After a short pause, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small black box, and opened it.
Inside was a marquise-cut yellow diamond set on a wide platinum band. “It’s your grandma Myrtle’s diamond. She wanted you to have it.”
The ring sparked a dozen sweet memories. Whenever her grandmother had dealt a hand of cards, this diamond had splashed tiny colored reflections on the walls.
Dad reached out, took her hand. “I couldn’t let my baby get married with a tinfoil ring.”
She tried it on. The ring fit as if it had been made for her. She leaned over and pulled him into her arms. “Thanks, Dad.”
He smelled of woodsmoke and bay rum aftershave, as he had for the whole of her life, and in that moment, as she held him with her face pressed against his cheek, she remembered a dozen times from her girlhood. Nights they’d gone bowling and had dinner at Zeke’s Drive-In … the way the porch light flickered ten seconds after she and her date pulled into the driveway … the stories he used to tell her at bedtime when she felt scared and alone and missed her big sister.
After tomorrow, she would be a married woman. Another man would be the center of her life, another arm would keep her steady. She would be Bobby’s wife from now on; not Sam Cavenaugh’s little girl.
When Dad drew back, there were tears in his eyes, and she knew he’d been thinking the same thing.
“Always,” she whispered.
He nodded in understanding. “Always.”
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Meghann wished to God she’d never agreed to let Gina host and plan the rehearsal dinner. Every moment was pure hell.
Are you here by yourself?
Where’s your husband?
You don’t have children? Well. That’s lucky, sometimes I wish I could give mine away. This one was followed by a clearly uncomfortable laugh.
No husband, huh? It must be great to be so independent. This one was always followed by a frown.
Meghann knew that Claire’s friends were trying to make conversation with her; they just didn’t know what to say. How could they? This was a group of women who talked endlessly about their families. Summer camp start-times were a big topic of conversation; also resorts that were “kid friendly” on Lake Chelan and along the Oregon Coast. Meghann had no idea what kid friendly even meant. That they served ketchup with every meal, maybe.
They were trying to include her, especially the Bluesers, but the more they tried to make her a part of the group, the more alienated she felt. She could talk about a lot of things—world politics, the situation in the Mideast, where to get the best deal on designer clothes, real estate markets, and Wall Street. What she couldn’t talk about were family things. Kid things.
Meghann stood at the fireplace in Gina’s beautifully decorated house, sipping her second margarita. This one, like the first, was disappearing much too quickly. There were pods of people everywhere—on the deck, in the living room, sitting at the dining-room table—all talking and laughing among themselves. Across the room, Claire stood at the kitchen bar/counter, eating potato chips and laughing with Gina. As Meghann watched, Bobby came up behind Claire and whispered something in her ear. She immediately turned into his arms. They came together like puzzle pieces, fitting perfectly, and when Claire looked up at Bobby, her face glowed.
Love.
There it was, in all its quicksilver glory.
Please, God, she found herself praying for the first time in years, let it be real.
“Okay, everyone,” Gina said, coming into the room. “Now it’s time for the second part of the evening.”
A hush fell. Everyone looked up.
Gina smiled. “Hector is opening the bowling alley just for us! We leave in fifteen minutes.”
Bowling. Rented shoes. Polyester shirts. The division of people into teams.
Meg eased away from the wall. Taking a sip of her cocktail, she realized that she’d finished it. “Damn.”
“We haven’t really met yet. I’m Harold Banner. Karen’s husband.”
Meghann was startled by the man’s presence. She hadn’t heard him approach. “Hello, Harold.”
He was a tall, thin man with bushy black eyebrows and a smile that was just a bit too wide, as if maybe he had too many teeth. “I hear you’re a lawyer.”
“Yes.”
“Let me ask you then—”
She tried not to groan.
He barked out a braying laugh. “Just kidding. I’m a doctor. I get the same thing all the time. Everyone I meet mentions a pain somewhere.”
In the ass, maybe. She nodded and looked down into her empty glass again.
“I guess you left your husband at home, huh? Lucky guy. Karen makes me show up at everything.”
“I’m single.” She tried not to grit her teeth, but this was about the tenth time she’d had to reveal that tonight.