I wish for you a beautiful day.

At least they had that.

Margot rushed down the stairs, nearly slipping on the next-to-last step; the treads had been worn down to a satiny finish after so many years of bare feet up and down. I’m coming, I’m coming, she thought. A houseful of people, and somehow she was the only one who heard the phone? Or she was the only one stupid enough to get out of bed at-she checked the clock-6:15 to answer it.

“Hello?” she said.

“Margot? It’s Roger.”

“Good morning, Roger,” Margot said.

“You’re aware, I assume, that your sister left me a voice mail at eleven thirty last night-I’m sorry I was asleep-saying that the wedding is off?”

“Yes,” Margot said. “I am aware of that.”

“Is the wedding off?” Roger asked.

“I’m not sure,” Margot said.

“Okay,” Roger said. There was a pause and a suspicious sound of exhale. Was Roger smoking? Had Jenna’s phone call been the thing that sent him right to Lucky Express for a pack of Newports? “Will you let me know when you are sure?”

“Absolutely,” Margot said. “I will absolutely let you know.”

“Thank you,” Roger said. “I probably don’t need to add this, but… the sooner, the better. Good-bye.”

Margot hung up the phone. She would never be able to fall back to sleep, so she made a pot of coffee. She said to herself, I won’t think about anything until I have my coffee and I can sit for a minute in the sun. She would have liked to sit on the swing, but the swing was down for now. She decided instead to take her cup of coffee and the Notebook out to the bench that overlooked the harbor, the same bench where her father had proposed to her mother in 1968. Margot took in the view-Nantucket harbor scattered with sailboats, the white fence and trellis dripping with New Dawn roses. She opened the Notebook.

Invitations, wedding dress, bridesmaid dresses, dyed-to-match pumps, pearls, rehearsal dinner clambake menu (right down to the blueberry cobbler, but Margot hadn’t gotten a single bite), tenting, dance floor, flowers, antique embroidered table linens, china, crystal, silver, hors d’oeuvres, wine, dinner menus, cake, favors, hotel rooms, bands versus DJs, song lists, schedule of dances, bridesmaid gifts, honeymoon locations. There were many references to their father, including the beautiful last page. And there were many references to Margot. “Margot is the most competent woman you or I will ever know. And to butcher the old song: ‘Anything I can do, she can do better.’ ” Margot had read those lines hundreds of times; they were among her favorite lines in the Notebook. But they missed a fine distinction: Margot could do the things that Beth could do, but Margot could not be Beth. And what Jenna needed now, more than anything, was Beth.

Margot flipped through the pages to the end of the Notebook, where the ancillary material was-the list of Beth’s cousins, the brochure for Caneel Bay in St. John, the name and number of the landscaper to call should the perennial bed be trampled by the tent guys, after all.

There was no mention of Cold Feet.

In composing the Notebook, their mother had left out a few things that were really important.

Tell us what to do when we feel doubt, Margot thought. Tell us what to do when we feel anger. Tell us how to handle our sadness, Mom. We are, every one of us, paralyzed with sadness because you aren’t here today, you weren’t here yesterday, you won’t be here tomorrow.

When Jenna and Margot had first met with Roger, Margot had baldly stated the fact. “We are a family without our mother.”

Roger had nodded in that unflappable way of his, like there was nothing they could say that could shock him, like he had seen it all before.

Jenna had then triumphantly held up the Notebook. “But we have this!”

But this, Margot thought, as she closed the Notebook and headed back to the house, wasn’t enough.

Margot poured a cup of coffee for Jenna and added half and half and three teaspoons of sugar. Jenna, of course, drank it sweet and light, while Margot drank hers hot, bitter, and black. Up in Margot’s room, Ellie was jumping on the bed, chanting, “Auntie Jenna’s getting married today! Married today! Married today!”

Jenna’s spot in the bed was unoccupied.

Margot said, “Eleanor, stop that this instant. That bed is ancient, and you will break it!”

Ellie launched herself off the bed and crashed onto the braided rug.

Margot said, “Well, now the whole house is awake.”

Ellie said, “Can I go up and see the boys?”

“No,” Margot said. “I need you to do something quiet. Get your iPod and go downstairs.”

“My iPod is boring,” Ellie said.

“I don’t care,” Margot said. “I have to talk to your Auntie Jenna.”

