Elin Hilderbrand - Beautiful Day

Ann was so relieved, she nearly levitated. She stepped forward and offered her hand. “I’m Ann Graham,” she said. “Lovely to meet you.”

Chance said, “I kind of just ate breakfast. Eggs and everything.”

“But sweetie,” Helen said, “I told you I’d be here at nine to pick you up.”

“I know,” Chance said. “But I think I just want to hang here with everyone else.”

Helen opened her mouth to speak just as Autumn stepped out of the kitchen. H.W. ’s shirt, Ann saw now, barely covered the girl’s tiny behind, and whereas ten minutes ago this might have bothered Ann, now that Autumn was displaying herself to Helen’s old friend Skip Lafferty, whose eyes were popping out of his head, Ann wanted to break out in peals of delighted laughter.

Jim wasn’t with Helen. Of course he wasn’t! Ann felt happily like an idiot.

Autumn said, “Oops, excuse me.” She winked at Skip Lafferty before scurrying up the stairs.

Chance said, “I’m not hungry. I want to stay here.”

“Honeybun,” Helen said. “Skip is eager to show us around. He has a restaurant picked out that serves the best corned beef hash.”

“But I already ate,” Chance said.

Ryan piped up. “Mom came over a little while ago, Helen, and made us all breakfast.”

Jethro appeared from the kitchen with a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He said, “Those were the best eggs I’ve ever eaten.”

Ann said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize Chance already had breakfast plans.”

Helen wrinkled her nose, maybe because her senses were assaulted by the beer-and-cigarette miasma of the house, or maybe because the circumstances were so distasteful to her. Ann, of all people, had made Chance breakfast. “Well, he did and he does, and he’s going to honor them. Chance, go put clothes on, please.”

“Sorry, Mama,” Chance said. “I’m not going.”

There was an awkward silence in the room that was so refreshing, Ann could have swum around in it for hours.

Skip Lafferty said, “It’s okay, Helen. We can just go into town together, you and me.”

Helen put her hands on her hips. “Chancey,” she said.

“I’m nineteen, Mama,” he said. “Not nine.”

Helen kept her stance for another couple of seconds. H.W. burped. Ann watched Helen debate whether or not to persist with the tough-guy approach, or beg, or give up. Helen had always worn her emotions right on her face. There had been a time, after Jim had left Helen to come back to Ann, when Helen had shown up out of the blue at Ann’s office at the statehouse. She had Chance with her; he was three years old, a towhead with skin so pale it looked nearly albino. That was the first time Ann had ever seen Chance in person.

Helen had been a mess-crying, trying not to cry, screeching, beseeching. “Please,” she’d said. “My child is younger. I need Jim more than y’all do.”

Ann had seen and recognized the particular brand of pain Helen was feeling; she knew only too well what it felt like to be left by Jim Graham for another woman.

“I don’t need him, Helen,” Ann had said. “I just love him.”

Now, Helen capitulated. She said, “Fine, then, stay.” Her voice sounded like that of a jilted lover, or maybe that was just Ann projecting. “I’ll see y’all later, at the ceremony.”

If there is a ceremony, Ann thought.

Helen took Skip Lafferty’s arm and turned to go, without a good-bye to anyone.

Just then, the front door opened. Margot Carmichael stepped into the living room. Her cheeks were pink, and her forehead was shiny with perspiration.

“Hey,” she said. “Has anyone seen Jenna?”

Something old-my wedding dress???

Something new-If you wear my dress, everything else should be new. New veil (elbow length?), white satin heels (I wore a kitten heel, but I ended up kicking them off for the dancing, anyway, which the people at the Pierre frowned upon, but I was having too much fun to care), new lacy underthings, new clutch cocktail purse.

Something borrowed-Margot’s makeup. She buys the good stuff. You might even let her do it for you; remember how she worked wonders with the green eye shadow.

Something blue-The sapphire earrings that Grammie wore the day she was married to Pop-Pop. Daddy is keeping them for you in a safe-deposit box at the bank.

She was determined to do this by herself. She would find Jenna, she would save the wedding.

She left the children with Beanie, saying she had to run some errands. Kevin, who was reading the Times at the kitchen table, huffed.

“Why can’t your kids go with you?” he said.

“Because,” Margot said. “They can’t.”

“It’s not a problem for us to watch them,” Beanie said. “They’re all happier when they’re together anyway.”

Kevin arched his eyebrows. Margot could hear his thoughts: Margot is outsourcing her children again.

He said, “What errands?”

