Nick has remained on his feet, and he’s looking uncharacteristically flustered now, as if he has no idea why he’s left a patio full of people dumbfounded. Hannah appears flustered, too. Her triumphant smile has begun to contract, like ice before it starts to crack.
“Gosh,” he says. “I think this might be the only time in my life that the Keatons have been at a loss for words. I’m sure it’s in part because Hannah and I only met two months ago. But in that short period, we’ve spent every possible moment together, and we know what we’ve got is very special.”
Someone clears his throat. I watch as Ash reaches for his wineglass and slowly raises it.
“It is a bit of a shock, Nick, but we love you, and of course we’re very pleased for both of you,” he says. “We wish you great happiness and look forward to getting to know Hannah better over the coming months—and years.”
“Hear, hear,” Gabe says once more tonight, though this time there’s a catch in his voice. He awkwardly raises his own glass in salute, and I notice Blake and Wendy do the same, both of them smiling politely. Obviously, they’re still in the afterglow of their baby announcement.
“Thank you so much everyone,” Hannah says. “I couldn’t love Nick more, and I’m thrilled to be joining this amazing family.”
There are a few more “Hear hears,” and I notice Keira raise her own glass. I’m unable to see either Marcus or Claire, though as far as I know, they’re following suit. But I can’t bring myself to fake it. Instead I lean down toward Henry, as if I’m answering another question of his.
“So you know what this means, right?” I whisper to him.
“Uncle Nick’s getting married?”
“Yup.”
“Oh. Wow.”
“Yeah, wow.”
To keep from having to look up, I go out of my way to help Henry, using a fork to slide chicken and veggies off the second kabob stick on his plate. I hear Blake ask Nick and Hannah if they’ve set a date yet.
“Not yet,” Nick replies. Thank god for small favors. “We need to determine what Hannah’s shooting schedule will be once the show is picked up. And we still need to go ring shopping.”
“Are you from this part of the country, Hannah?” Ash asks.
“No, Miami, actually,” she replies. “Sadly, my parents both passed away, but I have a wonderful sister, and I’m looking forward to introducing Nick to her.”
“Well, we look forward to meeting her, as well,” Ash says.
“You all set with food?” I murmur to Henry, still awarding him my full attention.
“Yeah.” He wrinkles his little brow, looking like Gabe as he does it, and stares down the length of the table. Then he presses his mouth so tightly against my ear that it tickles. “Can I ask you another question?”
“Of course.” Please, I think, give me something else to do. Tell me you’re tired and you want me to take you up to bed and read you a story. I don’t want to be here for one more second.
“Does Gee wish Uncle Nick wasn’t doing it?”
“Why—?” But instead of finishing, I lift my head and follow his gaze to the other end of the table, where my mother-in-law is now in my line of sight, standing and holding up the bowl of potato salad.
“Who’d like more?” she asks. “Anyone?”
She’s smiling, but I can tell, just as Henry obviously can, that she’s pasted it on, using only the muscles around her mouth and not her eyes. She’s not happy about this turn in events, not in the least, despite whatever bonding she did with Hannah during their ladies’ garden tour.
I look toward Gabe next, and finally we lock eyes. Part of me expects an expression that says, You were right, we’ve got major trouble here. But all he does is smile wanly.
The potato salad bowl ends up being passed down the table, with no one taking seconds, and the conversation shifts awkwardly to how delicious the meal is.
Then, miraculously, from off in the distance, there’s a muted rumble of thunder, and seconds later a couple of fat drops of rain plop onto the table. A mad scramble ensues as we all grab plates, bowls, and utensils, and Bonnie and her helper rush out to assist us. In theater it’s called deus ex machina, or “god from the machine,” a plot device once frequently used by ancient Greek and Roman playwrights whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem in a story is suddenly and abruptly resolved by an unexpected and seemingly unlikely occurrence. No respectable modern play relies on one, but right now all I can do is be grateful.
At first everyone ends up in the kitchen, setting plates and platters onto countertops, but then Claire and Bonnie herd us all out of the room, promising that coffee and dessert will be served shortly.
We cluster in the large living room, a space decorated invitingly in cream, mint, and lavender and featuring vases of Claire’s flowers on several surfaces. After realizing that Gabe is missing in action, I check the long corridor that runs perpendicular to the main hall, poking my head into the den but not seeing him there. I finally locate him on the screened porch at the east end of the house, staring out at the rain.
“Hey,” I say, coming up next to him. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I guess.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “It’s just a lot to digest.”
There’s almost a pulse to his unease, I realize, one I can practically feel. Good, maybe he’s finally catching on to how big of an issue the Nick-Hannah romance is.
“Did you have any sense this was coming?” I ask.
“Of course not. I would have told you.”
“Gabe, it wasn’t an accusation. I was just wondering whether in hindsight you realize there were hints he was this serious.”
“No, there weren’t. I mean, he’s clearly besotted—you couldn’t miss that from the International Space Station—but I’ve seen him that way before.”
“How do you think your parents feel? Your mom seems to be putting on a brave face, but something tells me she’s pretty dismayed.”
He shrugs. “They know Nick’s a smart guy—my dad wouldn’t have brought him into the business otherwise. But they’re also aware that in his personal life, he doesn’t always think things through.”
“Is there some way to convince him to take his time?”
“I’m not sure of the best tack.” He’s continued to face the lawn as we’ve been speaking, but he turns now in my direction. “But I’ll tell you what’s not going to help? Stuff like looking totally bummed and refusing to join a toast in their honor.”
He’s right, I know. “I’m sorry. I’m just not any good at pretending I’m happy about this.”
“I thought you were an actress.”
“That’s a cheap shot, Gabe,” I say as anger flares in me.
“Agreed. Sorry. But we’re all going to have to fake it for now. And who knows? Maybe it will turn out better than we imagine. My parents only knew each other six months before they were married, and look how well that’s worked—”
“Wait, you really think the issue is that Nick and Hannah haven’t had enough time to get to know each other? And not that she’s untrustworthy?”