Beautiful Day

SUNDAY
ANN

Beau-the White Elephant bartender, originally from Charleston-made the best whiskey sours Ann had ever tasted. She drank one down as she oversaw the preparations for the brunch, and doing so put her in an excellent mood. It was a sparkling, sunny day, and the open-sided tent on the front lawn of the White Elephant had resplendent views of the harbor. Under the tent were two long tables swathed in white linen, each with twenty-four seats, and eight arrangements of luscious, multicolored hothouse roses in round cut-crystal bowls. The waiters had chilled two cases of good champagne (Pommery, a favorite since the wine-tasting group). The orange juice, Ann had been assured, was freshly squeezed, pressed by the tiny hands of industrious elves all night long-or so joked Confederate Beau, who couldn’t have been more beguiling. Ann was wearing a white lace sundress and her new pearl choker; she could now wear white without worrying about competing with the bride.

The buffet included standard brunch fare-fruit salad served in a carved-out watermelon, Danish, bagels and muffins, as well as bacon, hash browns, and home fries, eggs Benedict with Canadian bacon, spinach, or lobster, and an omelet station. In addition were Ann’s regional specialties: barbecue from Bullock’s, fried chicken, collard greens, hush puppies, coleslaw, regular grits and cheesy grits. Later they would bring out banana pudding, a bourbon pecan pie, and red velvet cake.

The Dixieland band-five men in their sixties, two with white handlebar mustaches, all five wearing peppermint-striped shirts, suspenders, and straw boaters-were tuning up. There was a small dance floor. Ann was a little disappointed that only fifty people had RSVP’d-she had been hoping for eighty to a hundred-but the right people would be here. All the groomsmen were coming, all the Carmichaels, and Maisy and Sam, and all of Ann and Jim’s friends from Durham.

And Helen was coming-or at least Ann believed she was coming. She had RSVP’d yes, although that seemed to have a fluid definition for Helen. She clearly thought it was okay to say she would be in attendance and then not show. Her place at dinner the night before had sat empty, although no one had missed her, with the possible exception of Maisy-and so Ann figured it was probably a wise decision Helen had made, despite its rudeness. And Jim had been right: Ann was far happier without Helen under the tent. Ann didn’t know if she should wish for Helen to show today or not. “Not show” would be the obvious answer-let Helen loll around in bed with Skip Lafferty all morning-but a part of Ann still wanted to prove something to Helen. This was Ann’s party-and look how lovely it was!

Ann and Jim stood together in the middle of the tent, and she hugged him tight, and he kissed the top of her head. The band played “Georgia.” They were, for the moment, the only guests at their party, and they swayed to the music. It was perfect right now. Too bad she couldn’t stop time and have it stay just like this.

Forty-five minutes later, the band was in full swing. They were playing “Riverboat Shuffle,” and the whiskey sours and Lynchburg Lemonades were flowing freely. When Jenna and Stuart entered the tent-looking fresh faced and completely reenergized, as though they’d slept for ten hours then awoken and gone for a bracing swim in the ocean (although Ann knew this couldn’t have been the case)-Stuart led his new wife right onto the dance floor and swung her expertly around to “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Everyone burst into applause. Because it was a buffet, people could get up and move around, switch seats if they wanted to, stand at the edge of the dance floor and tap their toes, then go out and dance to a few numbers. Yes, everyone complained about being tired and hung over, but this seemed to add to the conviviality of the gathering rather than detract from it.

“Hair of the dog!” Robert Lewis said as he toasted Ann with his bourbon.

“Great party!” Autumn said. She and H.W. were attached at the hip. Ann watched H.W. fetch Autumn a plate of barbecue, saying, “You have to try this. It’s from the most famous smoke pit in Carolina.” He actually went so far as to feed Autumn the first bite, and Ann had to look away.

