On This Day (19 page)

I
ngrid decides to make a quick run to her room to touch up her face, and I head down to the lobby by myself. I spy my sister near the restaurant door, talking to one of the lodge employees, probably tending to some last-minute detail for the dinner. She looks old and tired. And for the first time it hits me that she really is getting older. She’s only six years older than I am, but it seems to be showing more than ever today. I am also aware that she is about the same age our mother was when she died, and for some reason this concerns me.

I walk over to Jeannette, put my arm around her shoulder, and give her a little sideways squeeze. “Hey, Sis.”

“Oh, Elizabeth,” she says. “It’s good to see you.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Thanks for offering, but I think it’s under control now. They’re
running short on asparagus in the kitchen, and we were just deciding on an alternative. I went with French-cut green beans. Do you think that’s okay?”

I pat her on the back. “I think it’s absolutely perfect.”

She looks relieved. “Oh good.”

“I think everything about this wedding’s been totally perfect,” I tell her. “Really amazing, Jeannette. You should be proud.”

She smiles. “Thanks, Elizabeth. I needed to hear that just now.” She lowers her voice, although there’s no one around to hear. “Catherine is good at finding the imperfections, if you know what I mean.”

I nod. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean. Are you going to dinner now?”

“Yes, I think so. Want to walk out there together?”

“Sure,” I tell her. “Have you seen our husbands around?”

“As far as I know, they’re not back yet.” She glances at her watch. “But they better hurry it up.”

“Where did they go anyway?” I ask.

She puts a forefinger to her lips, then says quietly, “Don’t tell anyone, but they’re hiding the getaway car.”

I nod. “I see.”

“Michael has rented a lovely cabin not far from here where they’ll stay the night, but they don’t want anyone to know or to follow them. So the men drove Michael’s car to an undisclosed location, and it’s all rather complicated. I’m sure Phil will explain it to you later.”

“I bet you’re exhausted,” I say as I hold the door open for us.

“I really am,” she admits. “It’s been lovely and wonderful, but I’ll be glad when it’s over.”

“I know.” Then I look out to the huge white tent that’s been set up for the dinner. The sun’s just gone down, and it’s getting dusky out. The blue of the lake seems to be melding into the mountains, and there are little white lights strung about the trees, as well as numerous white votive candles in glass jars hanging here and there. The effect is truly enchanting.

“Oh my!” I say, grabbing Jeannettes arm. “It looks like we’re in a fairyland!”

“Isn’t it pretty?”

The trail from the lodge is outlined by white luminaries, and I can hear soft jazz coming from the direction of the tent. “Oh, this is really fun, Jeannette.”

She giggles. “It is, isn’t it? Kind of invigorating and refreshing after the long day. I hope everyone can just relax now and let their hair down.”

Garlands of greenery and soft pink flowers adorn the entrance to the enormous tent, and once we’re inside, I see the enchantment hasn’t stopped at the door. White cloth-covered tables have low elegant clusters of pale pink rosebuds and soft feathery greenery, and the only lighting is from the white candles nestled in the arrangements. But the place is just glowing. Everything is absolutely perfect and magical.

Some guests are milling about with drinks in hand, some of
the older ones are already seated, and others are watching the small jazz ensemble in the corner next to the wooden dance floor. To my relief, we’re not really late. Even the bride and groom haven’t made an appearance yet.

“You and Phil are sitting at our table up there,” Jeannette informs me, pointing. “The place cards should be set up by now. But if you’ll excuse me, I just remembered I need to go check on something.”

“Need any help?”

“Not really. But I’ll let you know if I do.” She pauses. “Hey, how’s it going with Suzette Burke, by the way? Things still under control?”

“I think so. She seemed okay the last time I saw her.” I’m not about to say that I left her alone in the bar. Hopefully she’s not still up there, getting hammered or making a move on the poor keyboard guy. I glance around the tent but don’t see either her or Jim. For all I know, he might’ve gone back to the lounge as she’d hoped. Maybe they had a little heart-to-heart talk and are making up right now. Maybe they won’t even come to dinner at all. To be honest, I’m not sure I care. Suzette is definitely high maintenance. And I have enough of my own problems without tossing hers into the mix.

I look around for my sons and finally spot Patrick among the group of young people who are listening to the music. I decide to go over and say hello. And I suppose I might say a bit more if the opportunity arises. After all, what are mothers for? Besides that, I told Ingrid I’d drop a hint.

