I will be waiting to intercept her today.
I imagine her eyes widening, her hands flying up to protect herself.
It’s too late! I yearn to scream at her. You should have stayed away from my husband!
When it’s finally light outside, I rise and go to my armoire, and without hesitation I select Richard’s favorite emerald silk dress. He loved the way it brought it out the green in my eyes. Once it hugged my body, but now it is so loose I clasp a slim gold chain-link belt around my waist to cinch it. With a precision I have not attempted in years I apply my makeup, taking time to blend my foundation, curl my lashes, and apply two coats of mascara. Then I remove the new tube of Clinique lip gloss from my purse and run the sticky, soft pink wand over my lips. I slip on my highest pair of nude heels so my legs look long and lean. I text Lucille that I will be out today, aware that her response will almost certainly be that I should not come in ever again.
I have one stop to make before I go to her apartment. I’ve booked an early appointment at the Serge Normant salon on the Upper East Side. I will be finished and at her place in plenty of time.
It wasn’t difficult to find her schedule; I know what her plans are for today. I slip out quietly, without leaving a note for Aunt Charlotte.
When I arrive at the salon, the colorist greets me. I see her eyes go to my roots, which I never did touch up. “What are you looking for today?”
I hand her a picture of a beautiful young woman and tell her to match the warm, buttery shade.
The colorist looks from the photo to me and back again. “Is this you?”
“Yes,” I say.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Soon the musicians would play Pachelbel’s Canon as she walked down the aisle with her father’s handkerchief—something blue—wrapped around a bouquet of white roses. “Have and hold . . . honor and cherish . . . till death do you part,” the minister would say.
Nellie was leaving for the airport in a few hours. She tucked her new red bikini into one of her two suitcases and checked her to-do list. Her wedding gown had been shipped ahead to the resort by FedEx, and the concierge had confirmed its arrival. Her toiletries were all that remained to pack.
Faint white rectangles showed on the walls where her pictures had hung. She was leaving behind her bed, dresser, and a lamp. Sam had a lead on a new roommate, a Pilates instructor who was coming by tomorrow. If the new roommate didn’t want Nellie’s furniture, she had promised she’d arrange to have the items hauled away. “I’m going to pay rent until someone else moves in, too,” she’d insisted.
She could tell Sam didn’t want to accept the offer, especially since Richard was paying for her trip to Florida and had just covered the cost of the locksmith.
Nellie knew Sam couldn’t afford the apartment on her own. “Come on,” Nellie had said as Sam sat on Nellie’s bed, watching her finish packing. “It’s only fair.”
“Thanks.” Sam had given Nellie a quick, hard squeeze. “I hate good-byes.”
“I’ll see you in a few days,” Nellie protested.
“That’s not what I mean.”
Nellie nodded. “I know.”
A moment later, Sam was gone.
As Nellie wrote out that month’s rent check, the phone rang. She’d been staring at her signature, realizing she might never again sign her old last name. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, she thought. It sounded so dignified.
Nellie checked caller ID before answering. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, lovey, just wanted to double-check your flight number. It’s American, right?”
“Yeah. Hang on.” Nellie opened her laptop and scrolled down through her emails to find the airline’s confirmation, then read the information aloud. “It gets in at seven-fifteen.”
“Will you have had dinner?”
“Only if you consider a package of peanuts a meal.”
“I can cook for you.”
“Let’s keep it simple—why don’t we just pick up something on the way home? . . . By the way, did you pick out your spa treatments yet? Richard booked us massages and facials, but you need to let them know if you want a deep-tissue or Swedish or whatever. . . . Did you see the brochure he emailed you?”
“He doesn’t need to do that for me. You know I have trouble sitting still for those kinds of things.”
It was true; Nellie’s mom’s preferred form of relaxation would be taking a walk on the beach at sunset, rather than lying facedown on a masseuse’s table. But Richard hadn’t known that. He’d wanted to do something special. How could Nellie tell him her mother had rejected his gesture?
“Try it. I bet you’ll like it more than you think.”
“Just sign me up for whatever you’re getting.”
Nellie knew she was far from the only daughter who chafed at what seemed to be veiled maternal barbs. “So much processed sugar,” her mother had murmured the last time Nellie ate a bag of Skittles in front of her, and she’d asked more than once how Nellie could stand the “claustrophobia” of Manhattan.
“Please at least act excited about it in front of Richard.”
“Lovey, you seem so concerned by what he thinks all the time.”
“I’m not concerned. I’m appreciative! He’s so good to me.”
“Did he ask if you wanted to spend the day before your wedding getting a facial?”
“What? Why does that even matter?” Only Nellie’s mother could get her so riled up about a stupid spa treatment. No, not stupid! It was Richard’s gift.
“Let me just say something. You’ve told me that facials make you break out. Why wouldn’t you tell that to Richard? And he bought a house you hadn’t even seen. Do you want to live in the suburbs?”
Nellie exhaled through her teeth but her mother continued, “I’m sorry, but he seems like he has such a strong personality.”
“You’ve only met him once!” Nellie protested.
“You’re still so young, though. I’m worried you might fade away. . . . I know you love him, but please stay true to yourself, too.”
Nellie was not going to do this; she’d walk away from the fight her mother seemed determined to pick. “I have to finish packing. But I’ll see you in a few hours.” After some wine on the plane has fortified me.
Nellie hung up the phone and went into the bathroom to gather up her toiletries. She arranged her cosmetics, toothpaste, and lotions in her travel kit, then glanced in the mirror above the sink. Despite the fact that she hadn’t been sleeping, her skin looked perfect.
She strode back into the bedroom, picked up the phone, and called the resort’s salon to cancel her facial. “Can I get a seaweed body wrap instead?”
She was only spending a few days with her mother before Richard would fly down and they headed to the resort for the wedding; she’d be able to get through it. Plus, Sam and her aunt would be flying in a day early and could help serve as buffers.
She laid the toiletry kit in the still-open suitcase and tried to close it. But she could barely zip it halfway.
“Dammit!” She tried to force down the lid.
The problem was, she still had no idea where they’d be going for the honeymoon. She’d guessed someplace tropical because of Richard’s comment about the bikini, but even warm-weather islands could turn chilly at night. She’d packed casual dresses, beach cover-ups, athletic wear, a few evening outfits in case there was a dress code, as well as heels and flip-flops.
She’d have to start over. She began pulling out of her suitcase all the items she’d carefully folded. Three fancy outfits instead of four, she decided, also tossing one of the pairs of heels into the brown packing box by her closet. And the floppy beach hat that had looked so cute in the J. Crew catalog might not make the cut.