Ann hadn’t eaten yet; she was too busy talking and laughing, and then taking a quiet minute to observe and appreciate. Doug Carmichael seemed subdued, and Ann didn’t see Pauline anywhere. She approached Doug and said, “Thank you so much for last night. It was magnificent.”

Doug smiled and raised his drink. “They’re great kids, they deserve the best.”

Ann touched her glass to his own. “Is Pauline coming?”

Doug cast his eyes down at his plate, which held a gnawed chicken leg, the crusts of an English muffin, and a smear of ketchup. “Pauline headed home,” he said. “There were some things she had to do back in Connecticut.”

“Oh,” Ann said. She had the urge to sit next to Doug and see if she could get him to open up-why had Pauline run from the church? Was everything okay? After all, Doug and Pauline were now Ann’s family; someday they would all be grandparents to the same children. But Ann was a politician, not a therapist; in conversation, she had always been a surface glider rather than a deep digger.

As Ann was wondering what to say next to Doug Carmichael, she saw Helen walk into the party.

Helen. Jaw-dropping, impossible-to-miss Helen was wearing a fire-engine red strapless patio dress that flowed in one shocking column from her breasts to the ground. Her hair was tousled and wavy, as though she had just come from the beach. She was on the arm of Skip Lafferty, who was wearing a navy blazer and a red bow tie that matched Helen’s dress. The two of them were so tall and so striking that nearly everyone turned to gawk at them. There was a lull in the tent, then the band launched into “A Good Man Is Hard to Find.”

“Excuse me,” Ann said to Doug. “I have to go say hello.”

Ann marched over to Helen and Skip. She knew she should wait until Jim was beside her, but there wasn’t time. She was the hostess of this party; she would greet her guests. It was, of course, unspeakably rude that Helen had brought Skip with her when she’d only RSVP’d for one-but at this point, Ann had ceased to be surprised at the woman’s lack of breeding. When Ann got home, she was going to secretly send Helen a copy of Emily Post in an unmarked envelope.

“Hello, Helen,” Ann said. She held out a hand, but Helen insisted on bending down to execute the ludicrous European double-cheek kiss. There was a slit to the knee in Helen’s patio dress, and Ann caught a glimpse of the red patent leather platform sandals Helen was wearing, which added at least three inches to her already formidable height. Ann was so much shorter, she felt like a child. Why would someone who was already so tall wear platform shoes? She liked lording her height over everyone else, Ann supposed, and Skip Lafferty was such a sideshow giant, she could wear whatever shoes she wanted. Ann offered her hand to Skip. “Skip, I’m Ann Graham. We met briefly yesterday morning.”

Skip shook her hand and smiled. “Yes, I remember. Hello again. Thank you for including me.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” Ann said. She turned toward the party, thinking, Honestly, the nerve of the woman! In one corner of the tent, she could see Olivia Lewis and Jim both eyeballing her. “Well, it’s a buffet, so get a drink and help yourself. Enjoy the music.”

Skip took in the scene and rubbed his hands together. He looked delighted to have scored this invitation, and Ann felt a small ping of gratitude. Then Skip said, “Oh, look, there’s Kevin Carmichael! I hired his company to help me with a building project in St. Louis last year. Hold on, Helen, I’ll be right back.” Skip beelined for Kevin, leaving Helen and Ann standing alone.

Ann thought, Oh, God, I have to get away. But walking off now and leaving Helen would be impolite, and Ann refused to stoop to Helen’s level. A waiter with a tray of champagne approached, and both Helen and Ann accepted a glass.

“That’s funny,” Ann said. “That Skip knows Kevin. What are the chances?”

“Who?” Helen said.

“Kevin Carmichael?” Ann said. “Jenna’s brother?”

Helen nodded distractedly, and Ann couldn’t be sure that Helen even knew who Jenna was.

“Jenna,” Ann said. “The bride.”

“Yes, I know,” Helen said. “I met Jenna on Friday night at the rehearsal dinner.” She smiled at Ann, and Ann was cheered to see that Helen had a smudge of red lipstick on her front tooth. “I’m afraid I threw her for a loop.”