Ellie folded her arms across her chest. She was still in her bathing suit, still salt-and-sand encrusted from yesterday’s trip to the beach. The Department of Social Services was sure to arrive at any moment.

“I want to stay and listen,” Ellie said.

“It’s adult stuff,” Margot said. There was a part of her that believed Ellie should stay and listen. After all, Ellie would one day grow up to be a woman. It might not be a bad idea for her to learn now, at the tender age of six, that the world was a complicated place, that other people’s minds could not be read, their emotions could not be predicted, that love was fleeting and capricious, that once you thought you’d figured everything out, something would happen to prove you wrong. Life was a mystery, and nobody knew what happened when we died.

“I don’t care,” Ellie said. “I want to listen.”

“Downstairs,” Margot said.

“No,” Ellie said.

Margot closed her eyes. She was feeling the drinks from the night before, which brought around thoughts of kissing Griff and her treachery and Edge’s impending arrival. Margot’s hands trembled. She set her coffee down on the dresser and sighed. “Okay, go upstairs with the boys, then.”

Ellie let out a whoop, then did a pirouette across the floor. Thank God for Mme Willette’s ballet class; it was the only thing keeping Ellie from turning into a wild Indian.

Margot said, “Where did Auntie Jenna go?”

Ellie said, “Bathroom.”

Margot grabbed her coffee and lay back on the bed, propping herself up against the pillows. The sheets were filled with sand.

What am I going to say? she wondered.

When she’d sat next to Jenna on the front stairs the night before and asked why she was crying, Jenna had told her she was calling the wedding off.

“What?”

“I’m not getting married,” Jenna said.

“Why not?” Margot said.

“Stuart lied to me,” Jenna said.

“He lied to you?” Margot said. That didn’t sound like Stuart. Stuart was as square a peg as had ever lived. He hadn’t even wanted a bachelor party. What man didn’t want a bachelor party? Drum Sr.’s bachelor party in Cabo had included more people than had attended their wedding and had lasted longer than their honeymoon.

Jenna’s lower lip trembled, and she sucked it in the way she used to when she was a little girl. “He was engaged before,” she said.

“What?” Margot said.

“To Crissy Pine,” Jenna said. “His girlfriend from college. He was engaged to her for five weeks! Helen told me, Helen who used to be his stepmother. The woman in the yellow dress tonight.”

Margot’s brain felt like it was going to short-circuit. She didn’t know how to process this information. “Five weeks isn’t very long, Jenna. Five weeks is nothing. It’s negligible.”

“He lied to me!” Jenna said. “He was engaged before! He never told me!”

“You found this out from Helen?” Margot said. “Chance’s mother?”

“It was the first time I ever met her,” Jenna said. “She and Stuart aren’t close; he was shocked his mother invited her. But nearly the first thing Helen said to me was that she was glad things worked out for Stuart this time. And I must have made a confused face because then she said, ‘Well, you know about his broken engagement to Crissy Pine?’ And I said no, and she leaned in conspiratorially, like we were girlfriends, and she said, ‘Stuart was engaged to Crissy Pine for five weeks, and after he broke it off, she refused to return his great-grandmother’s diamond ring.’ ” Jenna was in full-blown tears now. “He gave her his great-grandmother’s ring!”

Margot blinked. Why couldn’t people keep their mouths shut? What did Helen think would be gained by breaking this news to Jenna the evening before her wedding? Did it give her some awful sense of accomplishment?

Margot said, “Helen is an iffy source. She might be lying. Or exaggerating.”

“I confronted Stuart!” Jenna said. “He admitted it was true. He proposed to Crissy, he gave her his great-grandmother’s ring, he broke it off five weeks later, and she was so mad that she never gave the ring back. She still has it!”

She sold it on eBay, Margot thought.

She said, “Why didn’t he ever tell you?”

“He wanted to protect me, he said! He didn’t think I needed to know, he said! He knew it was a mistake the second he asked Crissy, he said! He only proposed because she was nagging him, and so he asked her to get her to stop.”

Oh, dear, thought Margot.

“I’m sure he did want to protect you,” Margot said. “As someone who knows you nearly better than anyone else, I can say that you are a hard person to give bad news. You’re an idealist; you believe in the goodness of your fellow man beyond the point where the rest of us would have given up. Of course he didn’t want to tell you. Stuart has done nothing over the course of your entire relationship except try to make you happy. He bought a hybrid for you! He registered Democrat for you! Honey, trust me, this isn’t a deal breaker.”