A Nantucket Wedding(4)

Today, Alison reminded herself, she had her daughters with her for the weekend in David’s beach house. She wanted to savor each moment.

“MOM!” Felicity burst into the kitchen. “This house!”

Jane followed more quietly. “It’s stunning, Mom.”

“I know,” Alison agreed. “Let’s go out on the deck so you can enjoy the view.”

They sat at the round wooden table on wooden chairs softened by cushions—another David touch, this comfort. Steps led down the deck to the tangled mass of wild beach roses and razor-edged beach grass. A well-trodden sandy path wound through the shrubbery down to the golden beach and the deep blue ocean, today rolling calmly toward shore.

    “This is heaven,” Felicity cooed, resting her feet on another chair and pulling her skirt up to her hips to allow the sun to tan her legs. “Are you so thrilled, Mom?”

“I’m thrilled to be with David. The beach house is wonderful, but it’s David who makes me happy.”

Felicity eyed Jane. “You look fabulous, Jane. How are you?”

“I’m good. Scott’s good. And you look great, too, Filly.”

“I do?” Felicity glowed at her sister’s compliment. “I don’t feel like I look great. I’m so exhausted from the children, I never get enough sleep, I haven’t lost my baby weight, and my breasts are all saggy from nursing.”

Alison laughed. “Oh, darling! You look beautiful.”

“So, Mom,” Jane said, “when do we get to hear about your plans for the wedding?”

“After dinner. I’ve got quite a special show organized.” She wanted her daughters to have some time alone together to talk, so she said, “But first, I need to go buy a few groceries. I thought you two might like to take a long walk on the beach.”

Jane looked at her watch. “Sure, yes, if we have time.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world. David is in Boston, so it’s just the three of us, and I’ve already made an enormous salad and I thought I’d grill some salmon—”

“Oh, Mom? Um…” Felicity blushed. “Instead of salmon, could we have, maybe, steak?”

“But, Filly,” Jane said, “you’re a vegetarian!”

Felicity was bright red. “Actually, it’s Noah who’s the vegetarian. He doesn’t want me to cook beef or pork or lamb in our kitchen. And of course, he’s absolutely right, we do need to think of the animals. But sometimes…”

“I’ll go to Annye’s,” Alison suggested. “Their meat is from cattle that drink champagne while they lie there listening to the Pachelbel’s Canon. They never know a thing.”

“Oh, Mom! You act as if I’m demented! And I’m not,” Felicity protested. “It’s just that—only for the time I’m here—I’d really enjoy eating some meat.”

    Alison kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Good. I’m off. You girls have a walk on the beach.” She rose, biting back a laugh. “And I’ll pick up some bacon for breakfast tomorrow.”





two


After Alison left, an awkward silence fell between Jane and Felicity. Jane looked at her watch. “I suppose it’s too early for a drink.”

“It absolutely is! We’re going for that walk on the beach first. And I want to hear all about you and Scott and the glamorous life you’re leading, and you can hear all about my children.” Felicity pushed her chair away from the table and stood. She held out her hand. “Come on, Sis, let’s get our feet in the sand.”

They went, single file, down the wooden steps to the yard and along the path between the wild, fragrant beach roses. Jane had changed into flip-flops, which she kicked off and positioned next to Felicity’s Birkenstocks, and together they stepped onto the cool sand. The ocean was lazy today, rolling up to the beach with a sigh.

“What a spectacular view,” Jane said.

    “Lucky Mom,” Felicity replied, immediately adding, “and David’s lucky, too, to be loved by her.”

Jane tilted her head and scrutinized her sister. “Am I crazy or do you look sad?” Immediately, she worried that she’d been intrusive. She couldn’t remember one single time when she and Felicity had talked intimately. As they grew up, Jane had called Felicity a lightweight, and Felicity had called Jane a drudge. Jane knew that underneath her disdain for Felicity’s silliness bubbled a thick layer of jealousy. Felicity was so pretty. The world was so easy for her! She didn’t make the grades Jane did, but lucky Filly, she didn’t care about grades. Now, after over a decade of living apart, she and Felicity hadn’t kept in touch. They saw each other at Christmas or Thanksgiving or when they got together for their mother’s birthday. Recently they’d begun to text about their mother’s wedding and this visit to Nantucket. But maybe Jane had gone too close too fast. Jane began, “I don’t mean—”

“No, it’s fine. I’d like to talk. I need to talk. I don’t think I’m sad, exactly,” Felicity said. “Maybe only tired. Come on, let’s walk.” For years Felicity had considered Jane a coldhearted intellectual snob, but she had always valued Jane’s advice. Jane was so much more shrewd and judicious than Felicity.