Chapter 43 Lillian
News of the engagement of Eloise Jenkins and Clyde MacDougal spread like the wildfire during Mackinac Island’s great drought
Some said he’d recited a ten-page poem during the proposal in the Grand Hotel ballroom. Others were insistent he’d taken Eloise
on a carriage ride to Arch Rock, then dropped to his knee with a five-carat diamond, or a vintage sapphire, depending on who
told it. Patricia Doud was running around town telling everyone Clyde had wooed Eloise with a home-cooked meal (with groceries
from Doud’s, coincidentally enough) before popping the question. Josephine May had a similar story, but with May’s turtle
fudge as the centerpiece.
Lillian heard more about it from Trina during a long shift at the Pink Pony.
“Eloise Jenkins is getting married before my own daughter,” Trina fumed in the kitchen. “It’s a sad summer, that’s what it
is.”
Trina was disconsolate about Lillian’s breakup with James, which had formally taken place earlier that week. After Lillian
had told Gigi what was going on, it felt ridiculous to keep up the farce any longer. James had agreed.
“What did you do?” had been Trina’s first question when Lillian broke the news. “I thought we had fixed everything.”
As if that was all Lillian was—a problem to be fixed, a single woman in need of a husbandly solution.
“It just wasn’t right,” Lillian said. “We both knew it.”
“You think I waited for everything to be perfect before I married your father?” Trina had replied. “But we got married, made
it work. That’s what you do.”
“No.” Lillian unleashed pent-up lip from her teenage days. “That’s what you do.”
Lillian should be making her way back to Chicago. She still had her lease. She could find another job. But she had promised
herself that she wouldn’t leave until she’d talked to her parents.
The island was stickier than the Pink Pony’s toffee pudding. Lillian sweated through her restaurant uniform, her tennis outfits,
her satin pajamas. August had arrived, the busiest tourist month, making July look like the warm-up act. The Pink Pony was
packed, hour-long waits and well-coiffed heiresses leaving two-hundred-dollar tips after multiple rum runners.
It was something to console Lillian’s parents. Business was booming, even if their once-promising daughter had turned out
to be a sore disappointment.
Gigi’s reaction—or lack of reaction, really—to Lillian’s news had boosted her spirits. Perhaps Gigi was right and Lillian
had been building it all up in her head too much, overestimating how much of a disaster it was going to be.
Lillian needed to give her parents a fair shot. Well, her mother, at least. She would start with Trina and then perhaps together
they could talk to Lillian’s father.
***
“Why do we have to go out for ice cream when we already have some in the freezer?” Trina asked Lillian the next day as they
walked from the Pink Pony to Sadie’s.
Things had cooled down just a little, in both emotions and temperature. They were enjoying a break at the restaurant between when the lunch rush finished and the seniors started coming in for the early bird special.
“Gigi and Eloise wanted to get together,” Lillian said. “They invited us.”
Trina looked suspicious. “You and Gigi don’t get along. And surely you know Eloise and I have never been close. I’ve always
been on the outside of their little foursome, even though Kitty moved to the island after we did.”
“Maybe it doesn’t always have to be like that,” Lillian said. “Gigi’s grown up a lot.”
Gigi had helped her plan this ice cream outing as a way to keep Lillian accountable. They’d agreed that Lillian would have
the conversation with Trina right before meeting up with Gigi and Eloise. Then, even though Trina would be upset, she’d care
about her own reputation enough to hold it together in public and let the initial fury pass before confronting Lillian privately.
“Do I have her to blame for the fact that you’ve seemed to regress in maturity this summer?” Trina asked.
“Mom.” Lillian felt the cut of the comment. “Do you really think I’m that bad?”
“Of course I don’t. I’m just confused. Everything you said you wanted out of life: the big job, the husband, the family. It
seems like you’re throwing it all away. And for what?”
“For freedom,” Lillian said.
“Please,” Trina said. “You had the privilege of growing up in America.” She gestured to the cozy Main Street scene: the flags,
the families, the friendliness. “Don’t talk to me about freedom.”
“I don’t mean that kind of freedom. I’m very lucky that way. What you and Dad have given me, and given up for me, is incredible.”
She hoped her mother knew how much she meant it.
“Then what kind of freedom do you mean?”
“Freedom to love who I want to love.”
“And who exactly do you want to love?”
“Women.” The word didn’t stick to Lillian’s tongue, didn’t ask for more time. It was as ready to be out as she was. “That’s
it. That’s everything.”
She meant it both ways. That she had nothing more to say, and also that this truth was all-encompassing. That if she couldn’t
do that, she would always be performing, always be changing herself to fit someone else’s template, always be tucking into
the shade of the pines rather than standing boldly in sunlight.
Trina stopped walking. She asked Lillian to repeat herself. Lillian did, then waited. Her mother asked if this was the reason
the wedding was called off.
Lillian said yes, that she had nearly gone through with it but just couldn’t in the end.
“You still could have gone through with it,” Trina said. Lillian felt her stomach fall, though there was already a lightness
in having the secret out of her. “Many people do.”
Lillian tried to prepare a reply. Her air supply felt low.
“But if that is really how you feel,” Trina continued, “then I am glad you did not.”
Lillian looked up, hoping she hadn’t misheard.
“Do not misunderstand me,” Trina said, an intensity in her dark eyes. “I am not glad about this. It will make your life harder;
it is sure to.”
“Not so much.” Lillian was thrilled to feel concern coming her way rather than condemnation. “Times have changed. I’ll have
a good life, Mom. A great life. And I want you in it.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Trina said harshly. “Why wouldn’t I be in my own daughter’s life? My only child’s life?”
