A Nantucket Wedding(20)

“May I join you?” Another wife, married to one of the scientists experimenting with green food, sat at the table.

“Of course. I’m Felicity.”

“I’m Cynthia Levine. Goodness, look over there, Ingrid Black is about to climb up her boss’s arm.”

Felicity had felt her mouth tighten as she looked. Ingrid had both hands on Noah’s arm and was standing inappropriately close to his body. “That’s my husband. Noah Wellington.”

“Oops. Foot, meet mouth.” Cynthia had laughed. “I wouldn’t worry. Men like our husbands need to be worshipped.” Her eyes had flicked over Felicity. “Besides, he’s not going to sleep with that when he’s got you.”

Felicity had shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “That makes me feel…uncharitable.”

“Well, honey, don’t think for a moment that woman has any charity in her heart for you. Believe me. I know.”

Another company wife had joined them, and the conversation had changed to Christmas talk.

    During the drive home, Felicity had said lightly, because Noah was in a relaxed, post-party mood, “I think Ingrid Black was coming on to you.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Noah had snapped. “Everyone comes on to me, I’m the boss.”

“And you are,” Felicity had said, softening her tone, “awfully handsome.”

He hadn’t replied.

Now her daughter’s voice brought her back to the present.

“Daddy said he couldn’t watch us and cook at the same time, so he invited Ingrid,” Alice explained sensibly. “She’s so nice, Mommy. She brought over Frozen! All right, Luke, jeez, don’t grab!”

“Hi, Mommy. I am Luke.”

“Yes, you are, sweetheart, and I love hearing your voice. What are you doing right now?”

Silence. Finally, “Mommy when are you coming home?”

“I’ll be home today, Lukey.”

“Mommy, Ingrid had food.”

“What kind of food, sweetie?”

“FOOD!” Luke yelled, as if his mother had gone deaf.

“Macaroni and cheese,” Alice prompted from the background. “And asparagus—”

“I hate aspagurus!” Luke screamed, before dropping the phone with a thud.

Felicity could envision it, their house phone usually cradled in the kitchen, now lying on the family room floor with the television blasting in the background.

“Luke?” she called. “Luke! Luke, I need to talk to your father!”

After a short wait, she heard rustling noises and Alice said, “Daddy says he can’t come to the phone now.”

“Can you ask Daddy to call me later? Can you remember that?”

Another thud. The line went dead.

Felicity put down her phone and sat very still, as if any movement would cause more chaos in her heart. Clearly the children didn’t miss her. That was a good thing, even if they were watching the evil television instead of doing creative crafts.

    But the problem was: Why was Ingrid over at the house last night? Noah could cook. He was an excellent cook, slow but thorough. He probably had been too overwhelmed with work…but had Ingrid dropped off the food and the video, or, what was it Luke said, Ingrid came over last night to bring us dinner and watch a movie.

And Alice had said, She’s so nice.

Was Ingrid nice?

Noah hadn’t come to the phone to speak to her now. He must have heard the children talking about Ingrid. Was he afraid Felicity would ask him about her?

What should she do now? Should she call him back and demand to speak to him? Was she making something out of nothing?

“Filly?” Alison came into the bedroom. “Are you ready to go?”

“Um, sure.” Felicity forced herself to smile. “Totally.” She carried her backpack—she couldn’t wear it in a car—and hurried down the stairs.

“I thought we’d have a stroll around town, and then brunch at Cru. I bought you a plane ticket. You leave at one, Felicity.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“And my plane’s at two,” Jane said.

“The kids will be glad to see you,” Alison said to Felicity.

“I know,” Felicity agreed, and she felt warm all over at the thought. Then she realized that she didn’t know if Noah would be glad to see her. She wasn’t sure she’d be glad to see him. She wanted to know why Ingrid had come over last night, but she hated confrontations.

As she listened to Alison chatter, Felicity wondered if her mother had ever had this kind of problem with her marriage. Felicity’s father had been drop-dead handsome, and she wasn’t thinking this because he was her father. It was a fact. Alison had been beautiful, still was beautiful, for an older woman, but had she worried as she grew older and her husband continued his work as a pediatrician? Maybe she should have. After all, Alison had met Mark at his office when she took Jane in for a consultation. Alison had still been married to Jane’s father, Flint. Didn’t Alison worry as the years passed that some new yummy mummy might attract Mark, at least for a fling? After all, Alison grew older, but the mothers bringing in little children must have seemed endlessly young. Did her father ever have an affair?

    Did her mother?