CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Soon the musicians would play Pachelbel’s Canon as she walked down the aisle with her father’s handkerchief—something blue—wrapped around a bouquet of white roses. “Have and hold . . . honor and cherish . . . till death do you part,” the minister would say.
Nellie was leaving for the airport in a few hours. She tucked her new red bikini into one of her two suitcases and checked her to-do list. Her wedding gown had been shipped ahead to the resort by FedEx, and the concierge had confirmed its arrival. Her toiletries were all that remained to pack.
Faint white rectangles showed on the walls where her pictures had hung. She was leaving behind her bed, dresser, and a lamp. Sam had a lead on a new roommate, a Pilates instructor who was coming by tomorrow. If the new roommate didn’t want Nellie’s furniture, she had promised she’d arrange to have the items hauled away. “I’m going to pay rent until someone else moves in, too,” she’d insisted.
She could tell Sam didn’t want to accept the offer, especially since Richard was paying for her trip to Florida and had just covered the cost of the locksmith.
Nellie knew Sam couldn’t afford the apartment on her own. “Come on,” Nellie had said as Sam sat on Nellie’s bed, watching her finish packing. “It’s only fair.”
“Thanks.” Sam had given Nellie a quick, hard squeeze. “I hate good-byes.”
“I’ll see you in a few days,” Nellie protested.
“That’s not what I mean.”
Nellie nodded. “I know.”
A moment later, Sam was gone.
As Nellie wrote out that month’s rent check, the phone rang. She’d been staring at her signature, realizing she might never again sign her old last name. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, she thought. It sounded so dignified.
Nellie checked caller ID before answering. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, lovey, just wanted to double-check your flight number. It’s American, right?”
“Yeah. Hang on.” Nellie opened her laptop and scrolled down through her emails to find the airline’s confirmation, then read the information aloud. “It gets in at seven-fifteen.”
“Will you have had dinner?”
“Only if you consider a package of peanuts a meal.”
“I can cook for you.”
“Let’s keep it simple—why don’t we just pick up something on the way home? . . . By the way, did you pick out your spa treatments yet? Richard booked us massages and facials, but you need to let them know if you want a deep-tissue or Swedish or whatever. . . . Did you see the brochure he emailed you?”
“He doesn’t need to do that for me. You know I have trouble sitting still for those kinds of things.”
It was true; Nellie’s mom’s preferred form of relaxation would be taking a walk on the beach at sunset, rather than lying facedown on a masseuse’s table. But Richard hadn’t known that. He’d wanted to do something special. How could Nellie tell him her mother had rejected his gesture?
“Try it. I bet you’ll like it more than you think.”
“Just sign me up for whatever you’re getting.”
Nellie knew she was far from the only daughter who chafed at what seemed to be veiled maternal barbs. “So much processed sugar,” her mother had murmured the last time Nellie ate a bag of Skittles in front of her, and she’d asked more than once how Nellie could stand the “claustrophobia” of Manhattan.
“Please at least act excited about it in front of Richard.”
“Lovey, you seem so concerned by what he thinks all the time.”
“I’m not concerned. I’m appreciative! He’s so good to me.”
“Did he ask if you wanted to spend the day before your wedding getting a facial?”
“What? Why does that even matter?” Only Nellie’s mother could get her so riled up about a stupid spa treatment. No, not stupid! It was Richard’s gift.
“Let me just say something. You’ve told me that facials make you break out. Why wouldn’t you tell that to Richard? And he bought a house you hadn’t even seen. Do you want to live in the suburbs?”
Nellie exhaled through her teeth but her mother continued, “I’m sorry, but he seems like he has such a strong personality.”
“You’ve only met him once!” Nellie protested.
“You’re still so young, though. I’m worried you might fade away. . . . I know you love him, but please stay true to yourself, too.”
Nellie was not going to do this; she’d walk away from the fight her mother seemed determined to pick. “I have to finish packing. But I’ll see you in a few hours.” After some wine on the plane has fortified me.
