Chapter Eighteen Rose
This is a terrible idea,” I whisper to Lily.
I’m holding a pair of gold heels in my left hand and the scrunched fabric of a long, pink dress in the other.
The dress is patterned with white flowers and has flowing sleeves.
I’m happy for the coverage. Lily always dismisses when I complain about my arms, but she has no idea what it’s like to watch your body change, become unfamiliar. I shift the fabric down again.
“Of all the terrible, ridiculous schemes you’ve concocted, this is the worst,” I say.
“Relax,” says Lily, not bothering to look up. She’s fixated on a point farther down the black beach, trying to make out shapes in the distance.
The moon is bright, but it is still not enough to fully illuminate the sand.
Moments earlier, we watched the celestial object rise out of the sea.
It was beautiful and bizarre, like a time-lapse video in reverse.
The moon looked like a creature born of the ocean as it emerged into the skyline inch by inch.
For a moment, we were stunned into an appreciative silence.
Currently, we’re squatted in a sand dune, partially concealed by the tall grass. A few yards ahead are the distant lights of a wedding.
Lily heard about it while working at the yacht club.
There are large white tents, a checkered dance floor, and floral arrangements from ceiling to ground, which must cost more than a college tuition.
Rumor has it there may even be fireworks.
We’re here to cross “crash a wedding” off the bucket list.
“We’re going to get arrested,” I say, a nervous tinge to my voice.
“Arrested?” scoffs Lily. “What would we get arrested for?”
“I don’t know… loitering! Or, like, breaking and entering. Actually, yes, I have it! Trespassing. This is trespassing on private property.”
“It’s the beach, Mom. It’s not private.”
“Well, tonight it is!” I swat at my ankles, feeling something creeping up my left leg. “And we’re going to get ticks and then Lyme disease.”
I sound like my sister, who is the epitome of hypochondria.
Elizabeth is constantly diagnosing herself with various, far-fetched illnesses on WebMD.
I sometimes wonder if it’s because our mother died so young—if getting ahead of a potential diagnosis, even an imagined one, gives her a sense of control over the uncontrollable.
“If Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson can do it, surely we can.”
“That was a movie, Lil.”
Lily snaps back to look at me, her red hair curly and wild. I’m still getting used to her bangs. They make her look more mature somehow, less like my little girl.
“Oh my gosh, we’re doing this for Lottie. Remember? If a seventy-something woman was willing to crash a wedding, what are you so worried about?”
“Fine,” I sigh, although I’m still not sure. I suppose I already am dressed, and we came all this way. “What’s our strategy?”
“Okay, so I think we should just walk in through the tent, and if anyone asks, we’ll say we wanted to dip our toes in the water.”
“That’s your grand plan? Just walking in? Going for a casual, moonlit stroll in formal dresses?”
“The simplest plans are the best.”
“And if they ask us who we know?”
“Let’s just make up a generic rich person name. Something like… Tripp!” offers Lily.
“Tripp? That’s way too specific, what if there are no Tripps?”
Lily looks me dead in the eyes. “There’s always a Tripp somewhere nearby on Nantucket.”
I laugh. What I don’t tell her is that William sometimes goes by Tripp, too. He’s the third William in his lineage, so lots of his family calls him Tripp, short for “the third.” Lily would certainly make fun of that.
“Okay, true. But how about we say something more generic… like Jack!”
“Jack?” Lily looks doubtful. “It lacks a certain je ne sais quoi.”
“I mean, realistically, how many Jacks do you know? It’s the quintessential boring name. They could unite and form a new country, call it ‘New England.’ ”
Lily laughs. “Okay, you’re right. So, we know Jack?”
“We love Jack,” I confirm. “He’s the best! And then we can say, ‘Are you friends of the groom or the bride?’ and whatever they say, we say the opposite.”
“Brilliant,” says Lily with a mischievous smile. “Lottie would be proud.”
Moments later, we are in the tent, slipping our heels back on, attempting to dust the sand from our dresses.
Grains rattle to the ground, sounding like small beads hitting the floor.
My heart is rattling, too, and the high is illicit and sweet-tasting.
Lily was right, it really was as simple as walking in through the flap of the tent.
“Good job, partner,” whispers Lily from the corner of her mouth, her eyes trained ahead on the dance floor, waiting for security to pop up. “Now, act normal and maybe no one will notice us.”
“Hi,” a man says to my left. “I couldn’t help but notice you.”
“Shit,” says Lily under her breath. “That was fast.”
