The Loose Ends List(66)

“Will you keep in touch with Grace, Maddie? Will you tell her all about this”—she flings her hand toward the gathering crowd—“when she’s old enough? Not the part about me being drunk.”

“Of course. How about I take Grace shopping at Saks for her eighteenth birthday? I’ll take her to the lunch counter and tell her about the Wishwell and her amazing mommy.”

“Saks. Fancy. I like it.” She puts her finger up to my lips. “Just don’t tell her about the shots.”

“I won’t tell her about the shots,” I say, as she runs over to tackle Lane.

Gollum comes toward me in a three-piece suit. He’s combed his hair and slicked it back for the party. It might be the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen.

“Happy birthday, Maddie. Thank you for inviting me.” He shakes my hand. His fingers are like ice.

“Thank you, Heinz. Thank you for coming.”

Awkward silence.

“Will you save me a dance later?” Why did I say that?

“That is kind of you, but I must decline. I’m not a very good dancer.”

“Okay. No problem.”

“Well, enjoy your party, Maddie. Happy birthday.”

I don’t say anything as he walks away. What do I say to a lonely old man who doesn’t even know how to dance?

An über-cute baby in a purple party frock comes toward me in a stroller, flapping her arms frantically.

“Kiss Aunt Maddie, Gracie.” Wes glows with daddy hormones. I lean over, and Grace holds her slimy mouth on my cheek. She hasn’t figured out how to pucker, but she makes a muh sound.

“When are you going to tell everybody about the baby?” I say, grabbing Grace’s bare feet and kissing her tiny toes. “Why are you keeping it a secret? It’s the best news we’ve had, maybe ever.”

“Billy doesn’t want to tell until we’re sure. It’s like when a woman is pregnant. She waits until she’s past the typical miscarriage stage. There’s so much heartbreak in the adoption world.”

“But you’re slacking, Wes. I haven’t had a status update since Italy.”

“You’ve been shagging all day and night.”

“Hey. Not cool.”

“We are getting a baby girl,” he says. “She’s due in early September. We’re going to have a baby, Gracie.” Wes unbuckles Grace and picks her up. She grabs a big clump of his hair.

“So tell everyone before I explode. I’m a teenage girl—it’s against my nature to keep juicy secrets.”

“Soon. Very soon. Go have fun. Gracie needs to go night, night.”

“How is it that Uncle Billy was the one pushing for the kid when you’re so good with them?”

“I’ve always loved kids.” He coaxes Grace back into the stroller. “I just didn’t love being a kid. It wasn’t easy growing up gay in cow country forty years ago. I don’t want to screw things up for some other kid.”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re Uncle Babysitter.” Wes smiles wide before walking away behind Grace, who has decided she wants to push the stroller.

Enzo comes around the corner in khaki shorts, a faded T-shirt, and a red baseball cap.

“Hey, birthday girl. I like the crown. You’re making me want to take you back to the cabin.” He grabs my waist and pulls me toward him.

“Stop talking in that British accent. It’s too distracting,” I whisper in his ear.

“Burt and I got Mark so bombed he’s giggling uncontrollably,” Enzo says. Paige runs over, rips the tiara off my head, and puts it on top of Burt’s cowboy hat.

“I’m glad this has degenerated into a frat party.”

“Mum’s here. Time to sing.” He escorts me up to the Grotto.

Francesca kisses my cheeks and picks up the microphone. “Attention, everyone. May I have your attention?” After five minutes of trying to shut up the crowd, Bob Johns blows his trumpet into the mic. People cover their ears. Burt throws a beach ball at Bob.

“I’m going to play a little something for our Maddie girl.” Bob’s voice sounds even deeper over the mike. “Happy birthday to a lovely young lady.”

Bob does a bluesy trumpet version of “Happy Birthday” and the entire Wishwell crowd serenades me. I scan the deck for Gram. She blows me a kiss, rests her hand on her heart, and mouths, I love you.

I love you too, I mouth back.

Ty’s intern friend DJ Steve plays a reggae birthday song, and the dancing erupts like an Icelandic volcano. It’s a whirling mass of stomping feet and shaking hips and spinning wheelchairs.

If only I could wrap up this moment and tie it with a pretty ribbon, I would give it to baby Grace someday.



It’s five AM, and Janie has puked and rallied so many times that I think she’s finally sober. Only the strong have survived to settle into the Grotto with ganja and cold macaroni and cheese balls. My thighs are in spasm from all the dancing, and the hot water feels incredible.

“Oh my God, I am messed up.” Lane slides in next to Paige and takes a long hit from Jeb’s joint. “Macaroni and cheese in a fried ball. Genius.”

Burt grabs the mic from Wes, the one-man karaoke act. “Mark wants to go skinny-dipping. Let’s do this. Yeah!”