Chapter 6
E llie had been trying to forget about their engagement party for weeks.
On her last visit to her mom’s house, they silently languished over dinner like two women in a dreary oil painting.
Their conflict had a long lineage; Ellie could never quite squeeze into whatever box her mother tried to place her in.
She was never going to be a modest dresser who networked and married someone well-off .
But maybe the party was a peace offering.
After all, Sandra Marshall best expressed herself by way of expensive catering.
“Your mom’s place is beautiful,” Drake said. He’d visited the giant white house only twice; first for one of the aforementioned dinners, and again for a cookie exchange where her mom’s friends had tried to pass the work of gourmet bakeries off as their own.
“It is beautiful,” she agreed. While Ellie’s personal style was more whimsical than her mother’s, she had to admit that Drake was right.
Sandra Marshall was an expert at tacking on cheer for the outside world.
Today, the home’s exterior was embellished with fall decorations.
Tasteful autumn wreaths dotted each window, gourds in a restrained fall palate huddled together on the porch, and two hunky designer scarecrows flanked the black front door.
Ellie checked the time as they exited the car.
It was five exactly. She had wanted to arrive fashionably late so they didn’t have to stand there awkwardly and wait while her mom fussed around the foyer, but Drake felt that would be inconsiderate of them.
He set a timer to make sure they left with enough wiggle room to pick up flowers from the grocery store.
Ellie warned him this gesture wasn’t necessary. It was, after all, their party.
What she was thinking, though, was that her mom already had a florist on staff.
As they rang the doorbell, Ellie began an invisible countdown in her mind: two hours.
Her mom was making a rare effort. Ellie wanted to meet her halfway.
Weddings brought people together sometimes.
She doubted it would work for her own family, but it was worth a try. She could do anything for two hours.
The door swung open. Much like the house itself, her mom looked perfect without showing the exhaustive effort that went into that perfection.
The lines of her silver linen top and navy silk skirt complemented her lean frame, especially when met with the posture of a politician’s wife.
“You’re here!” she said. Then, “Finally.”
Ellie wasn’t sure what the finally was supposed to mean.
They were right on time. It was the handful of guests who had already arrived—early—who were the rude ones.
Ellie’s confidence dwindled as she surveyed the formal scene her mom had arranged.
Maybe an hour and a half was enough time for their visit.
“Hi, Mom,” Ellie said.
“It’s great to see you, Sandra.” Drake handed over the grocery store bouquet.
Sandra’s button nose, which Ellie knew was her least favorite feature, scrunched up for a second before she reached out to accept it.
Drake shot Ellie a hesitant look as it changed hands; he must have spotted the posh floral display worthy of a five-star hotel in the entrance. “My folks send their regrets.”
Drake was being polite about his parents’ absence.
Ellie’s mom had planned this party without checking to see if the date worked for them, and Beth and Robert were already booked for a nonrefundable vacation.
Beth had gone back and forth for weeks on whether to skip it, but Drake insisted they go.
The Nielsons rarely broke their routine or left town.
The fact that their “trip of a lifetime” was a lodge three hours from home with “a really decent dinner buffet” was proof of this.
“Thank you, Drake,” Sandra cooed. “Come in. Make yourselves at home.”
Ellie imagined that other adult children bounded up the stairs to their old bedrooms or leaped onto worn-in sofas to indulge in their favorite comfort movies.
Instead, she froze in the entrance like a stranger hypnotized by the smell of crisp apple.
Two caterers in black uniforms stood at the heart of the cream-colored furniture in the formal living room, waiting for more guests to arrive and grab their crudités.
A bar was stacked high with crystal glassware, and NEGRONI was written underneath the handpainted sign announcing a signature drink.
“I didn’t know you liked a Negroni,” Drake said.
“I don’t,” Ellie told him. She turned to make sure her mom was out of earshot.
Sandra was already greeting a few more guests at the door.
As Ellie watched the room begin to fill up with vaguely familiar people, she wished she’d taken a more active role in planning this event.