Lillian had never been so elated to see her mother indignant. “I just thought...”
“You think too much; you always have,” Trina said.
Lillian felt very shaky. She sat down on the curb to rest for a moment.
“Get up.” Trina frowned down at Lillian. “It’s dirty down there.”
Trina reached out a hand. Lillian took it as she got to her feet, holding on a few seconds too long.
They kept on toward Sadie’s. Lillian had never seen Mackinac so beautiful. The charm of the horses, the cheer of the tourists.
The island had a new expansiveness to it. Lillian’s heart was brimming with all the love she’d been prepared to lose so that
she might not lose herself. The love she’d gotten to keep after all, so it doubled up within her, overflowing.
Perhaps she should have had this conversation many months ago, many years ago. But she had still been figuring it all out.
She wouldn’t have been able to express her truth before she was standing in it so firmly. And Trina might not have responded
as she had, respected her as she had, if Lillian had been wavering herself. As much angst as it had brought, there was beauty
in the timing, silver in the lining.
They found Gigi and Eloise waiting for them on a bench outside Sadie’s. Gigi had two massive ice cream cones in hand and Eloise
held two double-scoop cups. As they greeted each other, Gigi gave Lillian an inquisitive look. How did it go? her green eyes asked.
Lillian gave a subtle thumbs-up. Gigi smiled at her so widely that Lillian was nearly knocked over by the brute force of it,
the true north of it. Resurrecting their friendship from the dead had not been on her summer bingo card.
“One lilac ice cream for you,” Gigi said, handing a cone to Lillian. “I had them dig into their reserves in the back.”
“And I got you Moose Tracks, Trina,” Eloise said, somewhat tentatively. “I noticed you buying it at Doud’s before, so I figured
it was a safe bet.”
“Thank you.” Trina accepted the ice cream and congratulated Eloise on her engagement.
Gigi was telling the story of how Clyde had asked for her blessing when a cyclist sped by, careening to a stop in front of Sadie’s.
Mayor Camille Welsh dismounted. She was carrying a stack of what appeared to be campaign flyers.
“Look what we have here!” Camille said, spotting their foursome. “A most magnificent display of neighborly relations.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gigi asked, sensing something sinister beneath the saccharine greeting.
The mayor seemed to be smiling but her face wasn’t moving much, whether from the Botox or lack of genuine emotion, it was
hard to tell. “Well, with the long rivalry you two girls have had, and then the ongoing competition over the doctor,” Camille
said to Lillian and Gigi. “It’s mighty good of you to put on such conciliatory faces.”
Lillian expected Gigi to come up with an acerbic retort, but it was Trina who spoke first.
“Enough, Camille,” Trina said. “Stop trying to tear them apart. Like you’re trying to tear this town apart.”
Lillian felt a swelling of pride. Her mother, who had tried so hard to assimilate to this town, was now standing up against
its leader.
“Trina,” Camille said disapprovingly. “You would do well to remember the tax cut I’m giving small businesses.”
“You mean the same tax cut you’ve been promising the last two decades? You expect us to believe that if we elect you again,
this will be the term that you actually bring about real change?”
“I’ve done everything in my power,” Camille said, huffing haughtily. “You must understand, a mayor isn’t a dictatorship. I
can’t just wave my hands and fix all the problems.”
“You could try harder, though,” Gigi interjected. “Rather than just turning your position into your own personal vanity project.”
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you ladies today,” Camille said. “But I’m going to carry on with my campaigning and hope
that by the time I see you next, you’ll better embody our Mackinac ethos.”
With that, Camille taped not one but three of the “Re-elect Mayor Camille Welsh for Mackinac Island” flyers to the door of Sadie’s.
The flyer featured no policy stances, just a glamorous full-body shot.
Lillian was nearly certain it was generated by artificial intelligence, so different did it look from the actual Camille.
“Nice photo,” Gigi said. “Looks nearly as fake as your promises.”
Camille ignored her as she got back on her bike and pedaled away.
“She’s vile,” Eloise said when it was just the four of them again.
“Someone needs to run against her this November,” Trina said. “So far she’s unopposed.”
“Have you ever considered it, Trina?” Eloise said. “You’d be great. A small business owner with a real pulse on our local
economy.”
Lillian could tell her mother was flattered. “I appreciate that, but it has no appeal to me,” Trina said. “Too much chaos.”
“I’m with you on that,” Eloise said.
The word chaos made Lillian think of Gigi. “Remember how you always said you were going to be mayor when you grew up?” Lillian said to Gigi.
Young Gigi always used to bring it up when something didn’t go her way. “When I’m mayor, I’m going to change that!” had been her refrain.
“Yeah, back when I thought local government could actually make a difference. How naive.”
“What if it wasn’t naive, though?” Lillian said. “What if you actually ran against Camille?”
Lillian liked the idea more with every passing second. It was abrupt and unusual, sure, but in many ways it was tailor-made
for Gigi.
“That’s ridiculous,” Gigi said, though her eyes sparked. “It would be herding a bunch of spineless sheep. I’d have no patience
for it.”
“That’s why the island needs you,” Lillian said. “You’d break the political gridlock and actually get stuff done.”
“Forget it. I’m the opposite of qualified.”
“Ah, yes, Camille is much more competent. My mistake.” Lillian saw how her comment riled Gigi, how the wheels were turning
in her head.
There was no need to push her on it now. She’d let it settle, let it simmer. Today had already been eventful enough.
“So, Trina and Lillian,” Eloise said. “Are you getting some good mother-daughter time this summer?”
Lillian glanced at Trina. They shared a look that felt like a starting point.
“Yes,” Trina said, offering Lillian a spoonful of her ice cream to try. “We really are.”