Beachcombers. Part 40

"She loved Christmas, too," Abbie said. "She'd blast Christmas music all over the house and make fifteen different kinds of Christmas cookies and a buche de Noel and she always bought the biggest tree she could find."

"And she put three angels on top of the tree." Lily choked up as she spoke. "She always said we were her three angels, so she had to have three angels on the tree."

"I'd forgotten that." Abbie was growing teary too. "It was a cool idea, but it always looked kind of odd."

Emma raised her gla.s.s. "Here's to the memory of Danielle Fox."

The sisters touched gla.s.ses and downed the last swallow of champagne.

For a few moments they were silent, lost in their own private thoughts.

"Okay." Abbie wrapped her gla.s.s in a paper towel and laid it in the basket. "Let's go."

As they shook the sand off the blanket and folded it into a neat rectangle, Lily asked, "Do you ever think that maybe Mom's really out there? Somewhere? That she can see us?"

Emma chuckled. "It's a nice thought, Lily, but there are times when I wouldn't want Mom to be watching me."

Abbie swirled her toes in the sand. "Remember the things Mom said when she brought us beachcombing? She told us to always believe in something more. She told us to look at what was right in front of us, and we'd see that even a grain of sand was a miracle. That even a bit of gla.s.s was a message, that the universe was full of tricks and clues and signs."

They gazed out at the water in silence for a moment. The sun was low, lighting the tips of the waves with points of light.

"Come on," Emma said.

They slogged up the steep sand dune, carrying the basket and blanket.

Lily said, "But do you, Abbie? Believe in something else?"

"Oh, I don't know, Lily. I guess in my head I think it's not possible, but in my heart I want it to be true. So I guess I believe, in a vague kind of way." Abbie turned to look out at the sea one more time.

Something flashed in the water. Something like a gleam of skin. She gasped.

"What, Abbie?" Lily stopped and turned, too.

"Oh, nothing," Abbie decided. "It was just a trick of the light."

62.

The Family It had been a gamble, and as the wedding day approached, the suspense was nerve-racking for everyone. Jim checked the weather on his iPhone every hour and still went outside and stared up at the sky. They had rented the house on the beach so the bride and her bridesmaids could have a place to dress, and they were prepared, if necessary, to hold the ceremony inside. Marina and the girls had decorated the expansive downstairs living room with sh.e.l.l lights and had buckets of flowers waiting, just in case.

But the April day dawned clear, bright, and unseasonably warm. It was a gift of a day, and the wedding party were elated, as if the day was a message from nature, and who, Abbie insisted, could say that it wasn't?

Earlier, Jim and Howell and Spencer and Jason drove their four-wheel drives onto the sand and set up rows of handsome white folding chairs borrowed from the yacht club in a semicircle, facing the ocean. Abbie and Lily created a low altar out of driftwood and set buckets of pink tulips and yellow daffodils on either side. The boardwalk from the house came right down to the beach through the beach gra.s.s, and they set vases of flowers here and there along the way.

Now cars and trucks were arriving, parking along the side roads, and the wedding guests in all their bright colors made their way, in sandals or barefoot, over the sand to the chairs. Inside, on the second floor, the bride slipped into her gown. The guitarist was still playing softly, and the notes of "The Water Is Wide" drifted up to the house.

On the first floor, Abbie gathered her skirt with both hands and knelt down next to Harry.

"You can do it, Harry," she a.s.sured him. "Just like last night at the rehearsal."

Harry twisted one foot around the other leg and looked miserable. It wasn't his navy blazer and tie making him unhappy. He actually thought it was cool to wear such grown-up clothing, especially since he was also barefoot. He was just having an extreme fit of shyness.

Abbie took a deep breath and looked questioningly up at Howell.

"We'll all be right there with you at the front, buddy," Howell a.s.sured him.

Harry squirmed. "Too many people."

It was understandable. Last night the beach had not been crowded with what seemed like half of Nantucket Island. Now all the folding chairs were filled, and waves of conversation and laughter drifted toward them.

"I have an idea," Abbie said. "What if Bill walked with you?"

Harry's eyes lit up. "Yeah! That would be cool."

Howell shook his head. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea. He's only a puppy."

