Elin Hilderbrand - Here’s to Us

“I used to ask Deacon periodically if she had anyone special in her life,” Laurel said. “He told me she was too busy to date.”

“Deacon and I talked about it when I saw him in New York last fall. I said I was worried; he told me to relax.” Belinda buried her face in her wine. “That was the last time I saw Deacon-in September. How about you?”

“I saw him all the time,” Laurel said. “Hayes and I went to the restaurant for dinner on Easter. Then I talked to him about two weeks before he died, right after he stopped drinking…”

“He stopped drinking?” Belinda said. “Deacon?”

Laurel nodded, but she wouldn’t elaborate. Belinda didn’t need to hear about the stripper and the Saab. “And then he sent me a birthday card May second.”

“He sent you a birthday card?’ Belinda said. “In seventeen years, I don’t think the man once remembered my birthday. September thirtieth. Forgettable, I guess.”

“Deacon and I were friends,” Laurel said.

“That’s because you never remarried,” Belinda said. “Bob wouldn’t have tolerated me being friends with Deacon.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I know so,” Belinda said. “Bob is a very jealous man.”

“I’m sure he is,” Laurel said. She looked toward the front door. “Buck has been gone for a while. Do you think he drowned?” She tried to keep her voice light and casual, but she was having some pretty overwhelming feelings about Buck since the almost-kiss on the deck. Every time Laurel thought about it, she felt light-headed and giddy.

“He’s probably just avoiding me,” Belinda said.

“Avoiding you why?”

“We had a little run-in this afternoon,” Belinda said. She waved a hand. “It was nothing. Already forgotten.”

“This afternoon?” Laurel said. “While I was in town?”

“Yes,” Belinda said. “But, like I said, it was nothing. I’m sure he’s embarrassed.”

Laurel’s stomach muscles tightened. She didn’t like the expression on Belinda’s face. “Why would he be embarrassed?”

“Well…,” Belinda said. She leaned forward, as if in confidence, but the screen door slammed shut, and two seconds later, Buck walked into the kitchen, dripping wet and trailing in sand.

“Hey, we were just talking about you,” Laurel said. She grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and opened it for him. “How was the swim?”

“Much needed,” Buck said. “Thank you.” He took a healthy chug of the beer. “Listen, I’m going to need to talk to you two at some point about some legal matters.”

“Belinda was just about to tell me about the run-in you two had this afternoon,” Laurel said.

Buck’s mouth dropped open. He looked at Belinda. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. He collapsed in one of the stools at the counter. “You’re both aware, I assume, that Deacon had financial troubles?”

Laurel nodded, although this came as news to her.

“I wish Scarlett were here,” Buck said.

“I don’t,” Belinda said.

“Well, like it or not, she was Deacon’s wife, so this concerns her, too,” Buck said.

“She’s unstable,” Belinda said. “And impulsive. If Deacon was having financial troubles, it was because Scarlett is a spendthrift.”

Laurel felt her grip on her civility slipping. “Scarlett isn’t here to defend herself. And how would you know about Scarlett’s spending habits?”

“Have you forgotten?” Belinda said. “She was my nanny. I used to send her to Gristedes with a hundred-dollar bill to buy milk, and she would come home with pennies.”

At that second, Angie walked into the kitchen. She tapped Belinda on the shoulder. “I heard you from upstairs,” she said. “You think I’m making up the fact that I have a boyfriend?”

“Darling,” Belinda said.

“You think I’m, what… a child with an imaginary friend?” Angie said.

“Well, you did have January,” Belinda said. “January was around for years.”

January, Laurel thought. She had forgotten all about it, but now she vividly recalled that Angie had invented a friend named January.

“January lasted for years because I was young!” Angie said. “And I was lonely! And you were never around!”

“Darling, please calm down,” Belinda said.

“His name is Joel Tersigni!” Angie said. “He’s the dining room manager at the restaurant.”

“Good God,” Buck said. “Please don’t tell me you’re involved with Joel. He’s married to that battle-ax who works for Wilson and Oskam.”

“Angie!” Belinda said.

“What, Mother?” Angie said. “You’ve never slept with a married man before?”

“I’m going to light the grill,” Laurel said. She raised her eyebrows at Buck. “Maybe you can fill us in on the other stuff during dinner.”

Don’t shoot the messenger.

Buck sat tight in his chair on the back deck, beer at the ready. Under the guise of helping Laurel “pull dinner together,” he had opened every cabinet in the kitchen until he found the liquor, to the bottom right of the stove: Jameson, Tanqueray Ten, Mount Gay, Jack Daniel’s, and a clear mason jar-Deacon’s moonshine, which, he knew, would take the enamel off his teeth.