Jen, Marc, and their other close friends weren’t anywhere to be found.
She also felt the absence of her immediate family.
Ben would have a lot to say about the decorative needlefelted gourds on the mantelpiece and the home’s many shades of white.
“Look at this, sis,” she pictured him telling her.
“Once again, we return to our former abode—the love child of a Nancy Meyers movie and a Restoration Hardware catalog.”
Ben would’ve made this party fun. Even her dad’s presence would’ve made it interesting.
But the only faces Ellie recognized were her uncle David, who liked to brag about stocks, a few casual childhood friends, and her cousins Martha and Jonathan—fraternal twins, both attorneys.
Many of her mom’s esteemed aquaintances from the country club chattered around the room about things like pickleball fundraisers.
The party had almost nothing to do with the two of them.
It was a pageant of sorts—a chance for her mom to paint the illusion of closeness with her daughter in front of a crowd.
A glass clinked at the top of the stairs.
“Hello, all,” Sandra said. She brushed her hair off her shoulders.
It had been dyed blonde for so many years that Ellie didn’t know its true shade.
“Thank you for being here. And for helping me eat all the little meatballs and cheese circling around. It’s an important job, you all have here today.
” Her mom’s friends laughed at this humor attempt.
Ellie was certain Sandra had avoided the meatballs and cheese entirely, nibbling at a few briny olives to fit in.
“To those of you who don’t know her, I wanted to introduce my daughter, Ellie.
” Sandra gestured to her from the top of the stairs.
“Ellie is an esteemed writer. And a television host.” Sandra cued the group to “ooo” and “ahh” with the appropriate wave of her hand; she could be such an entertainer in public.
“And next to Ellie is her fiancé, Drake,” Sandra said.
Drake nodded hello. “He works in construction.” Ellie bit her lip hard.
The way she had knighted them by their jobs set her on edge.
Plus, the way Sandra said it didn’t even make what he did clear; he was a project manager for construction sites.
He also hated his current job and constantly spoke about the business he wanted to start.
Ellie feared her mom’s introduction would bring all that up, but Drake seemed unbothered.
“They met …” Sandra glanced down at Ellie, searching for clues. Did she even know the story of how they met? Ellie wasn’t sure she had ever asked. “Well, I’ll let you tell it.”
“We met at a bar,” Drake said. Everyone gathered in the formal living room and kitchen turned their attention from the stairwell to where Ellie and Drake stood in the foyer.
“We met at a lounge,” Ellie clarified. For some reason, she felt the word lounge would help this group. It surprised her that she cared.
“We did,” Drake agreed, giving her a funny look on this point.
“I went there all the time because I liked how the bar … lounge … was always the same. It felt familiar. And then, Ellie walked in one night. There was this shift in me, I guess. We sat and talked for hours. I walked her home in the rain.” He cleared his throat and held his hands up. “Just a walk, I swear.”
The crowd laughed a little at what was implied. Ellie was impressed by the way Drake took the stage, especially since his group gatherings rarely extended beyond dinners with their friends or his parents.
“I don’t like walking much,” Ellie explained, “or the rain. But I agreed to a long walk in the rain after talking to Drake because I wanted to spend more time with him. I was worried at first. He seemed too perfect. You know? Like, what is this guy hiding?” This confession was met with a polite collective laugh.
“But once I got to know him, I realized he’s not perfect at all.
He’s a total goofball, this one. I love him a lot,” she said. “And that’s the way that we met.”
Sandra blotted her eyes with a handkerchief; the story had affected her. Was she happy for her little girl or sad that her daughter hadn’t ended up with someone in finance? “To Ellie and Drake,” she said.
Glasses raised around the room. Ellie felt herself performing. She couldn’t help it. The need to be on was in her blood. She didn’t want any of this fanfare on her wedding day—the forced camaraderie, or the reminder that key members of her family wouldn’t be there.
For about the thousandth time, Ellie daydreamed of eloping.