The Wedding Sisters (20 page)

Philadelphia Racquet and Hunt was the oldest private club in the country. Dating back to 1854, it was founded by a group of English men, students at the University of Pennsylvania, who wanted a place to play cricket.

Meryl learned this during Tippy's guided tour.

“The original nine-hole course was built in 1895 by Willie Tucker—he also did St. Andrew's Golf Club and Sand Point Country Club.”

With a half hour to go before the guests were due to arrive for dinner, Meryl had asked Tippy to show her the room that would hold the wedding reception. This had launched a twenty-minute tour of the club that culminated in the grand ballroom.

Meryl made no attempt to hide her awe.

“This is absolutely stunning,” she said. The room could easily accommodate five hundred people. The floor was marble, with a distinct dance space in the center of the room. The ceilings held half a dozen chandeliers, and the massive windows overlooked a lake and the lush green golf course. How they kept the grass that color in the fall was beyond her, but she could only imagine the vista in the heart of springtime.

“That entire section of the grounds will be flowers,” Tippy said, taking Meryl's arm and steering her to another corner of the room. “I'm hoping you can coordinate the floral arrangement with the exterior garden.”

“Oh, okay. That might work.”

“Visual cohesion is so important. We can discuss it with Leigh,” Tippy said.

After the debacle the day of the gift registry, when Meryl had left Leigh Beauford with Meg to get some things done, she'd hoped that would be enough involvement to mollify Tippy. She hadn't heard from her since, and she thought maybe that was that.

Apparently not.

But now wasn't the time to get into it, she knew. Although, now wasn't really the time for Tippy to be dictating the floral scheme either, but maybe this entire weekend was going to be one long pitch for how she wanted things done.

“Is your husband here yet?” Meryl asked, deflecting. “I would love to meet him before everyone else gets here.” Unbelievably, they still had yet to meet—or even speak to—Reed Campion. He was flying in from Harrisburg, but she thought for sure he'd be at the venue by now.

“No, not yet! I'm sorry. It's been so hectic lately, and unfortunately, it's only going to get worse from here. That's why the timing of this engagement was so important. If anything, I wish Stowe had gotten it out of the way sooner—or waited a few years.”

Meryl tried to hide her irritation. “Yes, well, you can't control these things.”

“Oh, heavens no. But at least having the wedding here, we can keep a close eye on things. Do it the right way.”

Suddenly, the massive ballroom felt like it was closing in on her. “I think we should get back to the dining room,” Meryl said.

Cutter Campion, Stowe's younger brother, called out to them from the hall. “Father's arrived. Are you almost done in there?”

“Oh yes,” Tippy said, her face lighting up. “Reed is here!”

*   *   *

Meg pulled her dress out of the closet. Tippy had vetoed the one she'd bought at Monique Lhuillier. It was too short. “The photographs are going to run in a lot of places, dear. We have to make sure you look right. It reflects on Reed, you know. It's not personal.”

Meg, of course, thought there was nothing more personal than her choice of what dress to wear at her engagement dinner. But Stowe had backed his mother on that one. “She's not getting involved in the wedding planning or any of that. Just humor her for one night, okay? For me?”

Tippy had shown up at their town house two weeks ago with a Carolina Herrera dress in hand. It had put Meg in a terribly awkward position. She didn't dislike the dress. It was beautiful, a floor-length sheath of lilac silk—that wasn't the issue. But she couldn't separate the dress from the politics surrounding it.

Focus on what's important, she told herself. She looked at Stowe, and as always, if she let herself give in to it, if she pushed out all the other noise, her love for him overwhelmed her. She knew what she needed, what would get her in the right frame of mind for the night.

She crossed the room and locked the door. Stowe, sitting on the bed, typing on his phone, didn't notice what she was doing until she was beside him, topless. He looked up and after a moment of confusion, smiled the wide, dimpled smile that had leveled her that first night in Los Angeles.

