Chapter 21

July 2023

My thirty-sixth birthday morning starts with a call from Wes.

I hold the phone in front of my face, watching his name flash there along with a photo we took years ago, back when we were happy.

I don't answer it, but I don't send it to voicemail either. I don't want Wes to know I've seen his call, and so it rings and rings, then eventually stops. I breathe out a sigh of relief, but then the phone starts ringing again, Wes trying a second time. I ignore this call too, and finally it also stops. A moment later, I'm alerted that I have a voicemail. I'm surprised because Wes never leaves voicemails. I wonder if it's an emergency. But if it were, Wes would text me too, and when he doesn't, I know I can ignore his message.

I'd like to ignore today too, but no one lets you do that when it's your birthday. Between Facebook and calendar reminders, I know I'll be getting a steady stream of alerts and Happy Birthday texts, balloons floating up along the screen when I check them.

I don't want to deal with that, so instead I get up and put on some tennis clothes and head to the club.

"What are you doing here, Birthday Girl?" Matt asks when I walk on court. "I thought I told you to rest today?"

I shrug. "Didn't feel like it."

"How's the rib?"

"It's fine."

He gives me a look like he knows it isn't, and I stare right back. No professional athlete plays pain-free all the time. And though it's been a minute since I could feel every muscle in my body, I prefer this version of myself.

"All right," Matt says. "But take it easy."

I walk onto the court where Cindy's waiting for me. She's happy I'm here, I can see, thinking she's going to beat me today since I defaulted yesterday. And maybe she will. But this old girl still has some tricks up her sleeve, and Cindy shouldn't count her wins just yet.

When I get back to the house, having split sets with Cindy, much to her frustration, I shower and then come down for a late breakfast. Aunt Tracy's set a place for me at the kitchen island, and I can see my favorite pancake mix sitting ready on the counter.

"You didn't have to do this."

"It's your birthday. I always make you pancakes."

I take a seat and look down at my plate. There's an envelope there, and my heart catches in my throat. My name is written on the front, but it's not my mother's handwriting. It's Tracy's. "Thanks for the card."

"Of course."

I open it. It's one of those silly cards, full of puns and jokes about aging. Innocent. I smile and tuck it next to my plate. Aunt Tracy's heating up a pan for the pancakes, and there's a pot of syrup warming on the stove. It smells heavenly.

"I've always meant to ask you," I say, popping a raspberry into my mouth from a large bowl that's full of them. "Those notes that Mom left for me, did you know about those?"

Aunt Tracy turns from the stove. She's wearing a benign smile, part sad, part reminiscing. "She gave them to your father before she died. I think that there were three or four for each of you."

"Three or four? I only got two."

"Perhaps I'm mistaken."

"Or William forgot to give them to me?"

She shakes her head. "I'd always remind him, each year."

I want to cross-examine her. Was it three or four or two? But what's to be gained from that? She didn't hide anything from me. And if my father let a card or two slip through the cracks, it's hard to blame him. My mother died over twenty years ago. That's a long time to keep the faith, especially for a man like him, always thinking of himself first. But it also feels odd knowing that there might be other messages for me somewhere in this house. I still haven't been able to bring myself to go into her private room, the most likely location. I know I can't avoid it forever.

"Where's William?" I ask as Aunt Tracy pours several large rounds into the smoking pan.

"Charlotte took him to check out one of those retirement communities in Quogue."

"I'm shocked."

"At what?"

"Not sure. That Charlotte did it. That he was willing to go."

She flips over the pancakes. "Not much choice for both of them. Time is ticking away."

"I have to find somewhere to live myself."

She bends and pulls a plate from the oven, then stacks the pancakes onto it, adding syrup and then berries. She puts it down in front of me.

I inhale deeply, then pick up my knife and fork. "This smells amazing. Thank you."

"Of course, my dear. It is always my pleasure."

I take a bite and close my eyes at the memories. My birthdays stack on top of one another. "Why didn't you go with them?"

Aunt Tracy puts a pancake on another plate and sits next to me. "I went the other day and picked out the house that I want. Charlotte is showing your father to let him pick it for himself."

I laugh. "You've managed it perfectly. But you don't have to move there if you don't want to."

