“If that’s what you’d like,” she says crisply. “I’m simply trying to make sure things go smoothly for Ash’s sake.”
“Of course. But Bonnie has this covered. She was Claire’s right hand in the kitchen for years.”
I may be out of line here, but I don’t care.
Jillian doesn’t slink off. That’s not her style. Instead, she gives us a tight smile and turns on her heel.
“Thank you,” Bonnie says as soon as she’s gone. “That’s one less thing to worry about now.”
It seems like the right moment to take my leave, too, and I head outside through the back door. Clacking sounds fill the air, and as I round the corner of the house, I see that Blake is supervising as two groundskeepers set up the rented white folding chairs in rows on the lawn. If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone was getting married here today.
And what a beautiful day the lucky couple would have. For the first time I take note of the bright blue sky. So much for red sky in the morning, sailor’s warning.
The next several hours go by in a blur. Back at the cottage I find Henry awake and Gabe urging him into the shower. I rummage through Henry’s duffel and dig out khaki pants and the one collared shirt he’s brought, then press them on the kitchen table with an iron from under the sink. When Gabe and Henry depart in search of another round of breakfast, I shower quickly, blow-dry my hair, and apply foundation, blush, eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick. Once downstairs again, I reach for the Mary Oliver book, which is still lying on the coffee table, and open it to “Why I Wake Early.”
By now I have the poem memorized, but I plan to hold the book when I’m speaking and glance down a few times so that it looks as if I’m reading, not reciting, which I’ve decided will seem more natural and appropriate for the occasion. I say it aloud a few more times, to make certain I have the beats and emphases right, and I practice making eye contact, using the sitting room furniture as stand-ins for people. I’ve only been in one or two plays where the actors “broke the fourth wall,” that is, acknowledged the presence of the audience, and I need to be comfortable doing it today. Done practicing, I tuck the book into my purse.
By ten fifteen, Henry and Gabe have returned, and the three of us are ready, as spruced up as we can be, considering we obviously hadn’t packed anything for a funeral. I’m wearing a flowy black dress dotted with small pink flowers, and Gabe’s in navy slacks and a blue-and-white-striped dress shirt. The deep circles under my husband’s eyes betray how tough this morning is for him.
Though there’s still forty-five minutes to go until the service, a few people are already mingling on the lawn when we show up there. Some of them turn out to be the members of the string quartet, and I also spot Denton Healy, Claire’s friend and former business partner, who retired a year or two before she did. He’s with his husband, who’s helping him set up several gorgeous floral arrangements he’s designed and brought for the occasion. Blake’s here, too, I notice, now sporting a navy blazer. As far as I know, he’s never left home without one.
Wendy arrives a few minutes later, followed by Keira and Marcus, and my stomach churns as I wait for Hannah’s grand entrance. And then suddenly she’s there, holding hands with Nick and dressed in dark pants and a bright pink blouse. Her choice of outfit surprises me, since she’s worn a dress for dinner every night so far. But I realize that her sundresses tend to reveal a fair amount of cleavage, so perhaps she’s decided that this is not the moment to be treating us all to the sight of her breasts.
As Henry scampers through the grass with Bella and Ginger—and the quartet begins to play a soft classical music piece—Gabe and his brothers merge into a loose conversational group, along with us, their partners. There’s no effort from Hannah to make any eye contact with me this time, which I take as a small blessing. Maybe she’s busy mentally prepping for a reading she’s hoping to wow the crowd with. What could she possibly say about Claire that could be meaningful to anyone here?
Soon, Claire’s long-lost cousin arrives, and shortly after that I spot her college friend, Ellen, emerging from the side of the house. She’s tall, probably six feet, with superstraight posture, which enhances how stunning she looks in the black summer suit she’s chosen for today. While Blake and Gabe greet their mother’s cousin, I make my way toward Ellen and pull her into a hug.
After we separate, she pushes her sunglasses up into her silver hair, to reveal eyes that are bloodshot and puffy.
“Oh, Ellen,” I say, “I’m so sorry. You knew Claire longer than any of us.”
She manages a smile. “Goodness, this is so dreadful. I’ve been on a crying jag for two days.”
I nod. “It’s completely understandable. We’re all so unbearably sad.”
“This isn’t the moment, but can I call you later this week to hear more about what happened to Claire? Ash told me a little, but this seemed to come out of nowhere.”
“I’d be glad to fill you in, though I don’t know much.” Would I ever dare share my theory with her? Ellen seems like a shrewd judge of character. Not at this juncture, I decide.
“Good, I’d appreciate that.” She scans the small crowd and absentmindedly touches the Hermès scarf tied loosely around her neck. “Who’s the beauty in hot pink with Nick? Is that his latest squeeze? I’ve been up in Maine since late June, with miserable Wi-Fi, so Claire and I weren’t emailing as much as usual.”
Sounds like she hasn’t heard about the engagement. And since she’s been out of the loop, it also means she might not have heard if any trouble had been brewing in Claire’s marriage.
“Yep, his latest.” I can’t bring myself to spit out the word fiancée.
“Well, well . . . . I should speak to Ash and the boys. But before I do, let me offer my condolences to you, Summer. You know of course that Claire adored you.”
“Thank you. I don’t know if adore is the right word, but I always felt such affection from her. We all did. Claire was such a giving person.”
She lifts her eyebrows. “You must know, Summer, that the connection you had with Claire was unique. Claire was not only a tiger mom, but she could also be very judgmental, a tough critic. But never about you.”
Judgmental. That’s the same word Wendy used last night.
“But if she was judgmental, why would she think well of me?” I ask. “When I met her, I didn’t exactly have it together. I was waiting tables and performing in tiny black box theaters.”
“But look at what you did for Gabe. Amanda had pulled the rug out from under him, and at first he struggled not only with being betrayed, but with coparenting a toddler. Once you entered his life, you opened your heart to Henry as much as Gabe and made a wonderful home for both of them. That meant so much to Claire. You could have been a pole dancer and she probably wouldn’t have cared.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’m not so sure about that, but I appreciate it, Ellen.”
After she hurries off, I glance around and see that there are about fifteen or so outside guests here, meaning that everyone has probably arrived. Ash is saying hello to people now, looking tired but stoic, summoning charm the way politicians do when they have to concede defeat at a podium. And Jillian is here, of course, though she seems to be keeping her distance from Ash. Is she purposely doing that to throw off suspicion?