A Slender Thread (38 page)

They called each other less frequently now. Why would he want to tell her about people she didn't know? They were living in separate worlds. If they were meant to be together, surely they could survive a summer apart. Besides, the time alone wasn't all bad. Margot remembered the relief she had felt after Teddy was gone. That solitude was like drinking a glass of clear water after months of acute thirst. Her days were finally hers to fill—no one telling her what to do and what mattered. She never wanted to be under that kind of pressure again. Fighting off loneliness now and then was nothing compared to that.

Some days she practiced drawing, and did exercises from a workbook she had used in an art class she took when she first moved to New York. Her paints continued to lure her, and she could feel her breath quicken when she'd been able to mix just the right shade of green. She had set up different still-life arrangements. Perhaps it was the summer heat, and her recollections of childhood that kept pushing to the surface, but she found herself more and more attempting to capture scenes of Bow Lake. A combination of memory and old photographs served as her muse.

She had gone back to working on the picture of the moon path at the lake. Painting the water itself was extremely difficult, all the more so because the view was at night. The hardest part was getting the color, or the noncolor, of the lake. Water was so elemental, so basic, and at times totally impossible to paint. The moonlight on the lake was an entirely different problem. How to achieve that silvery glow, brilliant, completely mesmerizing as if drifted into the distance?

She took the canvas off her easel and propped it up at the table. Stepping back, she considered the composition. Maybe the image was too stark, too bold. What if she was farther away from the lake and viewed the moon path through the trees? She had no photos of that view to work from. Seeing the moon on the lake once again in real life might be her only hope.

The kettle whistled just as Margot's cell phone rang. Whisking the kettle off the burner, she flipped open her phone, thinking it must be Oliver calling from the West Coast. Instead, it was Alex.

“My Chicago deal went through.”

“That's great,” she said, hearing the excitement in his voice. “Are you here in town?”

“Yeah. I know it's late. I've been meeting with auditors and got the final approval. I was hoping if you were free we could meet for a drink. I'm flying home in the morning.”

Margot hesitated. She'd caught up with a few old friends since Oliver had been away, but she hadn't been out at all recently. Suddenly, taking a break seemed like a good idea. “I'm at my old apartment,” she said. “I've been painting.”

“Is there someplace near you?”

“There's a little French bistro, Chez Antoinette on Lexington. This late, I'm sure it wouldn't be busy.”

“Maybe some dessert, too? We had sandwiches in the office hours ago. I'm starved.”

“Okay,” she said. “Half hour from now?” She gave Alex the address and went into the bedroom to dress. The gray linen pants she'd had on earlier were a wrinkled mess. She slipped them on anyway. This was Alex, her brother-in-law. It was dark out and he wouldn't care what she wore. She turned up the collar of her white shirt, making it look marginally more sophisticated,

Somber thoughts began to darken her mood. She remembered the awkwardness of meeting Alex at the bar last spring. Would that happen again? Suddenly she doubted what she was doing. Her hands trembled as she rolled the cuffs of her shirt. Seeing him alone didn't seem like a good idea at all.

She glanced around her living room—paint, canvases, brushes everywhere. She drew in her breath and realized all that she had accomplished here. Somehow reassured, she pushed aside her ridiculous thoughts. Meeting Alex would be fine. His deal had been successful. He and Lacey had had their trip to Italy. Why not take a moment to celebrate? Margot picked up her keys and headed out into the night.

Alex was seated at a tiny table by the front window when she arrived. “I ordered a bottle of Prosecco,” he said a little nervously, half standing to greet her, but pulling back, as if he too remembered the awkward ending of their previous encounter in the bar, when Margot had gotten up from the table and fled. “Hope that's okay. They're bringing a dessert menu too.”

“Sure.” She smiled and sat. “Congratulations. So you sold the company?”

“Finally. It's been a real roller-coaster ride.” His hair was windblown. There had been a thunderstorm in the afternoon, but warm, humid air was still blowing in from the south. The evening was tropical. He wore a blazer over a pale blue shirt, and no tie. “I wanted to celebrate. I'm glad you were free.”

His eyes were fixed upon her. Maybe this had been a mistake. She felt color rise to her face. “So how was Italy?”

The waiter arrived with the sparkling wine. Alex tasted his and nodded. The waiter filled her glass and returned to top off Alex's.

“I guess I shouldn't have ordered Italian wine at a French place.” He shrugged. “Italy was great. We had some really good days. At times Lacey was almost her old self.”

Margot sipped her wine, imagining the family exploring sun-drenched villages a world away. “So the trip helped.”

“For a while.” The lines in his forehead deepened. “On our last night in Rome, it totally fell apart. Lacey sort of closed up and became angry all over again.” He rubbed his eyes, as if exhausted from the memory.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, really. I guess going home reminded her of what we would face there.”

“Sometimes being away makes everything feel different—the power of a place.” Margot thought of Bow Lake. Soon she would be there with Lacey.

“Yeah, but we're home now.”

“Lacey loves her home. Don't forget that.”

Alex cleared his throat. “Have you talked to Wink lately?”

Margot and Lacey had been exchanging e-mails recently instead of using the phone and Margot realized she had fallen out of touch with the girls.

He went on. “She's upset again about college. Doesn't want to go.”

“I thought she was over that.”

“She's tried to talk to Lacey. They both get too upset.”

“What do you think?”

“What's wrong with taking a year off?”

“Alex, you know how I love the girls, but this is something you all need to figure out. I've already upset Lacey with my meddling.”

