Beautiful Day (43 page)

Margot had thought Drew might have concerns about Griff’s abrupt departure from the
Masterson Group. Griff had been adamant in only saying it was for “personal reasons.”
He didn’t want Drew or anyone at Tricom to know about his wife’s affair or the baby.
Margot had been prepared to explain the situation to
Drew sotto voce if the issue arose. But Drew had been content with “personal reasons.”

However, in the final phone call, the one where Margot suspected Drew would be offering
the job to Griff, Drew said, “I do have some concerns that maybe this guy lacks gravitas.
The golfing, the partying. Maybe the frat boy in him is a bit too pronounced.”

Margot had been shocked by this statement. Drew Carver, like Harry Fry, was known
to love the golfers, the partiers, the fraternity presidents, the captains of the
hockey team. Drew Carver was giving Margot an opening. She could slip right through
to the dark side undetected.

“Well, I wasn’t going to mention this before,” Margot said. “But now that you bring
it up…”

“Yes?” Drew said.

“In his original résumé, he listed that he had been voted homecoming king at Maryland.
And I thought the same thing, Drew. I thought, What kind of person lists that as an
achievement
on a professional résumé twenty years after the fact? I told him to strike it, and
he did, but the fact that he chose to list it initially shows questionable judgment,
I think. I mean, really,
homecoming king?
”

“Oh,” Drew said. There was a long pause, then he said, “Yes. Thank you for letting
me know.”

And with those words, Margot knew that Griff was out and Seth was, most likely, in.
She could call Edge that very night and tell him that she’d worked her magic. She
had single-handedly landed Seth LeBreux a job he didn’t deserve.

“You were the better candidate,” Margot said. “And I stole that job from you.”

“You did,” Griff said. “You
did.
God, I can’t believe it.”

“I did,” Margot said. “Professionally, it was abominable. I hate myself for it.”

Griff tented his hands and bowed his head. “Jesus,” he said. A string of seconds passed,
then he said, “And you did it for some
guy?
Some guy you thought you were falling in love with?”

“Yes,” Margot whispered.

“You know what that makes you?” he asked.

“A tool,” she said. “It makes me a tool.”

Griff stood up and stared at the brick facade of the Pacific National Bank. Nantucket
was an old place; no doubt endless dramas had taken place on Main Street, countless
treacheries, and here was one more. What Margot had done was monumentally bad. Bad,
bad, bad.

“I liked you,” Griff said. “I wanted to be impressive and win that job for
you.
And then, when I got signed off and you weren’t the one who did it, I was
relieved.
Because I didn’t want to have to see you after I’d been cut.”

“I didn’t do the signing off because I couldn’t face you,” Margot said. She had made
Bev do the signing off for Griff, and Bev hadn’t wanted to do it, either. She had
been incredulous that Tricom passed over Griff. She kept saying,
It just doesn’t make sense.

“So the other guy got hired, then?” Griff said.

“No, actually,” Margot said. “They hired Nanette Kim. She lasted six weeks, then declared
that Tricom was a hostile workplace for women and minorities. I tried to come back
to you—I did, Griff—but you had already signed with Blankstar.”

Griff nodded. “Nice,” he said. He turned and started walking down the street. “I’ll
see you around, Margot.”

Margot squeezed her hands together and watched his figure recede down the street.
She was dying to follow him; she was
scrambling for the words that would make him forgive her. But those words didn’t exist.
He had made one small tactical error—he had given Margot something to ridicule—and
Margot had turned it into a deal breaker to advance her own romantic agenda.

If Griff wanted to, he could call Miller-Sawtooth and speak to Harry Fry and relay
the details of their conversation. Margot wouldn’t get fired, but she might get disciplined.
She almost
wanted
Griff to call, she wanted to be punished, she wanted him to get even—but she knew
he wouldn’t. He was too good a guy. And he had just done the exact thing she’d feared
and walked out of her life, which felt like punishment enough.

Margot rose from the bench. Her feet, in her dyed-to-match pumps, were aching, and
she slid the shoes off. Some nights had good karma and some nights were cursed, and
this night had been cursed from the beginning.

