I smiled up at him, trying to pinpoint exactly what it was in his expression that I found so unsettling.
My parents were already waiting downstairs when Jack and I joined them just as Thomas rang the doorbell. The dogs went crazy with barking until they saw that it wasn’t anybody who seemed intent on scalping us all and calmed down, even allowing behind-the-ear scratches from Thomas. My dad was corralling the dogs in the kitchen when Jayne came down the stairs, and I wished that I had gone to the kitchen with him so I didn’t have to see the look on Jack’s face. It was different from the one on Thomas’s face, but still full of admiration and appreciation of the feminine form. But there was something else in Jack’s expression, something that looked a lot like familiarity. Or maybe it was recognition? Either way, it made something thick and hard form in the pit of my stomach.
“You look stunning,” Thomas said, walking forward and taking her hand. For a minute it didn’t look as though she’d relax her arm for him to move her hand to his lips, but at the last moment she allowed him to take it, dropping her sweater in the process.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling shyly, making her eyes sparkle and her skin flush becomingly against the pale blue of her chiffon gown. My mother had done a great job of selecting a dress that was not only beautiful, but also cleverly styled to hide the sheer sexiness of it. The material shifted and swayed over Jayne’s body, giving a tantalizing glimpse of skin a little at a time. A high slit that started midthigh gave it that little extra oomph.
Thomas bent to pick up her sweater and she took the opportunity to give him the once-over. “You’re wearing pants.”
His mouth twitched. “Yes, I usually do when I leave the house. But these match my tuxedo jacket, so I figured I’d wear these instead of my khakis.”
My mother stepped forward, her hands outstretched. “You look lovely, Jayne. And so do you, Mellie,” she said almost as an afterthought. She looked from one of us to the other. “Did you plan to wear your hair the same way?”
We looked at each other with surprise, noticing we’d both gone with the messy-bun look, complete with a rhinestone clip tucked into the left side. “Actually,” I said, “it’s just a coincidence.”
Before Jack could say there was no such thing, Nola came bounding down the stairs with her Vera Bradley overnight bag. It was pink and floral and not to her taste at all, but Amelia had given it to her for Christmas, so she used it. “Picture time!” she said, holding up her iPhone.
“That’s not really necessary . . .” I began, but my father was already reaching for the phone.
He gestured for us to all stand at the base of the stairs, and it felt absurdly like the senior prom I’d never had. He and my mother discussed the best poses and positions as he snapped away, taking so many pictures that my face started to hurt from smiling.
“That’s enough, Dad,” I said, reaching up to grab the phone from him.
Instead he took hold of my hand and turned it so that the ring faced him. He studied it for a long moment before turning to my mother. “You gave this to her?”
Ginette actually flushed. “Well, yes. I certainly wasn’t wearing it, and it was just sitting in a jewelry box. It’s a lovely ring, and I thought Melanie could get some wear out of it.”
He turned to look at it again, his lips pressed together in a hard line. “Can’t believe you still hung on to this, considering it was given to you by a previous boyfriend.”
I looked back at my mother, who was definitely red. “It was a long time ago, James. I didn’t even remember that I still had it until Mellie and I were looking through all my jewelry for a necklace and found it. It has no sentimental value to me anymore, so that’s why I gave it to her.”
“An old friend gave this to me for my sixteenth birthday.” That was what she’d said when she gave the ring to me. I’d thought by “old friend” she’d meant Button and wondered if the confusion had been simply my misunderstanding or a deliberate avoidance on her part of telling the whole truth.
I wanted to ask her more, but Nola’s ride appeared and we spent a few moments saying good-bye, and then my parents went upstairs to relieve Mrs. Houlihan and gather the children and their belongings. I thought it was my imagination, but it almost seemed that Jack was avoiding my mother, orchestrating where he stood to be at the farthest spot from her. When I pointed out that we needed to move the car seats from my car to theirs, Jack seemed almost excited to be going outside.
He kissed the babies good-bye, then excused himself to check on the dogs, lingering in the kitchen long enough that he missed my parents’ leaving. I allowed him to help me with my shawl, then held back as Thomas and Jayne stepped out on the piazza, using the moment to have a private conversation.