“God, you're beautiful,” he said, tossing aside the phone. He took her face in his hands, kissing her deeply. She heard herself give a tiny moan. The way he made her feel had not ebbed one bit since the beginning. She wanted him more, loved him more, every day. That's why she could say yes to marrying him—her faith that it would continue that way.

He pressed her back, moving on top of her. She fumbled with his belt buckle and the button on his jeans until she found her way to him.

“I love you,” he breathed when he was inside her. She couldn't speak, and instead clutched him harder, kissing his neck and letting her body do all the talking.

Afterwards, in his arms, she said, “I wish we could spend the whole night just like this.”

“That would disappoint a few people.”

“I know,” she said wistfully. “I wish it was our wedding night. Then we'd be on our honeymoon tomorrow.”

“Soon enough,” he said, kissing her and heading for the shower.

Not soon enough for me.

 

fifteen

When Jo had read “dinner and dancing” on the invitation, she'd thought it meant music people could actually, you know, dance to. But the band—and really, it was more like an orchestra—was not producing anything a person under the age of fifty could move to. If she had known she'd be stuck in her seat all night, she wouldn't have even bothered dragging Toby along. But he didn't seem to mind.

There were eight other people at their table, including Amy and Andy and some of Stowe's friends from Harvard. They were all interesting in their own way, and entirely delighted by Toby's stories of his royal family and itinerant education in boarding schools and summers on the Greek islands. They even found some friends in common, people in London whom Jo had never met nor even heard Toby mention before. They all assumed Toby and Jo were a couple, and she didn't bother to correct them. It was so much easier to play along on nights like this. Besides, with nothing to do but drink—she could barely eat, because of course, there was no vegetarian option on the menu—her buzz was getting epic and she would probably fuck Toby in the coatroom if he suggested it. Right now, she kind of hoped he did.

She looked at Amy, who seemed even more plastered than she was. Jo ducked behind Toby's back and tapped Amy's arm. “Want to get some air?”

Amy nodded.

Outside, it was utterly silent in a way they never experienced in New York City. The grounds seemed to unfold endlessly in front of them.

“I feel like we're in the middle of nowhere,” said Jo.

“We are,” said Amy, sitting down on the grass. “God, I'm wasted.”

“Me too.”

“So what's with you and Toby? Are you with him?”

“No. I mean, I'm crashing at his place for a while. And he's been great—a total lifesaver. But we're just friends.”

“Is he aware of that?”

Jo sighed, looking up at the sky. Every star was visible; at least it seemed that way.

“Well … I kind of slept with him … a bunch.”

“You should probably watch that.” Amy lay down, flat on her back.

“I know. The thing is, I wish I could just be with him. It would make my life so much easier. Like, it could be perfect. I have this great, gorgeous friend who's in love with me—”

“He said that?”

Jo nodded. “And he's got all the money in the world and we could travel and collect art and just … well, anything. And idiot that I am, I'm hung up on my college girlfriend, who's planning her own wedding as we speak.”

“Caroline's getting married?”

Jo nodded miserably. “Every time I think about it, I feel sick. I seriously never want to be in love again.”

“Well, we can't help falling in love. Or lust,” Amy said.

“Yeah, but at least you did it in a way that makes you happy.”

“It's not that simple.”

Jo grabbed Amy's hand, touching the enormous diamond ring. “It looks pretty fucking simple from where I'm sitting.”

Then, to Jo's dismay, Amy started to cry.

“Oh my God, what's wrong? Did you guys have a fight?”

Amy shook her head. “No.” Her voice broke.

“What, then?”

“You don't want to know.”

“Fuck yeah, I do. Spill it.”

Amy glanced behind her, back at the building where their families and friends were eating and drinking and dancing, a prelude to the year of celebrations ahead of them.

“I cheated on Andy.”

Jo wished she were more surprised. Andy was a nice guy, but he didn't exactly seem like a dynamo in the sack. “What? When?”

