angelica with the proof.

She started walking more quickly now, eager to get back to the house so she could change, grab her phone, and begin the hunt for Ohad. She had told Portia she would come and check out her haircut. And the ring—she had yet to return the ring. Damn it! She’d let herself be distracted by the water and a little face time with her father. How dumb was that? She broke into a trot.

“What’s your hurry?” her father called. He was lagging behind, still clutching the towel like a sad cape around him.

“I’m starving,” she called back. “I haven’t eaten a thing all day.” Which in fact was true, but she had been way too jittery to eat. She went into the breakfast room to see whether there was still anything there. And, yes, there was food arranged on the table and the sideboard; Justine helped herself to a banana and began to peel it. But before she had taken the first bite, she practically ran into her grandmother, who had come striding in. Right behind her was Angelica.

“I didn’t see it; I wasn’t even in your room this morning,” Grandma Betsy was saying.

“I left it right there on the dresser, in my jewelry case,” Angelica said. “I can show you the exact spot.”

“Then it should still be there,” Betsy said.

“But it’s not. That’s the whole point. Everything else is there—my chain, my locket, my bracelet.” She gave her hair an impatient shake. “Do you think it could have been one of the maids?”

“Carmelita or Esperanza?” Betsy stopped, hand pressed to her chest. “Absolutely not. Not even a chance.”

“Can we at least ask them, Mom? I’m not saying one of them took it. But maybe it got moved or tucked away somewhere.”

“We can ask, of course we can ask, but I don’t see how that’s going to help.” Betsy sounded exasperated.

“What are you looking for?” Justine asked. Like she didn’t
know
. She only hoped her voice did not betray her guilt, which was quietly sucking the air right out of her lungs. She squeezed the banana so tightly she felt it turn to mush in her fingers. Ew.

“My diamond engagement ring,” Angelica said. “It’s missing.”

No, it’s not
, Justine wanted to say.
I have it safe and sound right here.
Look
. But when she dipped her other, non-banana-smeared hand into the pocket of the now-damp terry robe, it came up empty. She froze, unable to believe it, so she checked again and a third time. Then she checked the other pocket, thinking she might have been mistaken about where she’d put it. But that too was empty. Impossible as it seemed, the ring—glittering, expensive, and much exclaimed over—was gone.

L
enore laid out her entire ensemble on her bed: brocade dress, matching coat, earrings, purse, gloves, and panty hose in a flattering shade of celadon. She hated having to wear hose on such a warm day, but she was an old woman, and no one wanted to see an old woman’s legs. Not even her. Decades ago she had scandalized her mother-in-law by running around in saucy cuffed shorts. “Cover yourself!” she’d cried. “It’s a
shandah
!” But Monty had loved the shorts and the generous expanse of pale skin they had revealed. “You’ve got the gams of a showgirl,” he had always said. “The gams of a showgirl.”

Placing the gold shoes on a hand towel, Lenore set them alongside the pieces she had already assembled. Next she selected her foundation garments: Lily of France lace bra and matching panties, half-slip with a delicate scalloped border. Then she went into the bathroom—it had been cleaned
again
in her absence—to find her cosmetics: the powder blush, eyebrow pencil, frosted lipstick, and the travel-sized bottle of Shalimar, which had been her evening fragrance for the past forty years.

When she came back into the room, she noticed that the panty hose were no longer on the bed, where she had left them. Odd. Had she put them somewhere else and forgotten? Old people were forgetful; that was the cliché. But not her. Not yet, anyway. Her memory was good, her mind sharp. So where were the panty hose? They couldn’t have just vanished.

Then she saw something pale green fluttering along the floor near the end of the bed. Lenore walked around to see Betsy’s little dog; the creature had the panty hose in her mouth and was shredding the sheer fabric with her white, pointed teeth.

“Bad dog!” Lenore scolded. Bright black eyes unblinking, the dog looked up at her. She did not seem perturbed by the admonishment and continued her shredding. “You give me those right now,” said Lenore. The shredding ceased, and the dog cocked her head. Progress. Lenore inched closer and seized the hose. The dog shook her head, but she did not let go.
She thinks we’re
playing,
Lenore realized.
She thinks this is a game.

But it was not a game. Lenore needed the panty hose to wear tonight; she had not brought an extra pair along with her. She yanked the hose from between the dog’s clenched teeth. Startled, the dog jumped up and began circling furiously. Then she squatted, leaving a small, dark puddle on the rug.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Lenore said out loud. How had the dog even found her way into the room? How she’d gotten the panty hose—now ruined—was not a mystery: Lenore remembered that she had left the legs hanging over the side of the bed. The dog, while small, could have easily pulled them down.

Lenore tried to grab the dog, but the creature eluded her easily. She may have been small, but she was speedy. Lenore lunged again, nearly losing her balance. But she caught herself and sat down. This was ridiculous. Betsy would have to coax the creature out of here. And then one of the maids could help with the cleanup.

