A Nantucket Wedding(9)

“Lovely, darling,” Alison said.

Jane said nothing, but at least she didn’t roll her eyes or snort.

For a while, they all focused on the meal, so aromatic, so succulent, so satisfying. They served the salad last.

    “So,” Jane said, “want to talk about your wedding, Mom?”

“Good idea,” Felicity said. “What’s your vision?”

“My vision…” Alison’s mouth trembled with suppressed laughter.

“Start with your dress,” Felicity prompted.

“Let her tell it her own way,” Jane said to her sister.

Alison was smug. “Actually, girls, David and I don’t have a vision, but we do have some plans. Let me explain. David married Emma in a big church wedding. I never had that, not with either of your fathers. You know I was pregnant when I married Flint, so it was a rather sober event in front of our parents with a justice of the peace. And then, when I married Mark—” She put her hand to her throat, as if to ease it. “Well, we got married quietly then, too. We just went to the clerk of the court. We paid strangers to be our witnesses, they have people waiting for that purpose.” She cast an apologetic look at Jane. “We didn’t want to make a big deal of it because—”

“Because you had an affair with Mark and left my father.” Jane’s words were clipped.

Alison held back a sigh. She’d been over this many times before with Jane and Felicity, and she wasn’t going to take them all down this prickly memory lane again.

“SO!” Alison clapped her hands like a delighted child. “I told David I want our wedding to be fabulous.”

Alison watched her daughters exchange surprised looks. She knew exactly what they were thinking: Mom, fabulous? Alison was attractive, but she was more maternal than remarkable. She was generous and reliable and loving and sweet.

“I mean a fabulous party,” Alison amended. “A sort of celebration of life and love with our families and our friends.”

“Please don’t tell me we’re all going to stand in a circle holding hands and singing ‘Kumbaya.’ ” Jane groaned.

Alison laughed. “Don’t worry. David isn’t a ‘Kumbaya’ kind of man.” Alison stood up and stretched. “Let’s go in and get comfy on the sofa. David had the computer synced to the TV in the den and we can check out the dresses and see what you like.”

    “Well, you know, Mom,” Jane said, taking the bottle and her glass and following her mother, “I’m not sure you can manage fabulous when your wedding is in September. These events take lots of preparation and research and time—”

Alison settled on the cozy sofa in the den. “It’s all right, Janey. It’s all set.”

Both daughters collapsed next to her as if Alison had hit them behind the knees.

“What?” they cried.

“David and I have been seeing each other for almost a year, and during that time, I’ve gotten to know his friends and he’s come to know mine. We’re all…I guess mature would be the right word. We’ve been through a lot. We’ve been married before. So we thought this time we would have a wedding that is really a spectacular party. But neither David nor I have the skills it takes to organize a party—”

Felicity piped up. “We could help you with that!”

“That’s sweet of you, honey, but his assistant, Heather, has it all under control.”

“ ‘His assistant, Heather’?” Felicity echoed.

“Cool,” Jane said. “Tell us more.”

Alison smiled. “Outside of town, off on a quiet road, there’s the poshest hotel on the island. The Wauwinet. It fronts a gorgeous beach and the end of Nantucket harbor, so it’s very private.”

As she talked, Alison picked up the remote control and a video of the venue drifted across the wide screen. “They’ve got an amazing restaurant, Topper’s, and if any guests want to take a drive around the island, they’ve got BMWs we can use, and kayaks and a gorgeous boat to take us on a tour of the island. So David and I made up our guest list, and he’s taken the hotel for the second weekend in September. The weather will still be won—”

Felicity frowned. “What exactly do you mean, ‘he’s taken the hotel for the weekend’?”

“Well, sweetie, I think it’s pretty clear. He’s reserved all the rooms and the restaurant and hotel property for the weekend. Friday through Sunday nights.”

    Felicity looked wide-eyed at her sister. “Jane, David must be rich.”

Jane said, “He is. I know.”

“How do you know?” Felicity looked suspiciously at her mother and Jane, as if they’d been keeping a secret from her.

“I googled him,” Jane said.

“Smart.” Felicity brightened.

“I know.” Jane straightened. This was her element. “David Gladstone’s parents came from England when David was a boy. They built a successful business from making and packaging British-named soaps and lotions: English Garden Creams. They supply the most elite hotels and department stores with face, hand, and body lotions and anti-aging creams and lip balms, all beautifully packaged. David Gladstone, I’m sorry to say, is not a billionaire. But he is a millionaire several times over. He has substantial holdings in real estate all over the country. He pays his taxes on time. He is widowed and has two grown children, Ethan and Poppy. Poppy is married and has two children. Both Poppy and her husband, Patrick, work in the corporate offices in Boston. Ethan is divorced, with a nine-year-old daughter. He lives on a large property in central Vermont where he manages a staff who keep horses and hens, hold summer camps for city kids, and grows, among other things, flowers to be used in researching new products for English Garden Creams.”