After their orders were taken, a busboy filled their water glasses. When he got to Nathan, he tipped the pitcher too far and an errant ice cube landed beside his silverware.
“Perdóneme, perdóneme.” The busboy scooped the ice into his hand and hurried away.
“You think he’s running off in case I call immigration?” Nathan tore off a hunk of bread and shoved it into his mouth.
Madeleine gave her daughter a preemptive kick under the table, which did not deter Oona. “Did you really just say that?”
“This country is crowded enough with foreigners. There should be some stricter rules about who gets to stay here, that’s all I’m saying.”
Snap went Oona’s breadstick, which she kept breaking into smaller pieces. “And did your family come over on the Mayflower? Oh wait, those people were also foreigners.”
“I was only joking.” Nathan sat back and chuckled. “I like this one,” he said to Madeleine. “She’s a little spitfire, isn’t she?”
Both women pasted brittle smiles onto their faces, which they wore for the rest of the meal.
“Did you tell her about our trip?” Nathan asked during dessert.
“I didn’t.” Shifting in her chair, Madeleine took a long sip of coffee before answering. “We’re spending three weeks on the Amalfi Coast.”
“How wonderful.” Oona’s tone was flinty. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle all the foreigners?”
Paired with the phony grin, Madeleine’s glower gave her face a demonic look.
This time, Nathan’s chuckle was forced. “Well, those are my people, so it’s different.”
“Your people, got it.” Oona nodded. “Do pharmacists get that much vacation time? Or do you own the drugstore?”
“I don’t. I had to pull some strings to get people to cover for me, but how could I say no to your mother’s generosity, treating me to such a lavish trip?”
“You obviously couldn’t. And yes, Mom is incredibly generous. Maybe too generous.”
“I could say the same thing about you, Oona.” Butter in her voice, venom in her glare.
Smiling through a mouthful of crème brûlée, Oona crunched down hard on the caramelized sugar.
The check came, and Nathan’s lame reach for it was convincing to no one. There was a lot of halfhearted insisting until Oona waved everyone off and slid her credit card into the leather folio.
“Excuse me, ladies, I got an appointment with Doctor John.” Nathan cocked finger guns at the bathroom and moseyed on over.
Eyebrows raised, Oona turned to her mother. “Doctor John?”
“He has his eccentricities.” She waved her hand like dispersing smoke.
“Rich people get to be eccentric. You are eccentric. Is Nathan rich?”
“That’s not your business.”
“I bet he isn’t, since you’re paying for Italy. So he doesn’t get to be eccentric. He’s something else.” She didn’t complete her thought as Nathan headed back toward them.
Things were strained between mother and daughter after that lunch, but both were too romantically entrenched to acknowledge the distance building between them.
In July, Edward announced he’d found an investor for the restaurant and booked a long weekend in a private beachfront cottage on Cape Cod for the two of them to celebrate. By day, they kayaked, ate fresh clams and oysters, and lounged in the sand. At night, they went skinny-dipping and had sex on the beach.
The trip was idyllic, and this time Oona hoped Edward would propose. Despite her rising anticipation, he didn’t.
One Thursday morning in early August, she woke up to Edward crouching by her bed.
“Let’s go feed the ducks.” He held up a paper bag full of rolls. “I thought we could enjoy a bit of the outdoors before the day gets too hot.”
In the park, they followed the running path down to the lake and perched on a fallen log.
Come on, Kenzie, where are you? I better see you this year.
Oona forced herself back into the moment and joined Edward in tearing up bread and throwing it along the shore for the hungry birds.
When she reached into the bag for one of the last rolls, her fingers brushed against a velvet cube.
Oh!
Edward got on one knee and opened the box. “I’ve known since our flight to Egypt that you’re the woman I want to spend my life with. You’re smart, gorgeous, kind, and you have quality music taste. God knows what you see in a bloke like me.” He offered a wink and self-deprecating chuckle. “But seriously, I just want to do whatever I can to make you happy. Before my mum died, she told me not to put off going after my dreams. ‘We never have as much time as we think we do,’ she said. I thought having a restaurant would be my biggest dream. Then I met you. I know it’s fast,” he concluded. “But life is bloody short and I know you’re it for me. Will you marry me?”
The sky was piercing blue with perfect cotton clouds reflected in the water below, and the balmy air was punctuated with quacking ducks. Edward looked up at her with a tender, hopeful gaze.
Oona’s heart softened and seized. She dropped to her knees across from him. “Of course I’ll marry you. But there’s something I need to tell you first.”
20
A week after the proposal, Edward and Oona were married at City Hall.
A few days after that, Edward’s investor pulled out.
“It’s disappointing, but I’ll move forward. Find another way.” He offered Oona a tight, brave smile as desolation crept in behind his eyes.
I have so much. How could I not share it with him? After all, it’s not like Clary’s Pub will bankrupt me.
“I have another way,” she said. “I’ll be your investor.”
“Absolutely not. I couldn’t put such a burden on our marriage. Out of the question.”
A vehement debate followed, and it took great effort for her to finally persuade him.
At least I know for sure he didn’t marry me for my money.
“I have one condition, though,” Oona said. “I’d like us to go on a honeymoon. Tomorrow. A week on a beach before things get insane with the restaurant.” The timing would also put them out of town during the upcoming citywide blackout. There might’ve been a romantic element to experiencing twenty-nine hours of no electricity, but the prospect was less appealing in a sweltering metropolis. Besides, she and Edward were at their best when traveling.
He agreed to the trip, and she booked a last-minute flight to Barbados.
The following morning, in the kitchen, while waiting for their cab to the airport, Oona checked her watch. The clock hands stood at a right angle indicating three o’clock.
“Damn, I think my watch stopped,” she said just as a car horn sounded.
“We can get it fixed when we get back. You’re going to be on island time, anyway. Let’s go, love, we don’t want to miss our flight.”
Oona unfastened the watch and left it on the counter.
Their honeymoon was blissfully uneventful, but when they returned, the overturned vase in the foyer signaled it was truly over.
“We’ve been robbed!” Oona scurried through the house, looking for anything missing or in disarray. Nothing until the music room: two of her guitars were gone, the Brian Jones and Bowie ones she hadn’t owned during her previous leap.