“It's not like that.” Alex hunched forward and raised the dessert menu the waiter had left on the table to examine it more closely. He looked worn down. “I've missed you, Margot.” He tossed the menu down.

“You're all managing fine without me.”

“Not true.” He lifted his head and met her gaze. “I'm really glad to see you. You're the only one who hasn't changed.” He reached across the table and took her hand.

For a moment, he was the young Alex, smelling of sunshine, youthful and lean, pulling her close to him in the dark long ago at Bow Lake. “Alex. No.” She withdrew her hand and picked up the menu.

“Shit, I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing anymore.”

“It's okay,” she continued, her voice growing stronger. “You need to talk to Lacey, not me.”

“It's not that simple.”

“You should be celebrating this deal with her, too.”

“She doesn't care. It's always the girls. It's weaving.”

“Stop it. You love her, Alex. I saw you both at graduation. When the girls received their diplomas, I saw the way you looked at Lacey, the way you took her hand. I'll never forget that.”

Alex lowered his head and closed his eyes. “It's just not working now. This goddamned illness has made life impossible.”

“Hard,” she said. “Not impossible.”

“Dessert for you folks?” The waiter had appeared at their table. He looked sweaty and frazzled. Margot smiled briefly and shook her head, as did Alex. The waiter reached for the bottle of Prosecco and refilled their glasses.

“Will you be okay?” she asked when they were alone again.

Alex said nothing. His pressed his lips together and looked away.

“You have all those years between you,” she said softly. “You've built a life together. That's a gift. You mustn't ruin it.”

“Maybe I already have.” Alex's face grew slack.

Margot shook her head, thinking how she might have ruined what she and Oliver had together. This time she reached across the table and held fast to Alex's arm. “You haven't ruined it. Alex, you love her. She loves you.”

He stared at her hand. “I'm sorry about . . .”

“Don't be sorry about anything. Just go home to Lacey.” Margot pulled her hand back and felt relieved. At one time she had wanted this man more than anything. Not this man, but the boy, Alex, from a different time and place. There had been that moment of attraction between them. It no longer mattered. She thought of the moon path, that twinkling light on a warm summer night, dazzling, ephemeral, then gone. What always remained was the lake—deep, mysterious, and enduring.

“Daddy, I love it here,” Jenna said. She lowered her fork into the deep bowl of pasta. She had made pasta carbonara. Oliver was pleased that she'd remembered it was one of his favorite meals. Jenna's cooking tasted especially good after so many dinners out.

He twirled the strands of spaghetti against his fork. “I'll walk you down to the studio later.” He had given Jenna the money for a ticket to San Francisco so she could have a short vacation from her restaurant. “Kitchen okay? It's fine for me, but I'm not a professional.”

“Perfect. Pretty easy to cook for two compared to my regular shtick.”

“Speaking of regular shtick, how's Leo?”

“He's the best. Don't look at me like that.” She reached for the Parmesan, a pale brick of yellow on a turquoise plate, and ran it across the grater directly over her bowl. “I'll give you plenty of warning when we decide to tie the knot.”

“So you're thinking about marriage?”

“One day. Come on. And speaking of . . .” She pushed the cheese his way. “What's going on with Margot?”

“You mean why isn't she here?”

“Man, you sound cranky.”

“She didn't want to be away this summer. First there was Toni and Wink's graduation. Mostly, she's been upset about Lacey's illness. She wants to have the end of the summer up at the lake place with her.”

“That makes sense.”

“You think so?” he said wearily. He had gone over it a thousand times in his head. Had he pushed Margot too hard?

“Dad, she loves her sister. And they've gone to Bow Lake since they were little.”

“Has she ever taken
me
there?”

“Have you ever wanted to go?”

Oliver had finished almost all of his pasta. He needed to slow down. “I get your point, but since Lacey's been sick, it's like Margot is in this whole other mode. It's always Lacey and her family, never us.”

“Yeah, but Margot's parents are dead. She has no kids of her own. It's natural that she wants to be near them and part of their lives when she can.”

“I guess.” Oliver pushed his bowl away and took a swallow of wine. He knew Margot had had a sad childhood and a disastrous marriage. For a long time all she'd had was Lacey and the girls. And Alex. In the depth of his heart, Oliver could feel that snake of jealousy rearing its head. Oliver had been furious that Alex seemed to seek out Margot at every turn.

“Come on, Daddy. I can see how Margot would want to be with her sister, especially as time runs out. It's really sad.”

He sighed. Jenna, so young, all of a sudden seemed wise.

“Don't brood, Daddy. I've seen that before. It's not cool.” She stood. “Let's clear this away and then give me the tour of your studio. From what you've said, you've been making a ton of art.”

Oliver picked up his bowl, balanced the plate of cheese on top, and followed his daughter to the kitchen. When they went out to the terrace, it was beginning to grow dark, but the air was soft and a full moon cast a path eastward over the vineyards.

Jenna took his arm as he led her down the path to the studio. “You'll be home again next month,” she said. “I bet Margot is missing you as much as you're missing her.”

Oliver looked up at the sky and wondered.

M
argot turned onto Lake Road. The rain had stopped, but the asphalt threw off a sheen from the recent storm. Her flight from New York had been more than three hours late, but she had called Lacey to tell her not to wait up. It was close to midnight. Margot, watchful and alert, drove carefully in her rented car. Now, off the highway, she opened the front windows. She'd had a hard time regulating the air-conditioning; the dashboard dials and switches in the unfamiliar vehicle seemed to make no sense at all. She was chilled. Alex and the girls had left for home earlier in the day. Margot would have this final week of the summer alone with her sister.