Winter Solstice (Winter #4)(49)
Margaret says, “Will your father be watching, do you think?”
“He wouldn’t miss it,” Ava says. “You know that.” Mitzi might space that it’s Margaret’s last broadcast—or to her it might fall into the category of inconsequential—but Kevin and Isabelle will be there to remind her.
Ava gets choked up from the instant Margaret signs off. There’s a compilation of Margaret’s most memorable moments over the years.
Margaret in a biker jacket, T-shirt, and jeans doing a 60 Minutes segment on Sturgis.
Margaret in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina, her hair plastered to her head from the rain.
Margaret surrounded by American servicemen in Fallujah.
Margaret in Paris after the shooting at Charlie Hebdo, in Rome when Pope Francis was elected, in London after the subway bombing, in Washington during Obama’s first inauguration.
Margaret with tears streaming down her face as she embraces one of the mothers of the Sandy Hook Elementary victims.
Margaret with Melania Trump at Mar-a-Lago, years before Melania was the First Lady.
Margaret with Queen Elizabeth, the Dalai Lama, George Clooney, Beyoncé, Hillary Clinton, Muhammad Ali, Ralph Lauren, Jennifer Aniston, Bruce Springsteen, LeBron James, Stephen King.
Margaret at Ground Zero, standing in front of the wreckage of One World Trade Center, holding an American flag, wearing an I Love NY T-shirt over her dress.
There is champagne in the greenroom once Margaret is finished, and the mood is joyous. Margaret herself seems ecstatic.
She says, “I may just let myself get drunk tonight.”
Ava drinks three glasses of Dom Pérignon on an empty stomach, after which she feels very light-headed. Drake instructs everyone to take taxis down to Upland, which is on Park Avenue South. They have a private room, he says.
The network has surprised Margaret with a white stretch limousine. Raoul, Margaret’s driver, is also enjoying his first day of retirement, and so there’s another chauffeur and plenty of room in the limo for Margaret and Drake, Ava and Potter, and Bart and Allegra.
When Margaret sees the limo, she balks for an instant. Then she grins. “You know who I never got to interview? Liberace.”
There’s more champagne in the limo. Ava accepts a glass from Drake—it’s Cristal—and Allegra says, “I feel like I’m in a rap video.”
“You know who else I never interviewed?” Margaret says. “Snoop Dogg. Of course, he belongs to Martha now.”
The party atmosphere continues at the restaurant, Upland, one of Drake’s new finds. There are jars and jars filled with Meyer lemons suspended in liquid, and Ava becomes mesmerized by all those lemons—fifteen or twenty lemons per jar, and shelves and shelves of jars, two whole walls of shelves. Thousands of lemons sacrificed themselves for the decor of this restaurant, Ava thinks, and she may have said this out loud, because Potter says, “We’d better get you something to eat.”
In the private room there are high-top tables, a full bar, and long tables of food: kale Caesar, artisan pizzas, platters of pasta with exotic sauces.
“I’ll have more champagne,” Ava says.
People make toasts: Lee Kramer from CBS; Darcy, Margaret’s former assistant; and Drake. Ava can’t remember what anyone says, but she cries quietly through each toast. Her mother is such a phenomenal person. She has achieved so much. She is an idol, an inspiration, a national treasure.
Ava is too drunk to make a toast. She will come across as a weepy, sentimental mess.
But then Ava gets an idea. She speaks to the bartender, who calls in one of the restaurant’s managers, and Ava makes her request. Turns out, they can accommodate her halfway. They have a cordless microphone and a small amp, but no piano. As they set up the microphone, Ava double-checks the lyrics on her phone.
Potter sweeps Ava’s hair aside and kisses her neck. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, nothing,” Ava says. She chimes a spoon against a glass, and the room draws silent. Ava is a little nervous about singing without accompaniment, but then she reminds herself that, just as being the most intelligent, gracious, poised, and articulate woman on the planet is Margaret’s gift, music is Ava’s gift. She can sing drunk or sober, with a piano or without.
This song has long been one of Margaret’s favorites, even when it wasn’t popular to admit it.
Ava doesn’t bother with an introduction; she simply starts singing, her voice pure and true.
“Thanks for the times that you’ve given me,
The memories are all in my mind.”
It’s the Commodores, “Three Times a Lady,” and by the time Ava finishes, everyone in the room is either singing along or crying. Some are doing both. Even the bartender.
When Ava and Potter finally leave the party—it is well past one in the morning—Margaret hugs them each good-bye.
To Ava she says, “Sweetheart, that was a beautiful tribute. I didn’t deserve it, but I will never pass up the chance to hear you sing.”
To Potter she says, “I hope we see you next weekend, but if not, we’ll see you on Nantucket at Thanksgiving.”
Ava opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.
When she and Potter climb into the back of the taxi, Ava says, “I have something to tell you about.” She is so drunk she has no idea if this sentence makes any sense. She should wait and tell Potter tomorrow. But she’s too drunk to keep her mouth shut. She has leaped off the proverbial cliff; there’s no way to unleap.