Crazy Q 4u. I was thinking of those plays we did abt 2 years ago at the Lilac Theater on West 13th St. Do u remember the name of the girl who played the cat who turned into a woman? In the last play?
By the time I return, the pasta with tomatoes and melted Brie is being served, and the volume of the conversation has gone up a decibel or two. Dusk has begun to dissolve into darkness, and fireflies dance in the yard beyond the patio, oblivious to all of us.
During this part of the meal, I chat with Gabe’s uncle,and I also have the chance to observe Hannah in action. She’s to the left of Aunt Jean, Ash’s sister, with Nick on her other side, his arm draped around her shoulder like a pashmina she’s brought along in case the weather cools.
While nodding and smiling during the conversation I’m pretending to be engaged in, I manage to hear Hannah entertaining Nick, Jean, and Wendy with a story about her first day on a film set. When she heard the term “honey wagon,” she tells them, her voice sparkling, she assumed it was where food and beverages were served, but it turned out to be the trailer with the toilets. She’s greeted with warm laughter from her listeners.
As I watch her from the corner of my eye, I’m struck by how totally unselfconscious she seems. Her hands move a little for emphasis or illustration when she’s telling a story, but she never touches her face, twirls her hair, or nibbles a cuticle, which is my go-to nervous habit. During my first years in New York, when I wasn’t chasing auditions or waiting tables, I took endless acting workshops and classes, and the best ones focused on training you to look natural and spontaneous when you performed—acting teachers call it being “unentangled.” The legendary Stanislavski—whom I didnotstudy with needless to say—stressed that actors need to learn “public solitude,” meaning that even with people watching you, you’re at ease. Hannah’s more than nailed the technique.
Discreetly, I steal a glance toward Marcus at the far end of the table, wondering how he’s handling Hannah’s presence. He seems fully absorbed in conversation with Claire and his cousin. But a few seconds later, as I’m about to askGabe’s uncle a question, Marcus shifts slightly in his seat and reaches for the breadbasket, and as he does, his gaze shifts to Hannah. He stares hard at her, seemingly unable to look away.
Has he misled Keira, I wonder, allowing her to believe he was never serious about Hannah? Maybe he’d been as enthralled with her as Nick is. And if that’s the case, I can’t imagine how uncomfortable he must be, not just from Hannah’s being here but also the fact that she’s bedding down with his twin.
I can see how Hannah would have been attracted to both of them initially. As fraternal twins, Marcus and Nick aren’t supposed to look any more alike than regular brothers, but there’s an uncanny resemblance. They’re both about six feet tall, a little shorter than Gabe, with light blue eyes like their mother and her blond hair, as well, though slightly darker.
That said, they lack the magical bond so manyidenticaltwins have. They get along well enough most of the time, but from what Gabe has told me, and what I’ve seen with my own eyes, there’s always been a subtle, unspoken rivalry between them. By all accounts, Nick was an easygoing and fun kid, a natural athlete whom others glommed on to, whereas Marcus was a chubby, introspective child, who spent hours in his room and didn’t fully come into his own—and his looks—until his midtwenties, around the time he and Gabe began their partnership. And though Marcus is now happily married and runs a successful business with Gabe, due in no small part to his excellent head for numbers, I sense he’s still envious of Nick at times.
And though this is farlessobvious, I suspect Nick has moments when he envies Marcus. For being so brainy. Fornot needing to charm people until their cheeks hurt from smiling.
Once the heavenly tiramisu has been served and eaten, I rise and make my way over to Henry, who’s been entertaining Ash through the meal and now has his eyes at half-mast. Gabe joins us.
“Want me to tuck him in?” I ask.
“No, I better do it,” Gabe says. “I want to make sure he feels really comfortable sleeping in a different house from us. I’ll meet you at the cottage, okay?”
I nod. “Night, honey,” I say to Henry, tousling his silky light brown hair.
“Can you do Peter and Wendy tonight?” he asks, looking up at me.
I’ve been readingPeter Panto him when he stays at our loft in the city, acting out the characters, but it’s clear he’d pass out tonight before I uttered a line. Plus, it’s good to give Gabe some time alone with Henry. He’s got great natural instincts as a father, but I know he’s always working at being an even better one. His marriage broke up when Henry was only two, and he initially felt fairly hapless as a single dad, along with petrified that Amanda would sense his insecurity and use it to press for full custody. He stockpiled dozens of parenting books and even did sessions with a child therapist to help him gain more confidence and skill.
“Some other night this week, I promise. When you’re not so sleepy.”
Gabe sweeps him up in his arms and off they go. Moments later, the extended family members say their good-byes before they start back to New Jersey, and Blake and Wendyannounce they’re turning in. Before they head up to the carriage house, which they’re sharing with Nick and Hannah, Ash announces to everyone that the badminton tournament kicks off Monday at four so we have the weekend to simply relax.Too bad, I think.I’m going to have to wait two whole days to see the mistress of the shuttlecock in action.
After wishing the remaining guests good night, I wander up to the cottage. The sky is cloudless, scattered everywhere with bright white stars, and the night air is filled with the insistent, magical calls of katydids and crickets.
Inside the cottage, I curl up on the sofa, waiting for Gabe. My tummy, I notice, is still doing a vaguely nervous jig. I check my phone, but there’s still nothing from Shawna. Which makes sense, of course. Why would she bother answering a work text on a Friday night in the summer?
There is, however, a text from my mom, asking how things are going in Pennsylvania.Nice,I tell her.Good to see everybody. Will give you a call this week.I know it’s not necessary, but when I talk to my mother, I often find myself underplaying how much fun I have with the Keatons. Despite their sadness, my parents tried their best to give my sister and me a happy home, and I don’t ever want her to think that our family was lacking.
Fifteen minutes later, Gabe still isn’t back, and I realize he’s probably having a hard time getting Henry down. I mount the stairs and change for bed, telling myself I’ll read until Gabe returns, but when I feel him crawl in bed beside me, I realize I’ve dozed off with the lights on.
“Hi,” I murmur, happy to finally see him again. “Where’ve you been?”
“I ended up walking Nick and Hannah over to the carriage house after I put Henry to bed.”
“Oh. What did you think?”
“My mom did a really great job with it. Open plan downstairs, two bedrooms on the second floor.”
“No, I mean what do you think of Hannah?”
“Oh, the mystery woman,” he says, reaching across me and turning off the light on my bedside table. “Yeah, she seems nice, fun. Certainly an improvement over the girl Nick brought to our apartment a few months ago.”
“Did you know that she used to date Marcus?”
“Yeah, so I hear. But he says it wasn’t a big deal. Apparently, she was a little too flashy for his taste.”