"He needs me." She cuts into her pancake. "And we're used to each other. I'll keep up the old rhythm, spending the winter down south, coming here for the summer." Tracy sold her apartment in New York ten years ago and bought a condo in a retirement village in Florida. October to April, she flies there with the Canadian snowbirds and nurtures her tan. I'd seen her down there once or twice when I was playing. I'm fairly certain there's a man in her Florida life, but she's never mentioned him.

I put down my utensils and put my arm around her shoulders. "I don't know what we would have done without you. Truly." I kiss her weathered cheek. "I love you. I don't tell you that enough."

She squeezes her body closer, then pulls away. "Enough with that now."

We return to eating, and before long half my stack is gone. I have that uncomfortable feeling in my stomach, like I've eaten too much, but I can't stop myself.

"Where will you live?" Aunt Tracy asks.

"I'm not sure. I thought I was going to have to find a place I could afford on my teacher's salary, but now … I guess I have more options."

"You don't have to go back to teaching if you don't want to."

"You're right. I like lots of it. The kids are special, and being a part of their life is mostly great. But there are bad parts, like any job. Too much to do, too few resources … But I couldn't do what Charlotte does …"

"You mean nothing?"

"It sounds awful to say that."

She puts her hand on mine. "She doesn't think that, though. Charlotte is happy in her life."

I sit back in my chair, this information a surprise. But it shouldn't be. Tracy's right. Charlotte is perfectly content, and I shouldn't judge her. I'm the one who's unhappy. "I'm glad she's happy."

"Me too."

"You think things will work out with Ann long term?"

"I'm not sure …" She frowns. "She's an interesting one, that girl."

"Why do you think Charlotte's never come out to us?"

"Does she have to?"

"You're right, she doesn't."

Tracy smiles. "Now, what are you going to do with the rest of your birthday?"

"Clean out another room of the house?"

"I hope you're joking."

I wasn't, but she's right. Today of all days, I shouldn't lock myself in this house. "How about a bike ride and then I'll go to that dinner everyone wants me to attend?"

"That sounds better."

"It's a plan, then."

We touch shoulders again, and then I rest my head on hers. Sometimes I forget, when I'm missing my mother, that I've got one here, next to me, and I've had her all along.

I show up to dinner at the club nervous and armed with the past. I decided to wear my mother's dress, the one I found when I was cleaning out the clothes in her bedroom. I'm wearing my hair loose again, enjoying the feel of it on my back. After I applied my makeup, I stepped back and appreciated what I saw. A healthier version of me, a younger version, like old paint had been stripped away in a restoration. And I do feel partially restored. I'm happy I came home, despite the minefields. I needed this time to make some decisions about my life that are more than just a flight reflex.

Before I left the house, I went through my jewelry box, looking for something to add. My engagement and wedding ring were there, and also a small bag I don't remember putting inside. When I opened it, I found the tennis bracelet Ash gave me for my sixteenth birthday. The diamonds glowed in the sunlight swimming in through my window, and I put it on my wrist. And then, impulsively, I opened another bag and took out Fred's charm bracelet. It has four charms on it. I questioned myself as I slip it on my other wrist. What am I doing? Last night the dress, today the bracelet?

But Shh, Olivia, I told myself. Two can play at this game.

I closed the jewelry box and finished getting ready.

The club is lit up and vivid. There's a band playing on a raised dais, and waiters passing champagne and hors d'oeuvres. Matt's here, looking dapper in a summer suit, and I wave to him across the lawn. He gives me a thumb's-up, then makes a complicated hand gesture that indicates that we'll talk later.

We've arrived at the end of the cocktail hour, and it's almost time to take our seats. We find Sophie and Colin in the crowd. Sophie is glowing, pregnant with a secret, while Colin is holding the long neck of a beer, peering out at the dunes and the ocean.

"You look happy," I say to Sophie.

She gives me a spontaneous hug. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks. What's going on?"

"Colin agreed to look for a job elsewhere. He's going to tell his dad tomorrow."

"That's good news."

"Right? I'm so happy. Somewhere else, he can really succeed, you know? Be at the level he's supposed to. And now that we have the money, we don't have to be so beholden to them."

"That's great, Sophie."

"Did you have a good day?"

"Not bad."

