“Sheep Meadow.” Dean answers my question.
“What about the area with the boats? Gwen told me she went on a date with Caleb there.”
“Loeb’s Boathouse.”
“Oh! Oh!” I bounce in my seat and clap my hands with excitement. “The fountain fromFriends? How about that one?”
He heaves a sigh. “How about you stop asking so many questions and use the map on your phone?”
“How aboutyoustop being such a jerk?” I grip the door handle, so I don’t throttle him.
Caleb overhears that last part. He glances over his shoulder and says, “Children, children. No fighting. Don’t make me pull over the car.”
Marjorie tells him, “This is why I only had one kid.”
They laugh, the sound surprisingly amicable.
That shuts us up. Dean stares sullenly out his window, and I go back to looking out of mine for the rest of the trip.
We have a private room in the back of Tavern on the Green, the famous restaurant located in Central Park. We enter through a rear door, with Dean sweeping ahead like he’s a Secret Service agent and Caleb’s the president.
Garlands made of pine and colorful ornaments line the walls close to the ceiling. Holiday music plays overheard, an instrumental version of “Winter Wonderland.” A server arrives and takes our order. Within minutes, he’s back with drinks. Mine is an eggnog latte.
I marvel over how two years ago I had sat with Gwen sipping eggnog while she complained about how her family had abandoned her for Christmas. Little did we know that the same night an unexpected intruder, Caleb, would come into the house and she would knock him unconscious with a wrench. The memory stirs a soft laugh, which makes Dean glance sharply at me.
He frowns, cocks his head, and wrinkles his brow with a silent,what?
I glare back, trying to broadcast,none of your business.
Behind him, the curtained windows reveal the stark winter beauty of Central Park. The trees are bare, and the ponds are a glassy blue-gray, reflecting the cloudy sky above them.
Soon, our food is served. As I eat my grilled chicken sandwich, I listen to Caleb and his mom as they go over the guest list for the third time. Marjorie wants to add some old neighbors, but Caleb refuses. Gwen told methey’re trying to keep the wedding to less than 100 people, only family and close friends like me.
Dean’s silent, methodically chewing his salad, because of course he only eats healthy food. No candy for him. Must be how he maintains that Adonis physique. He acts like he’s not listening to the conversation, but I don’t buy it. He’s way too observant for that.
“Please, Mom,” Caleb says with a trace of impatience. “No more. We’re done sending out invitations.”
“Fine,” Marjorie says, the word sharp with disappointment. There’s a beat of silence, then she turns to me. “Jenny, do you want to start the interview? I have an appointment at 3:00.”
“Sure. No problem.” I reach for my bag, which I’d hung on the back of my chair. My brain is already humming with questions. This is the first chance I’ve had to question Marjorie. I’m curious about Caleb’s early career. Since he started acting when he was five, he doesn’t remember any of that time, but his mom will. After I’ve opened my laptop and selected a blank document, I place my phone on the table and press the record button.
“I’d like to discuss Caleb’s younger years before he became famous. It’s been covered before, but not in great depth.” I angle my seat toward Marjorie. “Can you tell me a little about the city you’re from? The one where Caleb was born?”
She takes the napkin from her lap and places it on the table, next to our dirty plates and the red spotted poinsettia centerpiece. “Marion. It’s a small town in southern Illinois. Less than 20,000 people live there, nice folk, but I never quite fit it. I was always looking for a way out. I would spend weekends in the old theater downtown, watching movies up on that giant screen. Everything seemed so glamorous in Hollywood, like nothing bad could happen there. No girls got bullied for having their nose stuck in a book or for being too plain, too smart, too awkward.”
She pauses, her eyes unfocused, remembering a past only she knows.
“I wanted to go away for college, but my father wouldn’t hear about it. He said it was too dangerous. A girl like me off on her own. Who knew what could happen? Someone might take advantage.” Her shoulders hunch, folding in. “After high school, I took a job at a hotel. I was the late-night front-deskclerk. It suited me. I liked that it was quiet in the evening, which gave me time to read.”
Her eyes sharpen, and she looks at Caleb. “One hot summer night when the cicadas were so loud I thought I might lose my mind, your father walked in.” She smiles at the memory. “He was in insurance and had to travel to Illinois once a week from St. Louis for a department meeting. He was so shy at first, quiet but always kind. It took six months for him to ask me out. The longest six months of my life. We were married six months later, the shortest six months of my life.”
Marjorie tells Caleb, “We never told you because we didn’t want you to dislike your grandparents, but they refused to come to our wedding.”
Caleb’s head jerks up at that, surprise widening his eyes. “Really?”
“They didn’t approve—well, my father didn’t, and my mother followed wherever he led.” She sighs. “He said it was a mistake to marry your dad. I was so in love I wouldn’t listen. When your dad suggested we elope, I agreed instantly.”
Caleb’s jaw drops.