He waited until everyone was settled in their chairs and Laurel had set out the platter of steaks and asparagus, the bowl of salad, the basket of bread.

“I’m sorry this is so simple,” Laurel said.

“Mom,” Hayes said; then, at an apparent loss for words, he shook his head.

Hayes was not looking good, Buck thought. And he seemed to have misplaced his razor.

Buck raised his beer. He wasn’t sure what to say. He had been raised Catholic, and he was pretty sure he alone felt a prayer was in order. They were, after all, sitting at the table where Deacon had been when his soul departed the earth. Should Buck acknowledge this? He considered himself a master of social graces-his career demanded it-but some situations had too many emotional potholes to be negotiated smoothly. He would speak as a friend first, he decided, then he would slide into agent mode.

“To Deacon,” he said. “Husband, father, friend, chef, and a man like no other. I know I speak for all of us when I say a bright light has gone out.”

“To Deacon,” Laurel said. She touched her glass to Buck’s beer.

Belinda heaped her plate with salad. Hayes took a roll, then stared at it on his plate as if it were a pterodactyl egg. Angie helped herself to steak and asparagus but didn’t pick up her utensils. Only Laurel dug in. Deacon used to say Laurel ate like a three-hundred-pound long-distance trucker.

Food is like sex for her, man, Deacon had told Buck decades earlier. She can’t get enough.

Buck blushed, remembering this. But he had to stay on point.

“So,” Buck said.

Laurel turned to him, as did Angie. Belinda stabbed some greens. Hayes stared at the roll.

“Deacon ran into some financial trouble at the end of last year that snowballed quite a bit.”

Hayes upended the contents of his wineglass into his mouth. Laurel let a soft breath escape as she watched him.

Buck said, “Let me start over.”

“The suspense is killing me,” Belinda said.

“Deacon left this house to Scarlett. And to you, Laurel. And to you, Belinda. Technically, each of you inherits a third.”

Laurel gasped. “You’re kidding!”

Even Belinda seemed taken aback. “That was very nice of him,” she said. “He certainly didn’t have to leave me anything.”

“The idea was that the three of you would then pass your share on to your child,” Buck said. “And the three of you would split time in a way that’s deemed reasonable by the executor.”

“Meaning you?” Belinda said.

“Me,” Buck confirmed.

“So, let me guess… Laurel will get the summer, Scarlett will get the spring and fall, and I’ll get February.”

“Mother, stop,” Angie said.

“Stop what, darling? I think we all know Buck is sweet on Laurel.”

“Belinda!” Laurel said.

“There’s a problem,” Buck said. “The house is buried in debt. It’s due to be repossessed by Nantucket Bank on July first if the estate doesn’t come up with the arrears.”

“How much is that?” Angie asked.

“Four hundred thirty-six thousand-”

“Good God,” Laurel said.

“Two hundred ninety-two dollars and nineteen cents.”

“I’ve got the nineteen cents,” Hayes said. He gave the table a big grin.

“That’s too bad,” Belinda said. “It really is.”

“Mother,” Angie said.

“What?”

“You can afford it,” Angie said.

“I can afford my third of the arrears,” Belinda said. “A hundred and fifty grand, give or take. But I’m not going to pay Laurel’s or Scarlett’s portion.”

“No one is asking you to!” Laurel said.

“Well, there is a sense of urgency,” Buck said. “We have less than two weeks.”

“Bob warned me that the only reason you invited me here was to ask me for something,” Belinda said. “I’m dismayed to find out he was right.”

“No one is asking you for anything,” Laurel said.

“But if we’re going to lose the house…,” Angie said.

“People lose houses all the time,” Belinda said. “Every day, all across America, people default on their mortgages.”

“You’re going to lose the house unless the arrears are paid in full,” Buck said. “Guaranteed. And there’s also a fourteen-thousand-dollar-per-month mortgage.”

“Whoa,” Hayes said.

“No one is asking you for anything,” Laurel said to Belinda. “But how typical of you to think so.” She scowled at Buck. “I can’t believe you brought this up over dinner.”

“You…” Buck nearly said, You told me to! But he sensed that any words out of his mouth would only serve to make things worse. He cut a piece of steak. “This is delicious.”

The rest of the table was silent.

He felt like a dragonfly on a pond, skimming along the surface, hovering in one spot for a second or two to drink in reality, then alighting again. Hayes stared at his roll. He had a pretty good idea of how it would taste, but he was so high, he had a difficult time focusing on what to do with it. Break it in half? Ask for the butter?