“Hey, Patrick,” I say as I join this group of younger people. “What do you think of the old-fogy music?”

He laughs. “I happen to like jazz.”

“Where’s Conner?”

“Taking a nap.” He glances at his watch. “Hope he makes it down here on time.”

“I’m sure his tummy alarm will be going off any minute now.”

“Where’s Dad?”

I glance around the young people and decide to play these cards close to my chest. “Uh, he’s helping Uncle Eric with something.”

Patrick nods and turns back to listen to the sax solo. I wait for a while, trying to decide whether or not to say something about Ingrid. The music really is quite good, and I wonder where Jenny found this little group. Finally they end that piece and start up another.

“So, Pat,” I begin in a quiet voice, “did you hear about Ingrid?”

“Huh?” He turns and looks curiously at me. “What do you mean?

“Well, I’m not sure she wants everyone to know about this just yet, but it turns out her engagement with Jason is off. I know she’s a little upset about the whole thing, and she could probably use some cheering up tonight. Also, she doesn’t want Jenny to worry about her—you know how close they are. So if there’s anything you and Conner can do to … distract Ingrid, you know, it might help.”

“Sure, Mom,” he says lightly. “That’s too bad. I thought her fiancé was coming up here for the wedding.”

“He came.”

“And he broke their engagement
here?”

I nod. “Yeah, and then he took off.”

“Nice guy.”

“That’s pretty much what I was thinking. Personally, I believe she’s better off without him.”

Patrick slowly nods, and a thoughtful look crosses his brow. I can tell he feels sorry for Ingrid and probably thinks this Jason guy is a real piece of work, but he doesn’t voice this. And, not for the first time, I am reminded of what a fine young man he is—so much like his dad. Or rather what his dad used to be like. Or what I thought he was like. Now I’m not entirely sure. Conner, on the other hand, is more of a cad. He’s a good-hearted cad, but when it comes to the girls, he’s not the most dependable boyfriend. I can’t imagine him making a real lifetime commitment anytime soon. Although that’s probably for the best, since I don’t think he’s mature enough to get into a serious relationship anyway. Patrick, however, is a different story.

I suddenly imagine this being Patrick’s wedding, say, in a year or so. It probably wouldn’t be nearly as lavish as this one, unless he marries an heiress. But I could imagine him meeting the right girl and wanting to settle down. Maybe even someone like Ingrid. And perhaps in a few years they would have a child—maybe even a daughter, and I could have tea parties with her, just like I used to do with Jenny. Holidays would be so much more fun with the sound of little footsteps running through our house on the hill.

Just like a popped bubble, my silly little daydream comes to an abrupt ending. Who knows where I’ll be living in a few years or whether my boys will want to spend holidays with me? Or with their dad? And what if Patrick really does decide to get married, and Phil and I are in the throes of a horrible divorce at the time? Oh, the complications of broken marriages, failed relationships … How does anyone survive it all?

W
hat’s up?” asks Lana as soon as I enter the room. Startled to hear her voice, I literally jump. I must’ve forgotten I have a temporary roommate. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

“Nothing,” I say as I kick off my shoes.

“You don’t look so good,” she says with a frown.

“Thanks,” I respond as I head for the bathroom—my only escape, or so I imagine.

“Is something wrong?” she calls after me.

“No, I’m fine,” I say as I close the door. Will this chick take a hint? I turn on the fan for background noise and to drown out any more questions. Then I flick on the light above the sink and look in the mirror. Unfortunately, she’s right. I
don’t
look so good. Smudgy mascara. No lips. Even my blush seems to have disappeared. Hopefully I can remedy this mess before dinner.

To my relief, it takes only a couple of minutes to put things in order. Ah, the miracles of good makeup. Even though I’m finished, I still don’t want to go back out and face another onslaught of Lanas questions. Why on earth would I want to tell this girl that I’ve just been jilted by Jason? I suppose I could lie to her and say I dumped him first, but what would be the purpose? I actually press my ear against the door and, holding my breath, listen carefully to see if she’s still there. It sounds perfectly quiet, and I think the coast is clear. But as soon as I step out, I see her sitting on the edge of the bed as if she’s actually waiting for me. Ready to pounce. The obnoxious roommate who just won’t go away. How did Jenny put up with her?

“At least you look a little better now,” she says with a slight frown, as if I’m still not quite together. “Ready to go down to dinner?”

I cross my arms across my front, wishing she’d disappear. “I guess.”

“What is wrong with you, Ingrid?”