"I'm glad you came tonight."

"Me too." So far, anyway. I take a glass off a passing tray. "Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Did you get cards from Mom on your birthday? I mean after she died?"

Sophie purses her mouth. "Yes, a few."

"Do you remember how many?"

"Three? Four? I have them somewhere." She takes a sip of her wine. "How many did you get?"

"Two."

"Huh. Maybe I'm remembering wrong."

She's being nice, but I can feel the sadness of the slight creeping up my neck. "Maybe."

"What's this about, Olivia?"

"I don't know … being back here, I guess. Going through all of her things." I motion to what I'm wearing. "This is her dress."

"You look like her."

"No, you do."

"Can't we both look like her?"

My throat tightens. "Of course we can."

The lights above us dim, the universal signal to take our seats. Sophie gives me another quick hug, then pulls me to our table, somewhere in the middle of the crowd. Fred and Lucy are already there, their heads tipped toward each other.

I stifle a burst of jealousy and sit down next to Lucy.

"Olivia! You look fabulous."

"Thanks, you too." Her makeup is flawless, and she's wearing a peach-colored chunky necklace around her neck that accentuates her skin tone and pairs perfectly with the sea-green halter dress she's wearing. "The dress was my mother's."

"How perfect. Fred, doesn't Olivia look fantastic?"

He turns his head slowly toward me. "Lovely as always."

Lucy gives him a playful tap on his chest. "Fred! What's wrong with you? She's glowing."

"It's fine, Lucy," I say. "I do look a lot older than the last time Fred saw me."

"What? No. You're one of those ageless beauties."

Fred and I make eye contact. I raise my arm slowly to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, so that Fred can see what I'm wearing on my wrist. "You're sweet."

Fred's pupils contract, and I know I've wounded him.

"Happy birthday, Olivia," he says, his eyes still on my wrist.

"Yes," Lucy says. "Happy birthday!"

"Thanks."

Lucy grabs a bottle of champagne from the bucket in front of us. "We have to toast to Olivia!"

Charlotte and Ann smile. They're holding hands under the table and giving each other these adorable looks, and I'm both happy for her and sad. The empty seat next to me is like a symbol of my failure. Thirty-six, separated, soon to be divorced.

It sounds like the beginning of a Bob Dylan song.

Lucy pours the champagne and everyone raises a glass. We drink and then the subject turns away from me, and for that I'm grateful. I ask Charlotte about the visit to the retirement community, and she tells me that William says he'll be happy to move there. Though it's farther away from Southampton than he'd like, he thinks it might be best to live somewhere else, likely because he doesn't want all his old friends to see his reduced circumstances.

I can feel Fred listening to our conversation, his head angled toward us, though he's talking to Lucy, and I wonder if he's uncomfortable. But when I sneak a peek, he averts his eyes.

"Any idea where you're going to live, Charlotte?" I ask.

"I've been thinking of Sag Harbor."

"I know some great properties there," Lucy says. "In fact, I have the perfect place for you."

Charlotte leans forward. "Where?"

She mentions an address. "I helped do the interiors a couple of years ago, and I heard they want to sell. It isn't officially on the market yet, but it's near the water and totally your taste."

"Can you get me in before it goes on the market?"

"I think so."

Lucy turns to Fred. "Weren't you saying you wanted to check out a winery in Sag Harbor?"

"Oh, um, yes, my friend James bought it a year ago. I haven't had a chance to go. The Benedict Winery."

"Oh!" Sophie says. "I've heard their wine is wonderful. We should all go." She turns to Colin, who's been uncharacteristically quiet all night. "Shouldn't we, Colin? Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"Yes, it does."

"So, we'll make a day of it? Next week, or the week after? We can check out this house for Charlotte and then go to the winery … if you don't mind us tagging along, that is?"

Everyone looks at Fred. "I'll have to check in with James about the date, but yes, I'm sure he'd love to have all of you."

"You'll come too, Olivia?"

"Can I think about it?"

"What's to think about?" Sophie says. "Wine, Sag Harbor. Sounds perfect."

"I agree," a voice says above me as two hands rest heavily on the top of my chair. "Room for one more?"

My heart freezes, and the smiles around the table fall like dominoes as they take in who's standing behind me.

Wes.