Now, where was Betsy? She’d better go and find her before that stain had a chance to set. Lenore cast a last glance at the dog, now sitting on the rug and panting slightly with a sorrowful look on her face.
Why are you going?
The black eyes seemed to contain a question.
Can’t I go too?
For a moment Lenore understood why Betsy was so taken with the dog. Such an intense, focused expression. Like she wanted something.
Knew
something. Then the moment passed.

At the top of the stairs Lenore nearly collided with Angelica, who was clearly in a big hurry; Betsy followed in her wake. “Neither of them touched the ring,” Betsy was saying. “They didn’t even go into the room.”

“How can you be so sure?” Angelica whirled around to ask. “Were you keeping watch up there all morning?”

“No, but I know both of them, and I am positive that neither one of them took it.”

“Took what?” Lenore asked, looking first at her daughter and then her granddaughter. “What’s missing?”

“My engagement ring, that’s all!” said Angelica. She sounded impatient, and Lenore was hurt. Well, she’d always been an imperious girl.

“There’s no need to snap at Grandma,” Betsy said. “None of this is her fault.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault? Is that what you’re implying?”

“I never said that,” Betsy said. “Honey, you’re twisting every word I say. I know you’re tense because of the wedding—”

“That’s exactly right! I am tense! Exceedingly, extremely tense! It’s my wedding day, and my beautiful ring, my
engagement
ring, is missing. And it doesn’t seem like you care very much.”

“Of course I care! I don’t see how you can say that when I’ve gone to such trouble and expense for this wedding. You’re being unreasonable. And rude.”

Angelica did not answer but marched down the hall in the direction of her room. Betsy followed, and Lenore decided she ought to go along too. The delinquent dog remained behind, but given these more pressing concerns, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt for the animal to stay there a little while longer. As for the stain on the rug, Lenore thought that a little seltzer—or was it white vinegar?—would take care of it. She hurried along behind her daughter and granddaughter.

Lenore knew that losing an engagement ring on the day of the wedding could be viewed as a bad omen. But she was not superstitious, so she didn’t view the loss as an omen of any kind at all. Only an inconvenience. The ring was probably insured and so could be replaced, though she knew better than to say that now. No, Angelica wanted everything to be perfect on this day of days, and the disappearance of the ring was interfering with that vision of perfection. Best to humor her.

“Where was it last?” Betsy asked as they all entered the room.

“Right there.” Angelica pointed to the dresser, where a zippered leather case, still filled with the rest of her jewelry, sat open. Lenore walked over to get a better look. She recognized the locket Angelica wore all the time. And the charm bracelet, once hers, that she had given to her granddaughter.

Then she glanced around the room. What was she looking for? She didn’t know, but it would come to her. And then quite effortlessly it did.

“Angelica, did you make the bed this morning?” Lenore asked.

“The bed? No. I had so much to do, and besides, Mom asks the maids to do it.” She turned to her mother. “Didn’t you say that neither of them were up here?”

“Well, I didn’t think they were,” Betsy began.

“You didn’t think, but you didn’t know for sure, did you?” Angelica looked at Lenore. “Thank you, Grandma; you’re quite the cunning little sleuth. It’s pretty clear that at least
one
of them was in here today, if only to make the bed.”

“That’s a serious accusation,” Betsy said. “I think we should explore all the options before we’re so quick to condemn anyone.”

“Who’s condemning?” Angelica said. She sat down on the bed. “But could it hurt to ask a few questions?”

“Was anyone else up here?” Lenore asked.

Betsy, no longer so confident, looked down. “I don’t know,” she said.

“Justine was here,” Angelica said. “I ran into her earlier. She seemed surprised to see me.”

“Justine was in here?” Betsy asked. Angelica nodded. “We should ask her if she saw the ring.”

“Definitely,” Angelica said. And then: “Ohad was in here. Things were hectic at the hotel, and he came over to have a rest.”

So Ohad naps too, thought Lenore, obscurely pleased by this information; she herself often felt the need to take naps these days. But she only said, “Let’s ask everyone to join us. Ohad, Justine, the maids. It would be good to talk to everyone.”

“That’s a very smart idea,” said Betsy. To Lenore she suddenly looked drained, as if all the color had been sucked from her face.

“It is,” agreed Angelica. She put her arm around Lenore’s shoulder and gave her a little squeeze. “I’m sorry if I snapped at you,” she added. “I’m just a nervous wreck.”

“Of course you are, darling.” Lenore forgave her granddaughter in an instant. How could she hold a grudge against the girl—so brilliant, so beautiful, so filled with energy, purpose, and drive? And it was her wedding day; she was entitled to her wedding-day jitters. “You’re getting married today, and getting married is a very big deal.” She inhaled that scent again, the one she had noticed yesterday. She would ask Angelica what it was and where she could get a bottle. Only she would not ask right now.

Betsy and Angelica left the room, in search of the two maids, whose names Lenore could not remember, Ohad, and Justine. Lenore supposed she ought to stay, though she really did want to have a little chat with Caleb if she could find him. He had been out by the pool earlier, but she had not seen him since. Now, that was odd, because he usually sought her out at family gatherings. She sank down on a slipper chair covered in a tasteful paisley but realized she was not inclined to sit still—
schpilkes
, as her own mother would have said.
Ants in the pants.