When I turn around, I’m shocked to see William standing before us, looking dapper in a tux.
“William!” I give him a quick hug. “What are you doing here?”
We’re not quite at the dating stage yet where we tell each other our every plan, but still, this feels like something he would have mentioned.
“I’m friends with the groom’s father, Jack. We’re old buddies from the golf club. It seems to be the season of weddings for me. My niece is getting married here, too.”
Lily shoots me a look at the mention of “Jack,” and I suppress a laugh by biting down on the inside of my cheek.
“This is my daughter, Lily,” I introduce them, straining to sound casual. This is not how I imagined their first meeting going down. “Lily, this is William, a friend of mine.”
She shoots me an inquisitive look but doesn’t push it. “Nice to meet you.”
William takes her hand. “I’m a big fan of your mother, Lily. It is so wonderful to finally meet you.”
Recognition dawns across her face. “You were at Gazebo a few weeks ago, right? You were in the Nantucket reds.” She says the phrase “Nantucket reds” like it’s a particularly horrifying detail.
“Guilty as charged,” says William, bowing slightly. Thankfully, he doesn’t catch her tone. “I’ve been quite infatuated with your mother ever since.”
Why does the word infatuated make me cringe? There’s something slightly ridiculous about his style of speech, but he’s also sweet, and he’s been nothing but kind. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just be happy with a nice guy, for once?
“So, you’re dating?” asks Lily. She crosses her arms against her blue dress—the defiant expression at odds with the ethereal gown. She looks exactly like the headstrong teenager she once was. “You’re together?”
I can imagine what she’s feeling. I wonder if she’s doing the mental calculation, counting back to all those nights I said I was busy with “work” when I was really out with William these past few weeks.
Logically, I know I don’t owe her every detail of my personal life, but I also recognize that she must feel confused by the secrecy.
William surrenders his hands to the air. “Well, we haven’t exactly ‘defined the relationship’ or however you young people put it, but I’m certainly smitten. I’m all hers if she’ll have me.”
Is this really happening right now? Is he truly asking for a relationship commitment in front of my kid?
“That’s very sweet,” is all I say, giving him a pat on his tux sleeve.
To his credit, William doesn’t let the awkward tension build.
“Say, why didn’t I see you two during the ceremony at the chapel or for the seated portion of dinner?
” asks William, looking around the tent at the white-clothed tables, as if double-checking to see if he has somehow missed our place cards.
Lily widens her eyes at me. The wind on the beach blew my hair out of its clip, so now it feels tangled and unkempt. I smooth it down to kill time. I can’t think of a believable lie, so I go with the truth. “Oh, it’s kind of a funny story. It has to do with that bucket list I found from my aunt.”
William leans in conspiratorially. “Wait a minute, are you two crashing?”
Lily makes another face at me behind his back, shaking her head no.
“Yes,” I admit. Lily smacks a hand to her forehead. “But please don’t tell anyone, okay? It was a stupid idea, and we’re leaving right now. We can cross it off the list.”
William laughs, and the sound is somehow formal, like everything else about him. “Forget that. It’s a party, come in and enjoy. No one will even notice.”
I’m wearing Lottie’s old charm bracelet tonight, and I twist the jewelry around my wrist. Lottie’s favorite charm—a red ladybug—jingles. The sight of it tugs at my heart and then snaps back like an elastic band.
“Are you sure? I really don’t want to put you in an awkward position.”
“Heavens no,” says William, swatting the air, as if physically batting the thought away. “You’ve just made my evening. But, you do owe me a dance.”
I look at Lily. I don’t want to leave her alone. “Oh, that’s so sweet, but I actually already have a date tonight.”
“Go ahead, Mom,” says Lily. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course, go.” She shoos us away. She smiles encouragingly but there’s something heavy in her eyes.
On the dance floor, green vines hang from the ceiling of the tent, crawling up the walls and over the archways.
Alongside them are hydrangeas in blues and whites.
It looks like someone robbed a florist, or more accurately, twelve florists.
Tea candles are placed strategically throughout the tables, lending the whole venue a warm, fairy-tale element.
It’s the kind of setting where anything could happen.
“Wow, this is incredible,” I say aloud as William moves his hand to my waist.
“Did you have a wedding like this?”
I shake my head. “No, I actually never married James. I just took his last name so Lily and I would have the same surname. I was eager to ditch my own. I don’t know if I’d like a wedding, though. I hate being the center of attention.”