A Nantucket Wedding(18)

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In the early evening, they all piled into Alison’s Jeep and headed out to Madaket. Felicity rode in the passenger seat, with Jane and Ethan in the backseat. Alison kept checking on them in her rearview mirror. Stop it, Alison told herself. They’re adults.

She focused on her younger daughter. “Felicity,” Alison said, “I want to know all about my grandchildren. How are they? Details, please.”

Felicity brightened. “Well, Alice is, as you know, finishing first grade. She’s an excellent student and she has lots of friends, and at home she’s intolerably bossy!”

Alison laughed. “First children often are.”

“I can hear you!” Jane reminded them.

“And as for Luke! He likes running and yelling at the top of his voice.” Felicity reached into her shoulder bag. “Here. I’ve got new photos on my phone. I took them before I came.”

“I’ll look at them when we’re settled on the beach,” Alison said. She steered the Jeep off the main road onto a narrow lane blocked by a railing and a gigantic sand dune. “Girls, Ethan, here we are!”

Alison parked the Jeep at the end of the road. “Everybody has to carry something,” she said, clicking the hatch door open. “I’ll take two beach chairs. Ethan, can you get the others?”

    “Got them.”

“I’ll take the coolers,” Jane said, reaching in for two blue and white plastic containers.

“Um, I’ll take the picnic basket,” Felicity said unhappily, because she was stuck with the most cumbersome object.

“It’s too heavy for you to carry alone,” Ethan told her. He tucked the beach chairs under his arm. “I’ll take this end.”

It was a real hike to get to the top, but once they were there, they looked down to see Madaket Beach spread out before them in butterscotch perfection, and waves coming all the way from Europe to spill lazily onto the sand.

“Gosh.” Felicity sighed. “This is amazing.”

“It is,” Alison agreed. “Now you know why I wanted to bring you girls out here. Most people go to the Jetties Beach or Surfside, but I think this is my favorite.”

Laughing, they half-walked, half-slid down the dune. They chose a spot and set up the beach chairs, one on each corner of the red-and-white-checked cloth Alison took from the hamper. The sun was already slanting down in the sky—it was late, almost seven-thirty.

They sat back in their chairs, their bare feet in the soft sand, watching the waves roll up and sink into the sand. For a few moments, no one spoke.

“It’s hypnotic,” Jane murmured.

“The quiet,” Felicity said. “I love how quiet it is, only the sound of the waves, and no child crying.”

At that moment, a gull flew overhead, screeching. Everyone laughed.

“Ready for wine?” Ethan asked.

“Absolutely,” Jane said.

Alison turned to her daughter. “Felicity, let me see your phone. I want to look at the photos of your children.”

Felicity happily handed it to her. Alison scrolled through the pictures, laughing and exclaiming at her grandchildren’s sweet faces, silly postures.

    “Let me see,” Jane asked.

Ethan took the phone next. “You’ve got really adorable kids,” he told Felicity.

Felicity beamed. “Thanks.”

Alison set out a late evening snack. They were still full from the bread but needed something more. Deviled eggs. Carrots and broccoli. Cheddar cheese and grapes.

“Do you have children, Ethan?” Felicity asked.

Ethan smiled. “I do. A daughter. Canny—she’s named after Cantuta, the Peruvian national flower. It’s supposed to be magic, and we’re experimenting with it on the farm—not in a magic mushroom way. Canny lives with me during the school year and spends the summer months and winter vacation with her mother in Peru.”

“Your wife, ex-wife, her mother, lets her daughter live with you most of the time?” Felicity was stunned.

“It was Canny’s choice. She skypes with her mother almost every evening.” Ethan met Felicity’s shocked gaze calmly. “My ex-wife, Esmeralda, is a lawyer. Her father is a judge in Lima. She’s brilliant and ambitious. When we married, she gave living on my farm a good try, but it’s isolated, in upstate Vermont. She’s a city girl. She speaks five languages, and she’s seriously involved with the politics of her country.”

“How did you meet her?” Jane asked.

“I was traveling through South America. I had a friend in Lima, a guy I’d gone to boarding school with, and I stopped for a few days to see him, and I met Esmeralda at a party. We were married six months later.”

“How romantic,” Alison said. “What was your wedding like?”

“We had two of them. First, in Peru. Esmeralda is Catholic. Then, a second wedding on our farm.” Ethan laughed ruefully. “We had two weddings, one child, and not much of a marriage.”

“Very different weddings?” Jane asked.

“Absolutely. The first was in the Cathedral Basilica of St. John the Apostle and Evangelist. A magnificent cathedral in the heart of downtown Lima. We had several hundred guests, and Esmeralda”—Ethan smiled, remembering—“resembled a walking five-tiered wedding cake as she came down the aisle. Enough lace and glitter for five brides. Then, on the farm, it was the exact opposite. We had a tent in the yard in case of rain, but it didn’t, so we held the ceremony in the orchard when the trees were blooming. We had about forty guests, including various dogs, cats, and ducks. The reception was in the barn.”