The One In My Heart

“It’s easy to make Zelda happy. You, on the other hand, are absolutely impossible, sweetheart.”


No one had ever said anything of the sort to me. Yet the truth of it was like a kick to the chest. Was he being playful again, or did he really understand, deep down, that I wasn’t the well-adjusted “sweetheart” I presented to the world?

“Watch it, Somerset. There are men who would pay a million dollars for this—sex not included.”

“Ah, yes, you promised early and often. You are a woman of your word, Canterbury.”

With that, he took my hand and started walking. I stared at our interlaced fingers.

He followed my line of sight. “It’s okay. We don’t have to be dating to hold hands.”

We didn’t. It was only the intimacy of the gesture that had jarred me.

The hotel staff directed us toward a flight of stairs that would lead us to the ballroom.

“Nervous?” I asked.

He exhaled. “Badly.”

He had seemed perfectly at ease, like George Clooney about to work a crowd. But now I noticed the tension he carried in his shoulders.

“So if I come on to you inappropriately,” he continued, “blame it on my nerves.”

We were at the top of the stairs. I halted his progress. Everything about his outfit was perfectly in place, but I took a moment to smooth his collar.

Maybe he was all about exploiting me for his own purposes, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he’d brought me out of the rain—and out of my misery—when I most needed it.

“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I got you.”

He traced a finger across my cheek. “I know you do.”


WHEN WE RESUMED WALKING HAND in hand toward the reception line, there were people looking at us—to be expected when a handsome and sharply dressed man showed up at a wedding. After a moment I realized that I knew some of those people, and they were surprised not so much by Bennett, but by me. It had been ages since I went anywhere with a man by my side.

I introduced Bennett to a couple of guests. Then it was our turn to congratulate the new couple. I hugged both bride and groom. Bennett shook hands with the groom and hugged the bride too. “Nice to see you again, Charlotte. I almost can’t believe you’re old enough to be married.”

Charlotte looked nonplussed—she’d have been ten or eleven when he was disowned and probably didn’t remember him at all. Her mother, farther down the line, gasped.

“My God, Bennett! It really is you. I didn’t know you were coming today.”

“I’m just here to keep an eye on Evangeline, but it’s very nice to see you again, Mrs. Devonport.”

“Yes, of course,” said Mrs. Devonport, still dazed. “Evangeline Canterbury, is it? You were Zelda’s stepdaughter.”

“That’s me. Bennett and I were neighbors for a while when I was housesitting for Collette Woolworth in Cos Cob. Now that I’m back in the city, we don’t get to see each other as much. Since he’s off tonight I thought I’d show him around a bit.” I patted him on his sleeve. “The man works too much.”

“I hope you have a great time,” said Mrs. Devonport eagerly. “We have a fantastic deejay—or at least that’s what Charlotte tells me.”

We congratulated her and moved on. By the time we got to the ballroom, news of Bennett’s presence had spread. Guests came and reintroduced themselves; those of the younger generation were his former schoolmates and neighbors, those of an older generation friends or acquaintances of his parents.

But no sign of the parents themselves.

“Are they not here?” I asked when we were finally able to sit down, after this bout of heavy-duty schmoozing.

“If they are, I can’t see them.”

We’d arrived a bit late on purpose, so that as we made our way across the ballroom, we’d be easily visible to the guests who were already seated. “You think they might be running behind too?”

Bennett shook his head, a grim look on his face. “For them, punctuality is next to godliness.”

“But there isn’t a set time for dinner.”

The reception, despite its location, was a casual affair, with a small-plates buffet and no formal seating arrangements.

“If they were coming at all, they wouldn’t miss the toasts.”

As if on cue, the best man rose for his speech.

Speeches and toasts followed one another. I glanced at Bennett every so often. He laughed and applauded at all the right places, showing no signs of having been let down. When the bride and groom took the floor for their first dance, however, he laid his head on my shoulder and sighed.

My heart ached, as if his disappointment were my own. “There’ll be other chances.”

He sighed again. “I know. I’ll be fine.”