27. Abbot #2
“I’m happy for you two.” Beverly keeps hold of Ned’s arm and reaches for Abbot’s.
He used to twist away from her gentle, familiar grasp. He wants to now, but he’s caught in this crowd and—
Ned moves to take Abbot’s hand, neatly disentangling them both. “It was a pretty simple decision,” Ned says to her, and what would Abbot do without him? How did he manage for all those years of his life without this man?
Poorly, he knows. And barely, too.
“I’m glad of it,” Beverly says. “Ned, are these your parents?”
“Dan and Cheryl Coppola,” Abbot says, and he squeezes Ned’s hand. Too tight, maybe, but Ned returns the pressure.
Ned thought it was him Abbot wouldn’t talk to? That something was wrong with Ned that made Abbot not want to revisit his past?
No. No, not ever. But it’s difficult to stand here and watch this group of his father, Beverly and Sandy, Chris and Susan. And absent from it—
No, he thinks. He knows he’s gripping Ned’s hand too hard, but Ned doesn’t pull away.
“Beverly’s a family friend,” Ned says, taking over the introduction so smoothly. “Beverly Jones, and her wife, Sandy. This is my father, Dan. Dad, this is Beverly.”
“So very nice to meet you both.” Dan takes her hand.
“Beverly is a new dean at Newbury,” Ned says. “And Sandy is in real estate.”
“Newbury! What a school, and our Ned teaching there,” Dan says. “Do you know Peggy? Where is she? Oh, over there, the one in the cape.”
“Sorry about that,” Ned says with a grimace. “We talked about taking it off for today, but negotiations weren’t successful. Pat, could you try?”
“I’m on it.” Pat tosses a comical salute toward Ned. “Do I have permission to employ bribery?”
“Why not?” Ned sighs. “That, or we’re editing it out of all the pictures we take.”
“Leave it,” Beverly says. “We had—what was that party? Remember? Henry had his goggles.”
“In Chamonix?” Susan asks.
“Wouldn’t take them off,” Chris says. “I remember that. Henry splashed like a fish in the pool the whole weekend, and we’d gotten you purple swim goggles and you loved them. You were what, six years old?”
“No, it was Cathy’s thirtieth. You couldn’t have been more than four,” Beverly says.
Dimly, Abbot feels Ned drop his hand to loop his arm around his waist.
“Insisted they were your new glasses and you wore them everywhere,” Beverly goes on.
“That’s right,” Susan says. “Bumped into everything, since you couldn’t see five feet in front of you.”
“We have so many pictures, Ned,” Beverly says. “I’ll send some, so you can see. They’re all the more perfect that Henry was so determined to keep those goggles on.”
“We did try,” Charles says. “Though similarly to you, Ned, negotiations failed.”
They all laugh. Abbot hears it distantly, watching from some faraway place as Ned looks between them, the beginning of a smile on his face.
“Well, all this makes a cape seem a bit more acceptable,” Ned says, and Stop, Abbot wants to plead, but he’d have to speak and he’s frozen.
“I was pleased to see she still has it, after dinner the other night,” Charles says.
He’s numb too, Abbot finds, trying to feel his hands, his face.
Ned will help. Ned always helps, and he’ll disengage them from this conversation, or steer it to a new topic.
Ned squeezes his waist and yes, there’s the firm press of his body against Abbot’s side, and Ned taking a breath, ready to speak to rescue him. But Ned turns as his mother’s voice rises over the din.
“Yes, so we’ll just be switching houses,” Cheryl says to Sandy. “I’m sure you know, what with realty and all. So much easier than trying to rent.”
“You’re going to what?” Ned’s voice cuts through the commotion.
“Claire finally called me,” Pat comes over to tell him. “Did you hear? And wait, are we abandoning Capegate?”
“A house swap,” Cheryl says. “We found the most lovely couple in Italy.”
“I was so freaked out, but she’s coming up on Sunday,” Pat says. “And look, Abbot, I just got this, too. I read an entire thing about wine.”
“You and Henry will have found a place by then, right?” Dan asks. “I know, I know, no assumptions.” He waves at the bustle of the room. “But really.”
“I have some perfect properties for them,” Sandy says. “Can’t wait to show them a couple more.”
“It’s not fancy-fancy, but it’s not not fancy.” Pat thrusts a wine bottle into Abbot’s hands.
