Chương 9
“Did you?”
Vivian’s lips parted.
Elena waited.
A moth struck the porch light, dropped, and battered itself upward again.
Finally Vivian said, “Survival is not the same as happiness.”
“No,” Elena replied. “It isn’t.”
Margaret opened the door another inch. “Will you tell Adrian to stay away?”
Vivian looked between them.
“I will tell him Elena asked.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“It is what I can do.”
She walked back to her car without saying goodbye.
Elena closed the door and fastened the deadbolt.
For several seconds, neither woman moved.
Then Margaret said, “She was right about me.”
Elena rested the garment bag against the wall. “Which part?”
“That I liked the way his attention made you look chosen.”
Elena looked tired. “Everyone did.”
“I should have seen more.”
“Maybe.”
Margaret had expected denial. The simple answer hurt worse.
Elena picked up the garment bag and carried it into the living room.
“Do you want to talk about the other times?” Margaret asked.
“No.”
“All right.”
“I mean not tonight.”
“All right.”
“And don’t say all right like you’re scheduling it.”
Margaret sat on the arm of a chair. “How should I say it?”
“Maybe don’t.”
So Margaret did not.
They watched a late baseball game without sound. Neither cared about baseball. Elena folded and unfolded the veil across her lap until the netting snagged on her ring.
She removed the ring slowly.
The diamond had belonged to Adrian’s grandmother. It was large enough to feel separate from the hand wearing it.
Elena placed it on the coffee table.
“I kept waiting to feel grateful enough,” she said.
Margaret looked at her.
“For what?”
“For all of it. The ring. The house. The wedding. The museum grant. Every time something felt wrong, there was another thing I was supposed to appreciate.”
“You don’t owe someone marriage because they gave you expensive things.”
“I know that when you say it.”
“Do you know it when he does?”
“No.”
The answer came without defense.
Margaret reached across the space between them, then stopped before touching her. Elena saw the movement and extended her hand.
They sat that way through the final inning, holding on without speaking.
At two in the morning, the security light over the driveway turned on.
Margaret woke on the sofa and reached for her glasses.
A black car idled at the curb.
She stood.
Elena came down the stairs behind her. “Is it him?”
“I don’t know.”
The car remained for less than a minute, then drove away.
Elena checked her phone.
A message from Adrian waited.
I am not coming in. I need you to know I am here and that I love you.
Elena read it twice.
Margaret said, “That is not reassuring.”
“No.”
“Do you want to call Grace?”
“No.”
“Police?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to stop offering options?”
“Yes.”
They went upstairs.
Margaret slept outside Elena’s bedroom on the floor with a pillow and an old quilt. At some point Elena opened the door.
“You look ridiculous,” she said.
“I feel worse.”
“There’s a guest room.”
“This is closer.”
“I’m not twelve.”
“I know.”
Elena stood barefoot in the doorway. “Come inside, then.”
Margaret slept on top of the blankets beside her daughter, leaving a careful space between them.
In the morning, the wedding planner called at seven eleven.
By seven thirty, messages had arrived from Elena’s maid of honor, three cousins, the museum director, and a gossip columnist Margaret had met twice at charity dinners. The story had not become public, but it had begun moving.
Adrian’s message to the wedding party remained the only official version: minor bridal emergency, all is well.
Elena sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee she had forgotten to sweeten.
“What do you want people told?” Margaret asked.
“I don’t know.”
“The rehearsal transportation needs an answer.”
“Cancel it.”
“The rehearsal or transportation?”
“The rehearsal.”
Margaret nodded.
“And the wedding,” Elena added.
The words changed the room.
Margaret set down her cup.
Elena stared into hers. “I can’t marry him.”
“No.”
“I don’t know what happens after I say it.”
“No one does.”
“I thought you would sound more certain.”
“I’m trying something new.”
Elena gave a faint smile that disappeared quickly.
She called the wedding planner herself.
Her name was Brooke, and she cried before Elena did. She had spent eleven months organizing the wedding and seemed embarrassed by her own reaction.
“I’m sorry,” Brooke said. “That was unprofessional.”
“It’s okay.”
“It isn’t. I just—I care about you, and I also have thirty-two vendors asking where to deliver things, and that sounded horrible.”
“It sounded honest.”
Brooke took a breath. “Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to say anything publicly?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to tell the vendors there has been a family emergency?”
Elena glanced at Margaret.
“No,” she said. “Tell them the wedding is canceled. No reason.”
“Adrian’s office has already told the venue not to release any statement.”
“I’m the bride.”
“Yes. You are. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
“I apologize when I panic.”
“So do I.”
They were silent for a moment.
Then Brooke said, “I will cancel everything I control. Some contracts are in the Bellamy Foundation’s name. Some are in your mother’s.”
Margaret opened a drawer and removed a folder containing copies of the wedding agreements.
“How bad?” Elena asked.
Brooke gave a number.
Margaret felt her stomach drop.
The nonrefundable deposits totaled more than many people earned in a year. She had agreed to them because the Bellamys were covering most of the larger expenses, and because refusing luxury had begun to feel like accusing them of showing off.
“I’ll handle it,” Margaret said.
Elena covered the phone. “No.”
“This part is mine.”
“You didn’t cancel the wedding.”
“I signed the contracts.”
“Because I asked you to.”
“And I am not going to make money the reason you reconsider.”
Elena looked at the paperwork.
May you like
She returned to the call. “Cancel it.”
Brooke began working.
