A Nantucket Wedding(34)

“Right.” David nodded. “You’re right.”

“And if we wait until after Poppy has her baby…well, the Wauwinet closes in the winter. We’re looking at next spring.”

“You’ve got a point,” David admitted, and he didn’t look happy when he said it.

“I’m exhausted,” Alison said. And I’d like to punch a hole in the wall, she thought, but smothered her anger. “Let’s talk to the girls this week. We’ll get it settled.”

“Sure.” David turned off his bedside lamp and slid down onto his pillow.

Alison did the same. And she was the one to lean over and kiss David good night. And then they both turned on their sides, lying back-to-back, staring at the dark.




From: Alison

To: Jane and Felicity

Subject: Wedding frocks

David said Poppy’s worried about wearing a knee-length dress at our wedding because she has terrible varicose veins from her pregnancy. Says that by September, the veins will look like worms crawling up her legs. She would like to wear a long gown and she wants us all to wear long gowns so she isn’t the odd man (woman) out.

Advice? We all want this to be a happy family event.

Love, Mom





From: Felicity

To: Jane and Mom

Subject: Worms

I know how she feels. I don’t get varicose veins, but toward the end of my pregnancies, my hair got thin and oily and I got blotches on my face that went away after the baby was born. Does she get blotches on her face?

I’m thinking about possible alternatives to short/long gowns.

xo Felicity





From: Jane

To: Mom and Felicity

Subject: Really?

Mom. This is your wedding. Poppy can’t dictate what you or we wear. We have already chosen our dresses. She is David’s attendant, not yours. I thought she was a smart executive for David’s firm. She sounds like a little girl trying to get her own way.

xoJ





From: Alison

To: Jane and Felicity

Subject: Wedding

You both know I’m not as technologically advanced as you are, but I worry TERRIBLY about anyone else ever accidentally seeing these emails and I would be extremely grateful if we could discuss this issue without calling names or casting aspersions.

Love, Mom





* * *



—

    Jane and Scott had agreed to meet at Amarela for dinner. Jane knew they weren’t going for the excellent food and heady Brazilian drinks made with cachaça. They both wanted to talk and they knew they would behave more calmly out in public, but if they raised their voices, no one in the restaurant would notice, even if Jane stood up and socked Scott in the nose.

Not that she would.

But she kind of wanted to. Once again, when she returned from Nantucket, Scott had been obsessed with work, and grumpy because of it. She’d seen him through these intense work periods before, and he’d lived with her when she went through them, when sometimes a case got so sticky and complicated and huge and full of details that her head felt it would explode if she had to recall one more minor point. It was like cramming for exams. Afterward, Jane or Scott would collapse with relief, sleep for ten hours and eat the most delicious—and artery-clogging—food they could find. Their sense of humor would return. And their sensuality.

Scott was in one of those phases now, and she knew not to press him. On the other hand, she’d heard tales of woe from career-oriented friends who had trouble getting pregnant, and she worried about that. She was thirty-two and wanted as much time as possible to try.

She got to the restaurant before he did and was shown to a wonderful quiet table in the side room. She studied her phone—it was amusing, how all the people alone at the other tables were looking at their phones—and caught her mother’s latest email about the great gown debate.

“Hi, babe.” Scott came to their table and leaned to kiss her cheek before sitting down.

“Hi,” Jane said, smiling. She was completely aware of how women’s heads turned to watch him stride through the room, this tall, slender, dark-haired handsome man in a pinstripe suit.

Scott sat across from her. “Have you ordered our drinks?”

    “Not yet. I was waiting for you.”

Scott waved the waiter over and ordered their drinks. “You’re looking really beautiful tonight, honey. I think those days on the island did you good.”

Her breath caught with surprise. He was giving her an opening into the whole summer-event discussion.

“Thanks! I got a tan. And honestly, it’s so relaxing, walking on the beach, listening to the waves crash, feeling the sun on my shoulders.”

Scott leaned back in his chair and studied Jane. “How’s work going?”

Jane shrugged. “It’s good. It’s fine. Same old, same old, reading codes and small print until my eyes cross.”

“Are you bored with it all?”

Jane took a moment to enjoy her drink. Scott might be overwhelmed with legal matters, but he was here with her now, and as relaxed as he’d been in a long time.

“Not bored at all,” she told him. “It’s routine, and you know how I like routine.”