At first Ann thought Helen meant that Helen’s presence threw Jenna for a loop, just as it had been throwing Ann for a loop all weekend. But then she wondered if Helen meant something else. “Threw her for a loop? How?”

“I accidentally mentioned Stuart’s first fiancée,” Helen said.

“Criss-.” Ann swallowed. Her ears were ringing, and the band suddenly seemed too loud. What was Helen saying? “You were the one who told her about Crissy Pine?”

“Obviously I assumed she already knew,” Helen said. “I mean, my God, Ann, she was about to marry Stuart and she didn’t know that he’d been engaged before? He’d never told her?”

“It certainly wasn’t your place to tell her!” Ann said. “I don’t think you realize what kind of fiasco you caused. Jenna nearly canceled the wedding. She nearly left him!”

Helen sniffed. “Well, it’s better that it’s out in the open,” she said. “Stuart didn’t want to get married with that skeleton in his closet.” Helen’s red dress made her look like a she-devil. Evil incarnate.

“What do you even know about it?” Ann asked. “Stuart isn’t your son.”

“I heard the whole story from Jim,” Helen said. “I do ask him about the other kids; I always have. We are all one family, Ann, like it or not.”

Ann was rendered speechless. She squared herself in front of Helen. “You know what, Helen?”

Helen sipped her champagne. Her eyes were now fixed on Skip Lafferty, who was deep in conversation with Kevin Carmichael. Skip’s hand was resting on Kevin’s shoulder, and it was for this reason that Ann noticed Skip’s wedding band.

He’s married! she thought.

“What?” Helen said.

“I should never have invited you to this wedding,” Ann said. “I don’t know why I did. I guess I wanted to prove that I was the bigger person, I wanted to show myself that I had moved beyond what happened twenty years ago. I could offer an olive branch, I could invite you here. But the fact of the matter is, we are not all one family. You destroyed my family. You’re responsible for the worst catastrophe of my life.”

“Y’all can blame me,” Helen said, “but I wasn’t acting alone. I didn’t get pregnant alone.”

“I have made my peace with Jim,” Ann said. “But I find that I simply cannot make peace with you.”

“I could never believe you took Jim back,” Helen said. “It seemed pitiful to me. You’re a smart woman, Ann, and halfway attractive. You wield actual power in certain circles. You could have met someone else. You could have done better.”

“That’s where you and I differ,” Ann said. “For me, there is no one better. My life has always been about loving Jim.”

Helen opened her mouth to speak, but Ann was done listening. Ann walked away, leaving Helen and her lipstick-smudged teeth. Ann tapped Skip Lafferty on the shoulder, interrupting his conversation with Kevin Carmichael.

“I need to warn you about Helen,” Ann said. She leaned in closer to Skip’s ear. “She’s a pit viper.”

Skip smiled at Ann uncertainly; he might not have heard what she said over the strains of “The Entertainer,” but Ann didn’t care. Another woman might have repeated herself, another woman might have screamed at Helen, or called her a bitch or a whore, another woman might have made a snarky comment about the bright colors Helen had worn all weekend and the way they echoed the natural bright colors of poisonous snakes, and venomous frogs, fish, and spiders, another woman might have thrown a drink or accidentally “spilled” a plate of cheesy grits all over Helen’s red patent leather platform sandals. Another woman might have heard the phrase “halfway attractive” and made a scene, but not Ann. Saint Ann, Catholic schoolgirl Ann, state senator Ann. Ann had gotten the chance today to say what she’d wanted to say, and that was enough.

Jim approached her and took her in his arms. “You okay?” he said.

“Wonderful,” Ann said.

“I would marry you again, you know,” Jim said. “Again and again and again, every day of our lives I would marry you, Annie.”

The band launched into “Ain’t Misbehavin’.”

“Let’s dance,” Ann said.