She heard Thatcher say, “You must be…”
Adrienne slowly turned around to see her father and Mavis standing by the podium. Dr. Don was a good six foot two, and he looked tan and handsome. He’d lost weight and he was wearing new clothes-a lizard green silk shirt and a linen blazer. Adrienne was suddenly overwhelmed with love for him. It was a love that had lasted twenty-eight years and had solely sustained her for the last sixteen. It was a love that was the ruling order of her life; she was able to exist only because this man loved her.
“Dad,” she said.
He hugged her tight and kissed the top of her head, rocking her back and forth. “Oh, honey,” he said. Adrienne hid her face in the soft material of his shirt. “I forget just how much I miss you.” He held her apart. “Smile.”
She had brushed and flossed when she first got to work because she knew he would ask. He always did. She smiled, but when she smiled she felt like she might cry. She took a deep breath and regarded Mavis, who was beaming at her. No, this was not her mother, but Mavis was, at least, familiar. She had the same haircut, the same frosted coral lipstick, the same minty smell as Adrienne kissed the side of her mouth. She wore a red dress with gold buttons-that was new.
“Mavis, hi.”
“Hi, doll.” The same vaguely annoying nickname: doll. Mavis called everyone by diminutives: doll, baby doll, sweetie, sugar, honey pie. Except for Adrienne’s father whom she called “the doctor,” when she was speaking about him, and “Donald,” when she was speaking to him.
Adrienne felt a light hand on her lower back and she remembered Thatcher. Thatcher, the restaurant, her job.
“Daddy, Mavis, this is Thatcher Smith, owner of the Blue Bistro. Thatcher, my father, Don Dealey, and Mavis Laroux.”
“We just met,” Thatcher said. He glanced from Adrienne to Don and back again. “I wish I could say I saw a family resemblance.”
Don laughed. “Adrienne looks like my late wife,” he said. He turned to Mavis. “Doesn’t she?”
Mavis nodded solemnly. “Spitting image.”
Adrienne plucked two menus from the podium. “Okay, well,” she said. “Since you’re here, you might as well sit. Follow me.” She walked through the dining room to table twenty, wobbling a little in her heels. Something felt off. She tried to think: Her father was definitely at table twenty. She would seat him, give him a menu, and have Spillman get him a drink. Thatcher would put in the VIP order. Fine. The restaurant was sparkling and elegant. Rex played “What a Wonderful World.”
“This place is not to be believed,” Mavis said. “And our hotel room! Adrienne, doll, you are a marvel. It’s the nicest room I have ever stayed in.”
“Good,” Adrienne said. “I’m glad you like it.”
“We don’t like it,” Don said. “We love it.” He pulled a chair out for Mavis, then he sat. Adrienne stood behind them with the menus. Something still was not right; she felt artificial, like she was playacting. But no-this was her job. She was the assistant manager of this restaurant and had been for two months.
When she handed Mavis a menu, she saw the ring. One emerald-cut diamond on a gold band. Immediately, Adrienne thought: Mavis is engaged. And then she nearly cried out. She closed her eyes. Okay, she thought. It’s okay. She pictured her mother’s face-one eyebrow raised suspiciously, the face Adrienne got when she had asked for permission to wear eye shadow. When Adrienne opened her eyes, her vision was splotchy and she was glad she hadn’t eaten anything because suddenly it felt like someone was holding her upside down under water. She wavered a little and her father took her by the wrist.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“Sorry,” Adrienne said. In her peripheral vision, she saw Spillman approaching. “I haven’t eaten anything all day.”
“Good evening,” Spillman said. “You’re Adrienne’s parents?”
Dr. Don stood up to shake Spillman’s hand while Mavis smiled at her Limoges charger. Adrienne had lost language. This is my father and his friend Mavis. His hygienist, Mavis. His fiancée, Mavis.
“We’ll have champagne,” Adrienne heard her father say. “You’ll sit and have a glass with us, Ade?”
“Actually… no,” she said. They wanted to tell her. They had come all the way to Nantucket to tell her in person. Meanwhile, Adrienne wished her father had simply sent an e-mail. That way she could have digested the news privately. But no-they were going to make her sit through it here, in front of them, while she was supposed to be working. She turned around-there was a cluster of people at the podium. “I have to go,” she said. “Because remember, Dad, I told you…”
Dr. Don smiled and shooed her off. “Go. I want to watch you.”
Suddenly it was like Adrienne was twelve years old again, in the school play. Peppermint Patty in You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown. Adrienne’s mother had been in the hospital so Dr. Don came to the play with-yes-Mavis. As if to make up for Rosalie’s absence, the two of them had paid extra close attention. After the play was over, they commented on Adrienne’s every gesture; they remembered each of her eight stiff lines.
Act natural, Adrienne had thought then, and now. Leigh Stanford and her husband were in with friends from Guam-where did they find these far-flung friends?-and Thatcher’s hairdresser, Pam, was in with a date. Adrienne sat a party of six women, then a couple celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. When Adrienne glanced over at her father and Mavis, they were sipping Laurent-Perrier, studying their menus. Her father caught her eye and waved. Adrienne went to the bar and reclaimed her second glass of champagne.
Charlie, Duncan’s friend, owner of the gold marijuana leaf necklace, was seated at the bar drinking a Whale’s Tale Ale. He gave Adrienne the up-down, as he did every time he came in. It was one of a dozen things about the man that made Adrienne shiver with dislike. He smelled like very strong soap.
“This is her roommate?” Charlie asked Duncan.
“Yes,” Duncan said. He smirked at Adrienne. “I was just telling Charlie about the stunt Caren pulled.”
“It’s not a stunt,” Adrienne said. “She went to a concert.”
“With another guy,” Charlie said.
“A friend of hers,” Adrienne said. She glanced back over her shoulder at her father. He waved. Scene where Adrienne defends her roommate’s decision to share a hotel room with another man. “You have women in here every night throwing themselves at you. You hardly have a right to get angry.”
“I’m not angry,” Duncan said. “But I’m on to her.”
“What’s the guy’s name again?” Charlie asked.
“Tate something,” Duncan said.
“Tate,” Charlie said. “Goddamned prep school name if I ever heard one.”
“What I don’t understand,” Duncan said, “is why they’re sharing a room. If he’s so rich and well-connected, he should be able to afford two rooms.”
“He didn’t want two rooms,” Charlie said. “He wants to be in the same room with your bitch.”
Adrienne glanced at Duncan to see how he would react to Caren’s being so designated, and Duncan looked at her, possibly for the same reason. Adrienne shrugged.
“You eating tonight?” she asked Charlie.
“I need a menu.”
“Do you want something other than the steak?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Why don’t you bring me a menu?”
Duncan pulled a menu out from behind the bar. Charlie pretended to study it, his brow wrinkled and threatening.
Joe set a highball glass on the bar. “The woman who ordered this asked for Finlandia on the rocks.”
“That is Finlandia,” Duncan said.