“Nothing,” I say as I push my feet back into the pretty shoes that have been pressing into my arches. I’m tempted to leave them behind and go to dinner barefoot, but I have a feeling Jenny’s new mother-in-law might not approve.

“Well, it’s getting late,” she announces as if she’s personally in charge of me. “We’d better go.”

She continues to query me regarding my state of mind as we walk downstairs, but I’m doing my clam act now. It’s something I
learned to do when I was a kid and my parents got into a fight. I’d just shut up and quit talking to both of them until they were finished. I still use it sometimes. And I’ve learned it can occasionally prevent trouble, since it keeps my big mouth shut—at least temporarily.

“Where’s your fiancé?” she asks when we reach the lobby.

Now that there are other people around, I decide I should appear a bit more civilized, especially since I am the maid of honor. This means pasting a smile on my face. And for Jenny’s sake I answer Lana. “He went home.”

“Why?” she demands as I open the door that leads outside.

“Because he had something to take care of.” Okay, I have no idea why I said that, but I suppose it’s not exactly a lie. He has a new girlfriend to take care of, right?

“So
that’s
why you’re so bummed,” she says as if she’s suddenly turned into Sherlock Holmes.

I don’t respond. But as soon as we’re outside, I forget all about her questions. I allow myself to be caught up in the unexpected beauty of the purplish blue sky, the lights, and the glowing tent.

“Isn’t this beautiful?” I gush.

“Yeah, it’s nice. I just hope there’s some source of heat inside that tent. These dresses aren’t exactly warm, you know.”

I roll my eyes as we follow the illuminated trail toward the entrance of the tent. I’m thinking the sooner I can shake this chick the better. Because to my surprise, I am suddenly feeling hopeful. Although it makes no sense, I’m excited about the possibilities of
the evening. I’m looking forward to the corny champagne toasts and the dinner and the dancing and the whole works. Most of all, I want to be supportive of Jenny and Michael tonight. I want to celebrate with them. And, to be perfectly honest, I simply wanna have fun!

The jazz group is playing at the front, and I use this as an excuse to break away from Lana since she’s headed straight for the appetizer table. And even though I wouldn’t mind getting something to eat—my stomach has been growling since shortly after the wedding—I’m so relieved to escape Lana that food has become secondary.

A couple of dozen people are already up near the band, clustered like middle-school kids around the edges of the dance floor. Like they’re afraid to make the plunge. But of course it’s too early for dancing. Jenny and Michael plan to kick that off after the dinner. As I get closer to the band, although the lighting is dim, I think I see Patrick among the people milling around. But I decide to just chill, reminding myself that I’m barely broken up with Jason. I don’t need to go chasing after Patrick now.

I stand on the fringe of the spectators, and the next thing I know, Patrick steps over to stand by me. “Where’s your fiancé?” he asks. Talk about cutting to the chase.

I’m not sure how to respond to this. I guess I should’ve had a rehearsed line, but I had wanted to break the news to Jenny before anyone else. Finally I decide it can’t hurt to tell him. “Can you keep a secret?” I ask.

He nods and actually leans down.

“He dumped me,” I whisper.

His brows lift, and his eyes grow wide as if he can’t believe it.

I nod. “It’s true.”

Then he sort of smiles. “Well, you should be relieved, Ingrid. Sounds like that guy isn’t the brightest porch light on the block, anyway.”

I have to laugh at this goofy but sweet response. “Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”

“So you’re okay?”

“I think so. Oh, it was kind of a shock, but it’s all for the best.”

“I’d have to agree with you there.”

“Here they come!”
calls someone from behind us. We all turn around in time to see Michael and Jenny entering the tent. Like celebrities, they walk through the crowd of well-wishers, taking time to shake hands, hug, or accept kisses for the bride. They look so elegant, so perfectly gorgeous together, and yet they’re so friendly and warm too. What an amazing couple!

“Come on up here, kids,” calls Michael’s dad from one of the head tables. Then he dings a fork on his glass, and the room grows quiet. “If we could all take our seats, I hear that dinner’s about to be served.”

Everyone begins moving around now, and before long, we are all seated. As I sit next to the empty chair with Jason’s place card neatly situated, I wish I’d thought to tell someone he wasn’t going to make it. And although not all the chairs are filled yet, I feel
rather conspicuous sitting next to this empty chair, as if it’s shouting to the entire world, especially everyone here tonight, that Ingrid Campbell, maid of honor, has been dumped by her fiancé. Swell.