The plane ride home was awkward, to say the least. Mark had apologized; I had apologized. But this wasn’t our typical fight and make up. It was bigger than that, maybe because it was one of the first times that, instead of glossing over everything, we had both taken stock of what we had actually done wrong and what we needed to do to fix it. I had, anyway.
As we pulled onto Mark’s street in Peachtree Bluff, I finally said, “Let’s go inside and open a bottle of wine and really get it all out on the table. I have a lot to say, and I’m sure you do, too.”
Mark took my hand and nodded. He seemed relieved. But as we made our way to the driveway, it became abundantly clear that it was not going to happen. Becauseshewas here. In all her glory. In a Pucci caftan with marabou trim, a skinny belt accentuating her minute waist, a martini in one hand, Botoxed within an inch of her life, cigarette hand motioning to a mover to take her Louis Vuitton trunks upstairs.
“Thisis who is going to be taking care of our children?” I asked Mark under my breath as we stepped out of the car.
“Mom!” he called loudly, ignoring me as she scurried to him without spilling a drop of her martini. It was quite impressive.
“Darling, darling, darling,” she said, kissing him three times. “Oh, you get more handsome every day. I absolutely swear you do. And Emerson,” she said to me, giving me a critical eye. She smiled, and I almost thought she was going to compliment me. “Aren’t you pinching yourself? You must be the luckiest girl in the world to have snagged my prince!”
I was thinking,I can’t, I absolutely cannot,as Mark said, “I am the luckiestmanin the world to be marrying Emerson Murphy. I can’t believe it.” He squeezed my hand supportively.
“I’m just back from the south of France with my new gentleman friend, and I think you two should have your honeymoon there,” said Mark’s mother. “It’s absolutely fabulous. And I know everyone who’s anyone there now, so I can fix it all up.”
I looked at Mark. I couldn’t imagine what his childhood must have been like. His mother was always gone, flitting off to Paris with this man, Provence with that one, being swept into the arms of a Saudi prince this week, an Israeli prime minister the next. It was shocking how many men this one had accrued. But she was beautiful and poised, and I could see why men liked her. I wasn’t sure if they never kept her, but I believe it was that she never kept them. She had a collection of engagement rings that could rival the crown jewels. I wondered if the new ruby on her left hand was an addition to the set.
If I hadn’t hated her so much for putting Mark through hell as a kid, I would have loved her. Despite her tendencies, she could be quite a bit of fun. But Mark carried scars so deep from a neglected childhood that even I couldn’t heal them. And I felt a warm tenderness rise up for him then. All he had ever experienced was women leaving him. Of course he didn’t want me to leave Peachtree for LA. At that thought, I snuggled into his side, wrapping my arm around his. He was like a stray dog. All he needed was someone to love him, someone to make him feel playful and fun, not so beaten down. That person was me. I was very lucky.
“Mrs. Becker,” I began, ready to play nice and help her get settled in.
But then she said, “No, darling, it’s Duchess now.” And I knew then that I couldn’t help her. No one could.
I looked up at Mark, and he looked down at me. And I wondered again how he could possibly have turned out normal at all.
MY UNCLE SCOTT WASthe one who made me wish I had a brother. He had always been super-protective of Mom.
When we got home from New York, Scott claimed he was coming to Peachtree Bluff straight from his latest humanitarian-aid-slash-reporting project in Puerto Rico because he wanted to help Mom go through the rest of Grammy’s things. But we all knew better. He just wanted to check on his sister.
Our trip had given Mom an excuse to keep all of Grammy’s things sitting in storage for a bit longer. She didn’t have any use for them, but she also couldn’t bear to part with the relics of Grammy’s life. It made sense to me. It drove Caroline absolutely insane.
I was walking into the kitchen that morning when I overheard Caroline saying, “I mean, it’s borderline hoarder behavior. She needs to hire one of those estate-sale companies and get it over with. People would be thrilled to have all that beautiful furniture.”
I had rolled my eyes and turned to walk back upstairs, not interested in Caroline inthismood this early in the morning, when I heard Sloane say, “If Jack is any indication, Mom isn’t great at cutting ties with the past.”
“Lucky for us,” Caroline whispered.
Sloane laughed. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
Now my interest was piqued. On the one hand, the sneaky little sister in me didn’t want them to know I had overheard their conversation. But the other part of me wanted to investigate, so I walked in, saying, “Why is that lucky for us?”
Sloane visibly winced, which was my first clue something was up. But Caroline, always quick on her feet, just said, “I mean, do you want to be looking after Mom forever?”
I pursed my lips and looked from one of them to the other. They were hiding something.
I crossed my arms. “That is not what you meant.”
Before I could delve deeper, Scott burst through the door. “Favorite family member has arrived!”
Truth be told, Uncle Scott had always been our favorite, but after he helped find Adam and bring him home safely, we had all decided, definitively, that favorite-family-member status was his forever after. We even had a T-shirt made for him with his face on the front andFavorite Uncle for Lifeon the back, which he was currently wearing.
Scott was staying overnight, and I noticed he had only one backpack. I would never understand that man. Whatever packing gene he had, I did not get it.
“Em, you want to help me unpack?” he asked, totally distracting me from what my sisters had been saying before he walked in.
“Well, someone has to,” I said lightly.
When we were out of earshot, walking toward the guest room, he asked, “How you holding up?”