“It’s a spot just outside Florence,” Cheryl says. “Is that very far from you, Charles?”
“There’s a train,” he says.
“Dan, there’s a train,” Cheryl says.
“What exactly is happening to the house?” Ned asks.
“And if you do end up needing to rent your house while you’re traveling, I’d be happy to help with that,” Sandy cuts in.
“They have trains in Australia,” Dan says. “I’m sure of it. Don’t they?”
“It would be a pleasure to show you around, if you came to Switzerland on your way,” Charles says. “Geneva, or the countryside both. And Florence is lovely. Henry and Liesl’s mother particularly enjoyed it there.”
Abbot feels his grip tighten on the bottle. No. Please, he can only take so much.
“That’s okay wine?” Pat asks. “I made a whole list, and it was on the tippy top, so why not crack it open for today?”
A list. Yes. Abbot had a list. He and Ned made a list this morning, he remembers dimly. The marriage certificate, the identification they needed, today hanging in a careful, tenuous balance that requires him not thinking about—
“We took Henry on the train, when he was about Peggy’s age,” his father goes on.
“With or without the goggles?” Chris asks.
“Without,” Charles says. “Regrettably.”
“A train through Europe sounds lovely,” Cheryl says.
“The house?” Ned asks, voice rising on the question.
“We’re not selling the house,” Cheryl says. “But if you and Henry are moving, we can trade with another couple. There’s a whole website.”
“It’s an app too,” Dan says.
“And these nice people we met, their granddaughter found a program she wants to do in Boston, so they’d come here for a bit, and we’d go there,” Cheryl says.
“So they’ll be living in the house,” Ned says.
“Yes, exactly, rather than it sitting empty and everyone paying for a hotel.”
“Traveling on a train,” Dan says. “I didn’t know you liked trains, Henry. I love a train.”
“I don’t,” Abbot says. Color is rising in Ned’s face. His own too, he’s suddenly sure. Or that’s the warmth in here. It is hot, isn’t it? “And it’s not a direct train.”
“You very much enjoyed that trip,” Charles says. “We showed you where we got married, near Brig.”
Yes, it’s much too hot. He should go. Outside. Away from here.
“Thought they’d run away to get married,” Chris says. “But we made it to that too, didn’t we?”
Cheryl smooths her hand down Ned’s arm. “Ned, you’ll check on the house, won’t you? While we’re gone? And help with anything they’ll need?”
“It was Henry’s mother’s idea to get married there,” his father adds.
Abbot steps back. He wants to put the wine bottle down. Drop it. Shatter it on the floor, like his nerves.
“Must run in the family, right Henry?” Chris asks. “A good old elopement where you just bring everyone. Bev, do you remember—”
“Cathy’s dress?” Beverly asks and then they’re both laughing. “I have a picture. I put it on my phone. Let me just find it.”
“Abbot?” Ned asks. His face looks a little red.
Abbot wants to touch his own cheek, find out if it’s as flushed as he also feels.
He can get married. He can fit his mind around marrying Ned, and doing it very suddenly.
And watching his father talk to Dan and Cheryl, parts of his life colliding, but this conversation? His mother? Talking about her?
Today?
“Abbot,” Ned says again, and his face is still coloring but his eyes are sharp on Abbot’s.
They had a list. They should have stuck to the list. He’s, oh—
Ned’s hand slides into his and gently, he pries the bottle free and pushes it toward Pat, saying something to him that Abbot can’t hear.
Pat sets it down and then claps his hands once, loudly, then again.
“Alright people,” he calls, stepping into the midst of the conversations and raising his voice over the clamor.
“Listen up, folks. We’re pivoting. We’re doing this all wrong.
Everyone who’s not getting married today is on setup crew.
The grooms, you two go on, get. We’ll take care of everything. Go upstairs.”
“Oh, of course,” Cheryl says. “Go take some time for yourselves.”
“Absolutely,” Chris says. “Soak it all in.”
“I can help,” Abbot says automatically.
Ned tugs at him. “No, let’s go.”
Pat shoos them toward the door. “Go, go, go. You two need a minute. Give us a half hour or so, and we’ll let you know when you can come back down.”
Outside, winter’s icy silence hangs around them, a relief in its stillness. Their breath comes in white puffs of clouds, ice fracturing beneath their shoes.