A Nantucket Wedding(74)

    It broke Felicity’s heart to hear Jane crying. “Oh, Jane. Oh, honey. Those bargains with God don’t always work, you know. I mean—I don’t know what I mean. Just go slowly, right? One step at a time. Don’t confuse everything. Scott didn’t fall because you want children. Maybe Scott didn’t even fall. Just take that train to Bangor—isn’t there a Bangor, Maine?”

“There is. It must have been settled by the Welsh.”

“Okay, well, go to Bangor, Wales, and talk to that nice mountain rescue man—golly, Jane, just think! If they sent a helicopter to rescue Scott, you might meet Prince William!”

Jane’s cries changed into a kind of choking laughter. “Felicity, only you would transform a possibility of death into an opportunity to meet Prince William.”

Felicity smiled to herself. Her silliness had broken the flow of Jane’s fear. Only for a moment, maybe, but that was better than nothing.

“I wish we lived closer,” Felicity said.

“Well, so do I. But first, I need Scott to be alive.”

“Do you want me to call Mom?”

“I’ll call her now.”

“Okay. Please, let me know—day or night. I’ll come if you need me.”

“I love you, Felicity!”

“I love you, Jane!”

“Thanks, Felicity. I’ll call.”



* * *



—

Felicity sat on the sofa with her phone in her hand and stared at the coffee table. Yesterday she’d picked some dahlias from her garden and put them in a vase on the table. They were so colorful, red, orange, yellow. Closing her eyes, she said a prayer for Scott’s safety. You never know what will happen next, she thought, and the thought propelled her out of the living room and into the kitchen. She looked out the window and saw both children playing in the sprinkler. Felicity didn’t have a swimming pool like Ingrid’s, but she did have two beautiful children who were running and shrieking with glee through the curtain of rainbowed drops.

    She checked the time on the clock on the stove. Crystal, the favorite babysitter, would be here any moment. Felicity wouldn’t be gone more than an hour. She had talked with Kat, the head of the Small Steps Preschool, and was going for an interview with her at five-fifteen. The beginning wage was fifteen dollars an hour. If Felicity worked forty hours a week, she would make six hundred dollars a week or twenty-four hundred dollars a month. She would be working when her children were in school, and best of all, Small Steps was on the same block as the elementary school. Kat had said it would be a plus in Felicity’s favor that she didn’t need benefits or health care coverage. Noah’s business took care of that.

Felicity wore a light summer dress and sturdy sandals. She’d put her long blond hair in a braid—somehow it seemed that a woman who worked with little children would have a braid. She wore only Burt’s Bees Lip Balm for makeup. She knew from taking care of Alice and Luke when they were small that she seldom had a free moment to even consider what she looked like.

She didn’t have to take the job. She may not even get the job. But this was a summer of changes, and soon she’d have a new element to add to the mix of her frazzled marriage.





twenty-three


David had asked Poppy to meet him and Alison for lunch at the Taj, an elegant, posh hotel across the street from the Boston Public Garden.

“Well, that’s depressing,” Poppy had replied to his invitation. “Are you planning to fire me and you know I won’t make a scene there?”

David had held back a sigh. “I’m not planning to fire you, Poppy. I only want to talk in pleasant surroundings while I have a good meal.”

Alison wore a severely cut blue silk dress, high heels, and pearls. David wore his blazer, which he often did, and which always made Alison want to fling herself at him and have sex. There was something about that blazer…But she restrained herself that day as they were shown to a table. While they were being seated, Poppy arrived, six months pregnant and looking it. David rose to kiss his daughter’s cheek. Alison said hello. They made civil conversation while they ordered their meals and a bottle of wine.

    When the waiter left, Poppy folded her hands on the table. “All right. I’m here.”

“Poppy,” David said, “I spoke with Heather. She told me you don’t want Heather doing the wedding arrangements—”

“Ha!” Poppy’s laugh was an angry bark. “I knew you would do this. I knew that’s why you wanted this meeting. Dad, you are such a total control freak! Of course Heather shouldn’t be making the arrangements! Alison should! Heather has work to do for the company, the company I could run quite well without your interference.”

Alison held back a gasp. Glancing from father to daughter, she saw so many physical similarities. The pale skin, thick blond hair—going gray in David’s case—the wide shoulders and long torsos. They radiated the same tension, clearly holding back strong emotions.

“You’ve conflated several issues just now, Poppy.” David paused to sip his wine. “Shall we discuss the wedding arrangements first, or who’s in charge of the company, or how you intend to cope with being a chief executive officer when you have a new baby?”