"But Bill is so calm," Abbie reminded him.

"Should I ask Marina or Jim?" Howell wondered. "They might think it's too, oh, I don't know, daffy."

"Sure." Abbie took Harry's hand. "You double-check with them. Harry and I will go get Bill."

She and Howell had gotten the puppy for Harry for Christmas. They thought it might help the little boy feel older, more responsible, if he had an animal to care for, and the mixed-breed orphan from the MSPCA had turned out to be a perfect fit for their newly evolving family. Harry had named the dog Bill. He was a placid, good-natured, unexcitable little animal with black-and-white markings and one floppy ear. He always looked content, even amused, by his small doggy life. When Harry came to Nantucket for his time with Howell, he was allowed to have Bill sleep in bed with him. Boy and dog had become best friends.

Howell's new Jeep was parked in the drive. Bill was curled up on the front seat, sleeping, and when Abbie opened the door, the little dog c.o.c.ked his head.

"Come on, Billy Boy," Abbie said. "You're going to walk down the aisle."

She fastened the leash on the dog's collar and handed the leash to Harry. Then, with a laugh, she said, "Wait, Harry." Kneeling down, she took one of the white magnolia blossoms from her hair and fastened it carefully to the top of Bill's collar.

"Perfect!" she said.

She held Harry's hand as they walked back up the path to the house. Now she could see the wedding party gathering on the deck overlooking the beach.

Emma leaned on Spencer as he ushered her out to the deck. He looked splendid in a tux, while Emma looked, well, impressive, in the sky-blue chiffon gown they'd had to alter to fit her enormous girth.

"I'm waddling," she said.

He gave her waist a squeeze. "You've never looked more beautiful."

She laughed. "You know, I sort of think that's true. And you've never looked more handsome."

Emma knew Spencer's mother was gale-force wind with fury because Emma was pregnant and they weren't yet married, but Millicent didn't seem bothered. After all, when, in November, they had planned their wedding for the summer, they hadn't known that Emma was pregnant, due in May.

Emma and Spencer had tried to convince Sandra to come to this wedding. Soon they would all be part of one big family, they reminded her, but Sandra was enjoying her ire too much and refused to attend. But Millicent was here. Spencer had brought her to the beach himself, and settled her in one of the front rows, next to Sheila Lester and her husband. Millicent had attired herself quite regally for the wedding, in a silver wool suit and a silver wide-brimmed hat trimmed with feathers and rhinestones and pearls.

Emma and Spencer were living in the big house with Millicent for the next few months. The baby would be born in the hospital, but it was rea.s.suring, having a home health nurse around at night, and during the day when Spencer was working. Emma was working part-time for the historical a.s.sociation, helping Millicent unearth, sort through, and catalog her enormous collection of Nantucket arts and crafts which, when organized (for tax purposes, to a.s.suage Sandra), Millicent would give to the historical a.s.sociation. Emma still read to Millicent during most afternoons. Sometimes she read from contemporary books about pregnancy, which made Millicent bark with laughter.

"Gosh," Spencer said now. "Look. I think Bill's going to take part in the wedding."

Emma laughed. "I love our crazy family," she said.

Lily checked her reflection one last time in the mirror. Marina had wanted her bridesmaids to wear sea colors. Abbie's gown was almost indigo blue, Emma's was sky blue, and Lily's was turquoise. Lily thought her color was hands down the most stunning. She wore the dangling turquoise earrings Eartha had given her, and she'd had Jason take lots of photos with his digital camera so she could email pictures to Eartha to show her just how fabulous she looked. Eartha was invited to the wedding, of course, but she was still down in Sarasota, visiting friends. She didn't want to come up to the island until July, when the social season really got under way.

With a final smile of approval at herself in the mirror, Lily turned, lifted her gown in her hands, and stepped out onto the deck. She felt like Cinderella as she went down the steps, there was something about holding her skirt up that made her feel royal, princessy.

Jason was waiting for her on the deck, looking like a movie star in his tux. She was quite aware of the looks other women gave him, the way even some of her friends invented problems with their houses and begged him to come over to help them. Some of the women were even married--but most of them weren't. Lily knew she was going to have to stop stalling and make a decision. Jason wouldn't wait forever. He'd enjoyed their two weeks in Paris, but he was an island guy, the island was in his blood and bones and heart and soul. Jason would never leave the island, not even for Lily.

