Chapter 37

August 2023

There are more people at the cocktail party tonight, sensing that they're about to be over for good. All the familiar faces and ones I've never taken the time to learn.

It took an effort to be here after reading that letter from my mother. I took the pages back to my room and lined them up against the ones missing from her diary. They matched exactly as I knew they would. So now I know why my mother wanted me to wait to get married. Because she wanted me to choose myself and not be trapped by circumstance. I don't know what to do with this information. Tell my sisters? Bring it up with my father? Or tuck it away like she tucked the pages into her favorite book and left them hidden, maybe forever.

When I come outside, Wes is across the lawn, talking to Charlotte and Ann. Colin and Sophie are making the rounds with Aunt Tracy, like a leave-taking. My father is standing on the veranda, drink in hand, looking out over it all. What must he be thinking? Despite our confab in the library, I don't feel any closer to knowing him or his thoughts. But maybe that's okay. I don't have to access the thoughts of everyone around me all the time to know them.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Fred asks, appearing at my elbow like the ghost that he is.

"When did you get here?"

"Just now." He's dressed more casually than I've seen him in a while, more like the Fred on the beach a couple of weeks ago than the Fred of the club, of finance, of stranger.

"Where were you?"

"I had some business in London."

"Ah."

"So?"

I look back out over the lawn. "So, what?"

"Are they plotting?" He nods toward Charlotte and Wes and Ann.

Charlotte has her back to them, talking to one of the neighbors, and Wes and Ann's heads are tipped together. They do look like they're in a conspiracy, but that's silly.

"What would they have to plot about?"

"I don't know … Only, Olivia … are you sure you know everything about …"

"About what?"

He hesitates. "Ann."

"She makes Charlotte happy, that's all I need to know."

"But have you—"

I cut him off, exasperated. "What are you trying to say, Fred? Are you worried she's some gold-digger after my sister?"

Fred doesn't say anything, just stares back grimly.

"She's a lawyer. Successful by the looks of it."

"Appearances can be deceiving."

"Honestly? Who cares? If Charlotte is happy, what does it matter?"

"I just think you should be careful."

"I'm always careful."

"Not always."

We stare at each other, neither of us saying what we want to. This is what there is between us. Undercurrents, tensions, things that mean one thing and are said as another.

"Just because you're disappointed about your own love life …"

Fred arches an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I heard about Lucy and James."

"I see."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"No."

"Come on, you guys were dating, and your friend swoops in and … Plus, I thought James was still mourning Fanny? So much for lifelong devotion …"

Fred looks me directly in the eye, stopping my thought in its tracks. "Olivia, I could not care in the least what Lucy and James do. No, that's not right. I'm happy for them. James is important to me, and Lucy is a great girl. I hope they'll be happy together."

His voice is full of emotion, but I can't quite tell what it's directed at. Me, them, himself?

"Who's going to be happy?" Wes says, putting his arm around my shoulders and holding me close to him.

"Lucy and James," I say.

"Ann was telling me about that. How delicious." He laughs, but he's the only one. "What? Not a good story?"

"It was rather sudden," I say. "And she's recovering from a concussion."

"Proximity, illness, James fretting over her. It's like something out of a romance novel, them alone in that massive winery … Anything could happen. Right, Fred?"

"Wes …"

"What? Fred and I are friends now."

"You are?"

"We fought it out and made up, didn't we?"

Fred nods slowly. "We did."

"And where was I when all this happened? The makeup?"

Wes shrugs. "Not sure. Anyway, are you pining for Lucy, Fred? Going to fisticuffs with James?"

"Are you drunk?" I ask him.

"What? No. Just poking fun. This place needs more fun."

"That it does," Fred says. "I'll see you later, Olivia. Wes."

He touches me briefly on the arm, then walks away.

"What's going on?" I say to Wes.

"What? Nothing."

"You talked to him after the fight?"

Wes catches up my hand. "Briefly. The next morning."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think it was relevant."

"And what were you and Ann talking about?"

"Just gossip. The party. Nothing."

"Which?"

"What?"

"Was it gossip or the party or nothing?"

He lets my hand go. "Why are you cross-examining me?"

"Because you're acting weird."

"Is weird so bad?"

"Depends on what it's about."

"I'm just … happy?" His eyes dance as he says this, smiling down at me.

"You are?"

"Yes." He reaches for me again, pulling me to him. "Aren't you? Soon, this will all be done, and we can move on."

I rest my head against his chest. Despite everything, my body still reacts to him in the same way, that mixed feeling of being safe and attracted. I close my eyes and try to block out everything. The sounds of the party, the lingering presence of Fred, all the questions that still swirl in my mind when we're together.

I almost get there. I almost do.

But then, deep in his shirt, I catch the scent of something floral.

Someone else's perfume.

And even though I know it's probably nothing, just someone from the party who put a hand on him, or maybe from the club, whoever is doing his laundry, it makes me pull away.

It makes me remember when all I want to do is forget.