“I need to pay my cocaine dealer,” Margot said.

He said, “You might try and get Ellie out of her bathing suit before you go.”

“Fuck you, Kevin.”

“Nice,” Kevin said.

“What do you care what Ellie wears?” Margot said. “She’s not your child.”

“She’s a girl,” Beanie said. “Girls are different. Kevin doesn’t understand that.”

Kevin eyed Beanie over the top of his newspaper. “I don’t understand that girls are different?”

“You’re trying to make me feel like a bad mother,” Margot said. “You’re being passive-aggressive.”

Kevin said, “Along with apparently not understanding that girls are ‘different,’ I have also never understood that term. ‘Passive-aggressive.’ What does that actually mean?”

“It means you’re a jackass,” Margot said. She hated acting this way; being around Kevin and Nick made her revert to twelve-year-old behavior.

Beanie pretended to search for something in the refrigerator. Margot needed to ask Kevin or Beanie for one of their cell phones-she couldn’t go on this quest without a phone-but she was so pissed at Kevin that she wasn’t willing to ask him for anything else.

“I won’t be gone long,” Margot said to Beanie, hoping this was true.

She left the house by the side door. Thank God for Kevin! she thought angrily. But she was glad to have avoided her father and Pauline, and Nick and Finn. Suddenly everyone was a land mine.

Margot had read all the Nancy Drew mysteries as a girl; she had waited thirty years to do some sleuthing of her own. How had Jenna traveled? All the cars were present and accounted for. Had Jenna gone by foot? If so, the only logical place to look for her was in town. She might be browsing in the stacks at Mitchell’s Book Corner, or maybe she’d bought a strawberry frappe at the pharmacy and was sitting on a bench on Main Street, counting the number of Lilly Pulitzer skirts that passed her by.

Bicycle? Margot wondered. And sure enough, when she checked the shed, the padlock was hanging loose, and the door was ajar. The bikes in the shed were the bikes of their childhood, Schwinns circa 1983, all rusted and, Margot had assumed, unrideable.

But Jenna had taken a bicycle somewhere.

Where?

Well, if Jenna was dead set on canceling the wedding, there was one person she would have to talk to.

As Margot was unlocking her Land Rover, Rhonda popped out of the house with white earbuds in.

“Hey, Rhonda,” Margot said.

Rhonda removed her left earbud, and Margot could hear the tinny screeching of Rihanna. “I’m going running!” she said, too loudly.

“Is there any way I could borrow your phone for an hour?” Margot asked. “I sunk mine on Thursday night, it’s useless, and I really need a phone this morning.” She swallowed. “Secret wedding mission.”

Rhonda’s face was uneasy as she regarded her phone. “I can’t really run without music. And Raymond is supposed to call…”

“Oh,” Margot said. “Okay, no problem.” She looked at the house and sighed. She would have to go back in and ask Beanie.

Rhonda said, “Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what?” Margot said.

“You know like what,” Rhonda said. She shoved her phone at Margot. “Just take it.”

“No, no,” Margot said. When she looked down at the phone, she saw that the screensaver was a picture of Rhonda and Pauline taken the night before at the Nantucket Yacht Club. They were standing in front of the giant anchor with their arms wrapped around each other. Pauline, in her blue suit, looked like Gertie Gloom, but Rhonda was smiling wide enough for the two of them, perhaps realizing that it was up to her to put forward a good face on behalf of the Tonellis. “It’s okay, Rhonda. I’ll ask someone else.”

“You asked me,” Rhonda said. “Just take it.”

Margot couldn’t tell if Rhonda was being passive-aggressive (whatever that meant) or genuine. Margot didn’t really have time for games or mind reading, so she accepted the phone.

“Thank you for this,” she said. “I’ll bring it back as soon as I’m done.”

“Whenever,” Rhonda said, shrugging. “Glad I could help.”

Margot considered asking Rhonda to come with her. This would then become the story of a woman and the stepsister she had never appreciated and was about to lose, as they hunted down the runaway bride.

But no, Margot wanted to do this herself.

“Thanks again,” Margot said.

“Good luck,” Rhonda said.

Margot turned the key in the ignition. The radio was playing Elvis Costello, “Alison,” and Margot thought about Griff the night before at the bar and how he had so easily identified her favorite lyrics in the other song, and she wondered what it would be like to be with someone who actually wanted to understand her, then she wondered if anyone would ever kiss her again the way Griff had kissed her, and she knew the answer was no. She was doomed to have experienced the very best kissing of her life with someone she would never kiss again.