The whole weekend had been cursed. Margot, with her perfect instincts, had been right
to dread it.

As she turned the corner onto Orange Street, she saw a figure walking toward her—a
man, alone, and she filled with dread. Not possible. But yes.

He called out, “Margot?”

She knew she should walk past him, but he stopped, and instinctively she did, too.

“Have you seen Rosalie?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“Your father kicked us out of the wedding,” Edge said. “Rosalie was mortified. She
doesn’t get it, and I can’t explain it to her. She thinks Doug kicked us out because
he doesn’t approve of her and me.”

“Oh,” Margot said. She was close enough to Edge to smell him. He was wearing Aventus;
she would know the scent
anywhere. Margot couldn’t believe it. He was wearing the scent she’d bought for him—finally!—but
he was wearing it for Rosalie. Edge was a cheese rat, but Margot was too worn out
to fight with him. “Why don’t you just tell Rosalie the truth?” she said. “Tell her
about me.”

“I can’t,” he said. “She’ll leave me. Of course, after tonight, she might leave me
anyway.” He gave Margot a weak smile, and Margot was surprised that he didn’t seem
more concerned, but that was how Edge was with women—easy come, easy go. If Rosalie
left, he would meet someone else, perhaps someone even younger and more inappropriate,
whom he would marry and then divorce. Margot was fortunate to have escaped getting
in any deeper. In her head she knew this, and she wondered if someday her heart might
follow.

“See you, Edge,” she said. She leaned in and gave John Edgar Desvesnes III, her fifty-nine-year-old
sometime lover, a kiss good-bye, which really was exactly that, and then she walked
barefoot up the street toward home.

H
e found Pauline lying in bed reading the Notebook. She was still in the cinnamon-colored
dress, although she’d kicked off her shoes. She was on top of the covers on Doug’s
side of the bed, and she was crying.

Doug had noticed Pauline missing after the throwing of the bouquet, but at that point,
the traditional portion of the festivities was winding down, and many of Doug’s friends
and Beth’s cousins were leaving, and Doug had to put in face time to say good-bye
and remind everyone about the brunch in the morning. The band was still playing—Etta
James’s “At Last,” and Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together.” These songs were thorns in
Doug’s side. He couldn’t very well dance to them with Pauline, and yet he most certainly
owed Pauline a dance. He hadn’t danced with her once all night.

Pauline was no longer at the table, nor elsewhere in the tent that he could see. He
nearly asked Rhonda if she had seen Pauline, but he didn’t want to call attention
to the fact that he had
lost track of her once again. Roger and his crew were transitioning from the traditional
wedding to the after-party. The lead singer of the band was staying on to play an
acoustic set. The after-party was really for the young people, and so Doug figured
it was okay for him to leave the cleanup to Roger and the caterers and go in search
of Pauline.

He had expected to find her in bed. He had
not
expected her to be reading the Notebook.

“Really?” he said.

“What does it matter now?” she said. “The wedding is over.”

Well, yes, that was true, the wedding was over—Doug acknowledged this with equal parts
relief and melancholy. He found himself hoping that Nick did end up getting married
someday, because there was nothing Doug relished as much as having his family together,
despite all the attendant malarkey.

To Pauline, he said, “Right, the wedding is over. Why again with the Notebook?”

“ ‘Your father will be a cause for concern,’ ” Pauline read.

Doug put a hand up. “Pauline, stop.”

“ ‘Even if your father has Another Wife, I want you to do those things. Do them for
me, please.’ ”

“Pauline.” Doug wondered if she had read the last page of the Notebook. He was tempted
to ask her to hand it over so that he could read it himself, but he sensed this was
exactly the wrong time.

Pauline was gazing at him with tears streaming down her face. “How is this supposed
to make me feel?”

“It isn’t supposed to make you feel
any
way,” he said. “It wasn’t
meant
for you. It was meant for Jenna.”

“It was like Beth knew that whoever came along after her wasn’t going to be good enough.”
Pauline turned the page of the
Notebook so violently that Doug feared she might rip it. “Wasn’t going to be as good
as she was.”

“Pauline.”