“Two weeks ago. And this is the gross cliché part—it was a model from one of the commercial shoots.”

“Didn't anyone ever tell you not to shit where you eat?”

“That's all you have to say to me?”

Jo put her arm around her. “I'm the youngest sister. I'm not supposed to have words of wisdom.”

“Great.”

“But I do.”

Amy nodded. She was waiting.

“Figure out why you did it. Either it was just a one-time, mindless fuck—in which case, forget about it—these things happen. But if you've been restless, if on some level, you've been looking for it—you have to deal with it. Before you walk down the aisle.”

“That's the thing—I don't know why I did it. I don't think I've been looking for it. But then, how could I cross a line like that? Now—of all times? We've been together for years and I never cheated, and a week after he puts a ring on my finger, I'm banging some stranger on a roof deck. In broad daylight!”

“This story just keeps getting better and better.”

Amy put her head in her arms.

Jo rubbed her back. “It will be okay.” But what she was really thinking was that this just proved it—love sucked. If even tunnel-vision Amy couldn't make it work with Andy, her perfect-on-paper guy, then who could? Was Meg really going to fit into that Republican, camera-ready family of Stowe's? Was Jo ever going to find another Caroline, and have that Caroline love her back just as much? The answer, on all counts, was probably no. So what was the point?

“We should get back,” Amy said, standing up and brushing off her dress.

Jo stood up, and when she turned back toward the clubhouse, she saw Toby headed toward them.

“We've got company,” Jo said. “You go on ahead—he probably needs some air too, poor guy. I dragged him into this circus.”

“Jo, you have to swear—not a word.”

Jo made a zipping motion over her mouth. Amy, apparently satisfied after a moment's hard stare, walked away. She heard her saying something to Toby in the distance, but couldn't make out what it was.

The alcohol in her system must have ebbed, because she suddenly realized how cold it was. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“It's cold out here!” Toby said.

“I know. Sorry I left you to the wolves. Let's head back inside.”

He handed her his jacket. “Can we hang out here for just a few minutes?”

“Sure.”

“I heard there's a lake somewhere around here. Want to try to find it?”

They walked slowly through the dark.

“I feel like I'm at summer camp,” she giggled.

“You went to summer camp?”

“One summer. Between sixth and seventh grades. Totally a disaster. I was the weird New York City girl who couldn't canoe, toast a s'more, or braid lanyards.”

“At least you got to go away. I spent every summer, three whole months, with my parents and sister, usually marooned on some remote island. By August, I felt like a character in
Lord of the Flies.
”

They walked down a hill, and in the bright, nearly full moon, Toby spotted water in the distance.

“These shoes were not meant for this terrain,” she said.

“Get on my back.”

“What?”

“Piggyback. Come on—didn't you learn anything at that camp of yours?”

She laughed, took off her shoes, and jumped on his back. He hitched his hands under her legs and carried her the rest of the way to the lake.

“Voilà—your destination, madam,” he said, easing her to the ground.

“The only problem is you're going to have to get me back up that hill,” she laughed.

“You should know that I'm willing to carry you uphill, Jo,” he said.

She couldn't take the intensity of his gaze, and turned to look out at the black water, a reflection of the moon cutting across it like a patch of ice.

“It's so quiet here,” she whispered.

“I know. The perfect place to talk.”

“Yeah.”

She rubbed her hands together, and then put her them in the pockets of his jacket to warm up. She felt something hard and square. Frowning, she pulled it out.

“What's this?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Why don't you open it?”

Suddenly, Jo's heart began pounding, knowing what was going on before her head did. She pulled open the box to find a princess-cut diamond ring set in platinum. It was giant—stunning. It caught the moonlight, dazzling her.

Before she could process what was happening, Toby got down on one knee and took her hand. “Jo, I know you think I'm crazy. But you have to trust me on this: We belong together. I've known it since the first minute I saw you. I held on to that belief even when you were in love with someone else, and even when you told me you couldn't love a guy. But I think you do love me.”