“This isn’t the moment, but can I call you later this weekto hear more about what happened to Claire? Ash told me a little, but this seemed to come out of nowhere.”
“I’d be glad to fill you in, though I don’t know much.” Would I ever dare share my theory with her? Ellen seems like a shrewd judge of character. Not at this juncture, I decide.
“Good, I’d appreciate that.” She scans the small crowd and absentmindedly touches the Hermès scarf tied loosely around her neck. “Who’s the beauty in hot pink with Nick? Is that his latest squeeze? I’ve been up in Maine since late June, with miserable Wi-Fi, so Claire and I weren’t emailing as much as usual.”
Sounds like she hasn’t heard about the engagement. And since she’s been out of the loop, it also means she might not have heard if any trouble had been brewing in Claire’s marriage.
“Yep, his latest.” I can’t bring myself to spit out the wordfiancée.
“Well, well.... I should speak to Ash and the boys. But before I do, let me offer my condolences toyou, Summer. You know of course that Claire adored you.”
“Thank you. I don’t know if adore is the right word, but I always felt such affection from her. We all did. Claire was such a giving person.”
She lifts her eyebrows. “You must know, Summer, that the connection you had with Claire was unique. Claire was not only a tiger mom, but she could also be very judgmental, a tough critic. But never about you.”
Judgmental.That’s the same word Wendy used last night.
“But if she was judgmental, why would she think well of me?” I ask. “When I met her, I didn’t exactly have it together.I was waiting tables and performing in tiny black box theaters.”
“But look at what you did for Gabe. Amanda had pulled the rug out from under him, and at first he struggled not only with being betrayed, but with coparenting a toddler. Once you entered his life, you opened your heart to Henry as much as Gabe and made a wonderful home for both of them. That meant so much to Claire. You could have been a pole dancer and she probably wouldn’t have cared.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’m not so sure about that, but I appreciate it, Ellen.”
After she hurries off, I glance around and see that there are about fifteen or so outside guests here, meaning that everyone has probably arrived. Ash is saying hello to people now, looking tired but stoic, summoning charm the way politicians do when they have to concede defeat at a podium. And Jillian is here, of course, though she seems to be keeping her distance from Ash. Is she purposely doing that to throw off suspicion?
And then suddenly the music stops, signaling it’s time for people to take their seats. I find Gabe and the two of us head to the front row with Henry, positioning him in a chair between us. As I give Henry’s hand an affectionate squeeze, he leans his head against my arm, almost breaking my heart.Dear Claire, I think,you didn’t have to be grateful to me. Henry’s been so easy to love.
A hush falls over the crowd as Blake walks to the front of the seating area. Behind him, lush cumulous clouds chase one another across the sky. He welcomes everyone, his voice breaking once or twice as he speaks, and introduces Claire’sfriend and meditation instructor, who will start things off with a spiritual reading. The reading is nice, a little woo-woo probably for Claire’s taste, but overall it sets the right tone. Next, Denton speaks about his long, wonderful partnership with Claire and quotes from emails former clients have sent, gushing about her talent. Another friend of Claire’s, one I don’t know, shares a story of Claire nursing her through a serious illness.
And then finally it’s time for Hannah, who’s sitting with Nick across the aisle from us. As she rises, I see that she’s holding an index card in one of her perfectly manicured hands, with nails painted to match her top. She strides the short distance to the front, her butt swaying a little as she walks but her expression sober. The sight of her forces the taste of bile into my throat. How does she have the fuckingnerve?
“Good morning, I’m Hannah Kane, Nick’s fiancée, and I so appreciate the chance to speak today,” she says with a restrained but confident smile. “Sadly, I knew Claire for only a very short while, but the hours we spent together were some of the most wonderful ones in my life. I felt an instant connection to her, especially on our tour of her magnificent gardens.”
I have to fight off the urge to dry heave.
“I realize,” Hannah continues, “that it would be silly of me to share impressions of Claire with people who knew her so much better than me, so I decided instead to read a poem that I know was one of her favorites.
“It’s called ‘Why I Wake Early’ by Mary Oliver.”
17
You’ve GOT to be kidding me. I sit there, stunned, as the words spill from her lips, the poemIwas going to read. It can’t be a fluke. No, no, she’s very clearly done this on purpose.
My fury is quickly overtaken by panic. What the hell am I supposed to do? We hardly covered this kind of situation in the year’s worth of improv workshops I did.
Think,think. The poem’s short and she’s almost finished. I sense Gabe eyeing me, and when I turn to him, I see surprise on his face. But it’s not indignant surprise. He flips over both hands, palms up, as if to say,Yikes, what a lousy coincidence. What are you going to do?
My hands are trembling in my lap, and I raise a finger as discreetly as I can to indicateI’ve got this. I sure as helldon’thave it, but somehow I’m going to have to. I’m a damn actress, right?
Hannah has finished and bows her head slightly in thanks. She lingers at the front for a moment, as if expecting a round of applause, before striding back to her seat.
As I rise from my own, my mind grasps desperately for memories. Claire and Gabe. Claire and me. Claire and her gardens.Impromptu can work, I tell myself,as long as it’s sincere.
Reaching the front, I turn, face forward, and pause. Though there are fewer than thirty or so people, it feels like an ocean of faces. I take a breath from as deep in my diaphragm as I can manage and slowly exhale.
“Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to speak today,” I say, still rooting around for words. “I was so lucky to have Claire as my mother-in-law for the past four years, and knowing her was one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. She not only was a terrific mother to my husband, Gabe, and a fantastic grandmother to my stepson, Henry... but she also brought such joy into my own life. She taught me how to grow basil all winter long on my kitchen counter, and to set the kind of table people love to linger at... and, um, how to make a divine pasta sauce when all you have are lemons and cream.”
The faces in the group are kind and receptive, but I have no freaking idea where I’m going next, and the back of my dress is all sweaty now, as if Henry’s doused me with his Super Soaker. Suddenly, though, a memory snags in my mind.