“I just want you to admit it, Douglas,” Pauline said. “You don’t love me as much as
you loved her, and you never will.”

“I wasn’t looking to replace Beth,” Doug said. “That was never my intention.”

“What
was
your intention, then?” Pauline asked. “A little sex? A little fun? We took
vows,
Douglas, just like Jenna and Stuart did today. We pledged the same things they did,
in sickness and in health, until death do us part. I meant those vows, but you didn’t.
You just went through the motions—but why? Why did you marry me? We should have just
continued dating if you didn’t want to give this relationship the same time and energy
that you gave your first marriage.” Pauline set the Notebook down and sat up in bed.
“That was what crystallized for me while we were sitting in that church. You never
treated our marriage the way you treated your marriage to Beth. Beth was your real
and true love; I was just someone you met afterwards. I was a coda, an afterthought,
a person on your arm, a warm body in the bed so you didn’t have to sleep alone.”

Doug sighed. He could hear voices outside, Jenna’s voice above all the others, asking
everyone to gather around the campfire.

Before Doug had walked Jenna down the aisle, she said, “I love him so much, Daddy.
I never want to be away from him. You know that song that Mom liked with the line
‘If I could choose a place to die, it would be in your arms’?”

“ ‘Bell Bottom Blues,’ ” Doug said. “Derek and the Dominos.”

“Well, that’s how I feel about Stuart.”

Doug nodded. Jenna was the only one of the kids who had
inherited Beth’s appreciation of the rock anthem. “Good. That’s the way you’re supposed
to feel, honey.”

But that wasn’t how Doug felt about Pauline—now, or ever.

“You’re right,” he said to Pauline. “The things you say are all at least partially
correct. I felt so strongly about Beth that it wasn’t fair of me to marry you or anyone
else. And I’m sorry for that.”

“Sorry?” Pauline said. “You’re
sorry?
”

“It wasn’t fair to you,” Doug said.

“You’re
damn right
it wasn’t fair,” Pauline said. “I married you because I was in love with you. I married
you because I wanted to be in a good relationship, one that succeeded. You, more than
anyone,
knew
how I needed that. You knew what I endured with Arthur, you knew I deserved better,
and you promised to deliver.”

Doug said, “I promised to do the best that I could. I promised I would give you everything
I was able. I’m sorry if it isn’t enough.”

“
Damn right
it isn’t enough,” Pauline said. “It isn’t even
close
to enough. I want a divorce.”

“What?” Doug said.

“I want a divorce,” Pauline said.

“Oh,” Doug said. He thought,
What is happening here?
Was it what he
thought
was happening, or was it some kind of confusing trap? He stood very still, afraid
to move an inch or whisper a word. He didn’t have to be the bad guy? Pauline had read
his mind and done exactly as he wished? She had asked for a divorce? Was it really
going to be this easy? “All right. We can start the process when we get home, then.”

He heard Pauline sob, but he turned and left the room before she could speak. He didn’t
want her to take it back. He didn’t want her to give him one last chance.

Outside, the fire raged. Roger had done a beautiful job building a fire pit, and people
sat in a circle in beach chairs and on blankets. Jenna and Stuart had changed out
of their wedding clothes into matching T-shirts that said
Just Married.
Rhonda was still in her bridesmaid dress; she was talking to Ryan and his boyfriend.
Autumn was cozied up with the other twin brother on a blanket, and Finn was nestled
in Nick’s lap in the scoop of a Sleepy Hollow chair. Doug stared at Finn and Nick,
wondering what exactly he was seeing. If Doug wasn’t mistaken, he and Pauline had
attended Finn’s wedding in October. Had something happened between Finn and Scott
already?
It seemed like just yesterday that Bud Sullivan was joking about how relieved he
was to get Finn off his payroll. Scott Walker wasn’t here, Doug had realized that,
but he thought that was because Scott had a commitment elsewhere. Doug couldn’t tell
if Nick and Finn were actually canoodling or only horsing around. He hoped for the
latter. When he’d thought earlier that he wanted Nick to get married, he had not been
thinking of Finn. No, that would never work. Doug had thirty-five years of professional
experience telling him that.