Nellie hung up the phone and went into the bathroom to gather up her toiletries. She arranged her cosmetics, toothpaste, and lotions in her travel kit, then glanced in the mirror above the sink. Despite the fact that she hadn’t been sleeping, her skin looked perfect.
She strode back into the bedroom, picked up the phone, and called the resort’s salon to cancel her facial. “Can I get a seaweed body wrap instead?”
She was only spending a few days with her mother before Richard would fly down and they headed to the resort for the wedding; she’d be able to get through it. Plus, Sam and her aunt would be flying in a day early and could help serve as buffers.
She laid the toiletry kit in the still-open suitcase and tried to close it. But she could barely zip it halfway.
“Dammit!” She tried to force down the lid.
The problem was, she still had no idea where they’d be going for the honeymoon. She’d guessed someplace tropical because of Richard’s comment about the bikini, but even warm-weather islands could turn chilly at night. She’d packed casual dresses, beach cover-ups, athletic wear, a few evening outfits in case there was a dress code, as well as heels and flip-flops.
She’d have to start over. She began pulling out of her suitcase all the items she’d carefully folded. Three fancy outfits instead of four, she decided, also tossing one of the pairs of heels into the brown packing box by her closet. And the floppy beach hat that had looked so cute in the J. Crew catalog might not make the cut.
She should’ve figured this out sooner; her plane was leaving in three hours and Richard was on his way to pick her up and drive her to the airport. She refolded her clothes and managed to fit everything but the floppy hat in her bag. She stuck it on top of the dresser; she’d leave it for Sam. Now she just needed to double-check that she hadn’t forgotten anything, since she wouldn’t be returning to her apartment again, and—
Her father’s handkerchief.
A few mesh pockets lined the inside of her suitcase, and she was certain she’d tucked it into one. But she hadn’t seen it when she’d unpacked the bag.
She unzipped her suitcase again and felt around for the soft pouch, her movements growing frantic.
All her clothes were getting wrinkled, but she shoved them aside to grope inside the mesh pockets. She couldn’t find the pouch; her socks and bras and panties were still there, but nothing else.
She sat on the edge of her bed and dropped her head into her hands. She’d packed most of her things a few nights ago. She’d been so conscious of that blue square of fabric; it was the one irreplaceable item she was bringing for the wedding.
A knock on her open bedroom door made her gasp. Her head jerked up.
“Nellie?”
It was only Richard.
She hadn’t heard him come in; he must have used the new key she’d given him.
“I can’t find my dad’s handkerchief!” she cried.
“Where did you last see it?”
“In my suitcase. But it isn’t there anymore. I tore everything apart, and we have to leave for the airport, and if I can’t—”
Richard looked around the room, then lifted up the suitcase. She saw the square of blue and closed her eyes.
“Thank you. Did I really not see it? I thought I looked there, but I was so frazzled, I just . . .”
“It’s okay now. And you have a plane to catch.”
Then Richard walked over to the dresser and picked up her new beach hat, spinning it around on his index finger. He placed it on her head. “Are you wearing this on the flight? You look adorable.”
“I am now.” It even went with her jeans and striped T-shirt and the slip-on Converse sneakers she always wore when she flew, to save time during the security check.
Her mother didn’t get it. Richard fixed everything. She’d be safe with him no matter where they lived.
He lifted up her suitcases and headed for the door. “I know you had some good memories in this place. We’ll make new ones, though. Better ones. Ready?”
She was stressed and tired, her mother’s comments still stung, and she’d never lost those damn eight pounds. But Nellie nodded and followed him out the door. Richard was sending a mover to pick up the brown packing boxes she’d left stacked in her closet, as well as the things she’d put in his apartment building’s storage unit, and deliver them to the new house.
“I parked a couple of blocks away.” Richard set her bags down near the curb. “Be back in two minutes, babe.”
He strode off, and Nellie looked around her street. A delivery van idled a few doors down and a couple of men were wrestling an oversize chair out of its back.
But other than for those guys and a woman waiting at the bus stop with her back to Nellie, the street was quiet.
Nellie closed her eyes and tilted back her head. Feeling the early-afternoon sun against her cheeks. Waiting for the sound of her name to tell her it was time to go.