A Nantucket Wedding(64)

Noah looked uncomfortable. “I’ve never been in a kayak.”

“It’s as easy as sitting in a chair,” David said. “And they insist we wear life jackets, so you don’t have to worry about drowning.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” Noah grumbled.

Felicity held her breath. Was her husband going to be rude to his future stepfather-in-law?

“Let’s go, then.” David pushed back his chair and rose. “We’ll be home around five,” he told Alison, and gave her a quick kiss.

    Noah followed David from the kitchen, not bothering to speak to Felicity.

The front door shut. Two car doors slammed. David’s Jeep roared off.

“Well, girls, what shall we do now?” Alison asked with a smile.

Jane looked at her mother. “Felicity thinks Noah’s having an affair.”

Felicity said, “And Jane wants to go to bed with Ethan.”



* * *



—

Later in the afternoon, Alison told her daughters she was tired and needed a nap.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Jane asked, slightly alarmed.

“I’m fine, sweetie. Just old.”

“You’re not old, Mom!” Felicity protested.

“If you want to take the kids into town, my car keys are on that hook,” Alison said. She kissed the top of both daughters’ heads and left the room. She climbed the stairs and entered the master bedroom and locked the door behind her. She didn’t want to rest on the chaise longue by the window—the day was too bright, and she was not in the mood to enjoy the scene.

She curled up on her bed, facing the wall, pulling an old soft quilt made by her grandmother up over her. The room was air-conditioned, and she needed the sense of comfort the quilt gave her.

She was deeply disturbed by what her daughters had shared with her. She’d sat in the kitchen, listening as Felicity talked about Noah’s relationship with his personal assistant and Jane spoke of her desire for children and Scott’s adamant refusal to consider it. The old instinctive need to protect her daughters rose within her, a tide as natural and unavoidable as the surf swelling up on the ocean. These men! These ridiculous, blockheaded men, who had vowed to love her daughters and were now making them miserable. But what could Alison do? They were grown men; they couldn’t be scolded or cajoled or even bribed into changing. Oh, why in the world did people get married?

    She rolled over to her other side, and as if her thoughts were small wooden blocks, another thought clicked into place. Of course she couldn’t do anything about all this. Her daughters were grown, too. They were healthy, intelligent, capable women, and really, weren’t they being a bit…insensitive?…to dump all this on Alison just a few weeks before her wedding? They were, after all, relatively young. Alison was fifty-five. She had done her duty to the girls. She had kept them well fed and safe and loved for the first twenty years of their lives, and she had worked part-time to make special trips and clothes possible. Would this never end? Would they stand at Alison’s deathbed as she gasped for her last breath, tattling on each other and complaining about their problems?

Okay, Alison told herself, she was overwrought. After all, Felicity and Jane hadn’t asked for advice from Alison, they had simply shared their lives with her. How many women did Alison know who didn’t have that close connection with their children, who saw their children only at Christmas and had no clue what problems and joys they had?

But, to put the cherry on top of the dysfunctional sundae, Poppy was making a mess of her work for David’s company.

How foolish she’d been, thinking that David’s assistant would take care of all the arrangements for their wedding party. Alison wished she could send Heather a memo telling her to deal with Noah and Scott.



* * *



—

At some point, Alison must have fallen into a light doze, because it was after four when she opened her eyes. Yawning, she stretched, feeling wonderfully rested. She refreshed herself in the bathroom, brushing her hair, adding a touch of lipstick, and then she opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall.

“Well, I think you’re disgusting!” It was Poppy, hissing.

A man laughed. Alison’s mind sorted quickly and informed her: Ethan. Poppy and Ethan were downstairs in the front hall, arguing.

    “Poppy, come on. Don’t be such a puritan. I’ve always flirted with women. You know that. It’s one of my hobbies.”

“I’m a puritan? You’re a slut.”

Ethan sighed and his voice was exasperated. “Give me a break. You’re just hormonal these days. You’re not seeing things clearly.”

“I’m seeing that you’re not divorced like you’re telling Jane and Felicity you are.”

“So? I’m separated. Moving toward divorce.”

“Yes, and how many years have you been separated?”

“We live in different countries. We’re both working,” Ethan said.

“Well, I’m going to tell Dad,” Poppy informed Ethan.

“That’s ridiculous. What are you, five years old? What’s Dad going to do, ground me? Besides, he’s got enough on his plate now, with you taking over the company.”