Last to Know: A Novel(34)

Rose said, “Thank you, thank all of you, no doubt I’ll be needing you in the kitchen later. Time to get changed now.” She remembered the Target bags and wondered if Bea had anything to change into. Looking at her uncertain face, she guessed she did not.

Catching on, Madison said quickly, “Don’t worry, we’ll lend you something, it’s not that fancy anyway, just locals, but parents do like to see us in dresses occasionally. Don’t know why, it’s just the way parents are.” Then, remembering about Bea’s mother, she shut her mouth quickly and said, “Oh, sorry, Bea. Come on then, let’s hurry.”

Rose took one last look at her table. A couple of leaves fluttered down onto her white cloth and she glanced up at the fig tree, frowning. Could the wind be getting up? Please God don’t let there be a storm coming. But the evening sky was clear. All she had to do now was quickly shower and change into the loose blue and white caftan that felt like gossamer against her skin and hid, she hoped, smiling ruefully, a multitude of sins.





23


Diz crawled back along his branch and was back in his room when Rose knocked, then stuck her head in the door.

“Shower, Diz Osborne. Clean pair of shorts, a polo shirt—there’s clean ones in your closet, and don’t forget the shoes.”

“Sneakers,” Dix muttered unwillingly.

“Just no flip-flops,” Rose said, closing the door and striding off to her own room, already pulling her shirt over her head. Time was of the essence. She still had the melon to cut, as well as the filet mignon for the stroganoff. She would get the girls to arrange the prosciutto on the plates. Oh, and she mustn’t forget the bowls of almonds for the drinks, as well as the special pigs-in-blankets Madison had made. Funny how old-fashioned bits of sausage wrapped in pastry were the most popular item at any drinks party. Men adored them, memories of their childhood, she supposed.

She could hear the girls down the hall talking to Bea, exclaiming how lovely she looked in something they had dressed her in; heard her eldest son’s shower go on; God if she didn’t hurry there’d be no hot water left, it was always a bit short here at the lake with the small boiler.

Five minutes later she was in the blue and white caftan, sitting at her vanity, brushing her unruly dammit hair and deciding simply to tie it back; powdering her sunburned nose—she should use more sunscreen—a flick of pink lip gloss—Dolce & Gabbana’s Beauty—and a spritz of Tom Ford’s Neroli Portofino, a little exotic for a woman as down-to-earth as herself but it was a Christmas present from the children.

Oh, God, she wailed inwardly, where is Wally … oh God, please let him show up … let everything be all right …

“Mom!” Diz had stuck his head out in the hallway and was yelling for her. “I can’t find my sneakers.”

“On the kitchen table,” Rose answered automatically; her children always believed she knew where everything was, and mostly she did, except where her husband was.

But a few minutes later, down in her kitchen again, she could not find the knife she needed to cut the melon. It was her favorite old Wüsthof, she used it for almost everything from melon to filet mignon.

“Frazer, where is it?” she demanded as the twin appeared, looking cute in a little white skirt and a red off-the-shoulder jersey top.

“Where is what?”

“My good knife, the German one I always use for cutting.”

“That’s what a knife is for.” Frazer waltzed over to the corner where the knife holder was and took out another. “Here, Mom, use this. It’ll all be the same in the end.”

Grumbling, Rose began to slice the beef and the onions while Madison went to set up the music. “Leonard Cohen, a bit much?” she called to her mother.

Rose groaned. “Something happy, please,” she said; though she loved Leonard Cohen it wasn’t exactly upbeat cocktail hour background music.

Frazer put on Neil Young, who was singing quietly about pretty much the same things Leonard was, then set up background stuff for the rest of the evening.

Roman came down. Rose had not seen him all day. He’d been at his books. But Roman had always been remote, even as a child; now he was still in his own world, up there in his room under the eaves. Half the time Rose didn’t even know if he was there. And maybe sometimes he was not, and sneaking out, doing what kids his age did, party and look at girls. But Roman wanted to be a doctor and was starting premed in a few weeks’ time. Rose knew she was going to lose him too; everyone said once your child left for college, that was the end of life as you knew it. You were on your own from then on.

“Handsome devil,” she said, eyeing him. “Better watch out for those girls tonight, I invited two especially for you, nieces of the Elliots, they’re staying for a few days.”

Roman groaned. Diz came in and stood next to him. He spread his arms and did a twirl. “So?” he asked, looking at his mom.

Rose laughed; he really was cute with his sandy hair still wet and combed flat to his head, and his ears sticking out. He looked like an alien from Dr. Who. “You’ll do,” she told him with a wink.

And then suddenly Wally was there, rounding the corner of the terrace pushing a wheelbarrow filled with ice. He waved at them. “For the champagne,” he called. “I’ll leave it out here, then I’ll go and get the wine.”