Lily didn't know if that was enough of a love for her. Paris had been a revelation, and the few weeks she spent with Eartha in New York had been confusing, challenging, and exciting. She knew she needed to spend some time living and working in New York before deciding to settle down with Jason. And perhaps Jason would decide that Lily didn't love him enough. It was a chance she had to take. She was learning--slowly, with lots of anxiety and trepidation--that she could do pretty well on her own.

But today wasn't about Lily. It was about Marina and Lily's father.

Marina had been drinking champagne for the past hour, trying to calm down. She was so happy, and the day was so absolutely dazzling, she was afraid she'd cry, just right out blubber, with joy.

They had decided--they had all decided, for the girls were probably at least as interested in the ceremony as their father--to have the wedding on the beach. The girls had helped her choose this drop-dead-gorgeous, form-fitting, ivory silk sarong. On her feet were the thinnest of white leather sandals. Her hair was adorned with a glittering tiara the three girls had made for her out of seash.e.l.ls and beads.

And the girls looked stunning, all of them together in their coordinating sea colors. It was hard to look at them and not burst into tears.

In just a month, Emma was going to have a baby. Emma had asked Marina to babysit four afternoons a week, while she worked with Millicent. In her secret heart of hearts, Marina sometimes thought she was more excited about Emma's baby than about her own wedding, but of course she'd never say such a thing to Jim.

And now that Abbie was living with Howell, there had been several occasions when they'd asked Marina to stay with Harry so they could go out to dinner or a movie, and of course all of them, Howell, Abbie, and Harry, came to dinner often. Marina was learning how to create healthy food that was fun to eat, as well as the cookies and cupcakes she decorated for each season. Harry was gaining some much-needed weight, and Marina thought that just a few ounces could be attributed to her culinary creations. In a funny way, Marina was becoming a grandmother without ever having been a mother.

Lily was the one daughter with whom Marina still felt uncomfortable. They didn't quite "get" each other yet. But Marina had come a long way to achieving Lily's approval by having the clothes she'd put in storage shipped to the island. She'd invited Lily to join her as she unpacked all her horribly expensive, black designer suits. Lily had almost drooled on them, and she had screamed with joy when Marina told Lily they were all for her. They hardly had to be altered at all, and Lily looked fabulous in them.

Now they were all waiting for her. Jim, Spencer, Jason, and Howell went down the boardwalk to the beach, where the minister stood waiting in his white robe, the breeze playing with the hem. Marina's bridesmaids, Lily, Emma, and Abbie, were on the deck, all huddled together down at little Harry's level, giving him moral support for his trip down the aisle as the ring bearer. Their skirts billowed around them in a lovely flurry of blues.

Marina stepped outside.

"Marina!" Harry called. "Look! Bill is going to help me walk down the aisle!"

"Why, what a clever idea," Marina told him. "Harry, I'm so proud of you."

"I can hold his leash in my left hand and the rings in my right hand!" Harry a.s.sured her.

"Perfect." Marina nodded to the three sisters, who lined up for the procession. Here we are, Marina thought, four women, one little boy, and a dog. Perhaps an unusual wedding procession, but after all, there were so many kinds of weddings on this earth, and so many kinds of families.

The guitarist began to play Beethoven's "Ode to Joy." The congregation rose. They turned, looking so expectantly--so happily!--toward Marina, who lifted her head, smiled radiantly, and followed her family down the aisle toward the beach. As she walked, she could see, just behind the altar, the wide blue ocean sparkling in the sun.

About the Author.

NANCY THAYER is the New York Times bestselling author of Summer House, Moon Sh.e.l.l Beach, The Hot Flash Club, The Hot Flash Club Strikes Again, Hot Flash Holidays, The Hot Flash Club Chills Out, and Between Husbands and Friends. She lives on Nantucket.

ALSO BY NANCY THAYER.

Summer House.

Moon Sh.e.l.l Beach

The Hot Flash Club Chills Out.

Hot Flash Holidays

The Hot Flash Club Strikes Again.

The Hot Flash Club

Custody

Between Husbands and Friends.