Summer House (25 page)

Oliver and Owen
were married in the late afternoon. The officiating minister, who had flown in from California, was completely bald, with pointed ears and a grave, still manner; he resembled Mr. Spock. The ceremony was held on the beach, and the weather blessed them with blue sky, a blazing sun, and a gentle sea breeze. Owen’s parents had flown in for the occasion. They stood at Owen’s side, and Worth and Helen stood by Oliver, while the vows were spoken. Earlier in the day, Charlotte had decorated a twisting piece of driftwood with flowers, a kind of little altar, and Grace flitted from place to place, shooting photos of the ceremony.

Afterward, they filed back up through the wild rosebushes and over the lawn, through the house, and out into the hedged garden, where a long table had been set up with a dramatically high tiered cake in the place of honor. Champagne was poured and handed out by Kellogg and Grace, because Oliver and Owen wanted to keep things informal, and Oliver’s aunt and uncle were pleased to be able to repay some of the many duties Worth and Helen had performed
at the various marriages of their three daughters. There were about fifty people in all. Most of the guests were friends of the wedding couple, handsome professional men who would, later in the evening, leave for the house Oliver and Owen had rented for the real party. The families were invited to the later party, too, but Oliver had been thoughtful not to entertain the group, which would drink and dance into the small hours of the morning, at Nona’s house, disturbing the peace of his grandmother and his cousin’s little children.

Helen moved among the crowd, loving the flow and drape of her long turquoise skirt against her legs, sipping champagne, talking with the guests. Phyllis Lowry the wife of bank director Lew Lowry and one of Helen’s oldest friends, was sitting on a bench, and Helen joined her.

“Do you know,” she confided in a low voice, “I think I’m getting just a tiny bit tight.”

Phyllis laughed. She was a tall woman whose black hair had gone a shining snow white. “It’s the relief,” she told Helen. “The ceremony is over, all the details are dealt with, and now you can relax.” Leaning closer, she whispered, “Don’t look now, but—Whit and Charlotte.”

Helen allowed her gaze to drift over the crowd and, sure enough, there her daughter was, talking with Whit, smiling at Whit. These two had known each other since childhood. When she was thirteen, Charlotte had developed a painfully intense crush on Whit, but they had never really dated as far as Helen knew.

Helen looked away. “I will not get my hopes up,” she told Phyllis. “Not with
my
children.”

“Whit’s probably telling her about his friend Laura Riding. She’s started a new magazine,
Eat Local.
”

“Oh, I’ve seen it. Matte paper and lots of great photography?”

“Right. It’s a national publication, with local articles inserted for each state. Whit told Laura she should write up Beach Grass Garden.”

“How great! Charlotte will be thrilled.” Helen linked her arm with Phyllis’s. “Whit is so wonderful. He recommended Teddy for the antiques shop. Teddy’s actually been working, every day.”

“Well, good thing. He’s going to be a father.” Phyllis squeezed Helen. “You’re going to become a grandmother.”

“And about time, too!”

Helen was laughing as she continued to sweep her eyes around the garden. So many handsome young men. Why she wondered, were gay men all so handsome? She saw Nona seated in her chair by the house, in the shade, regal in scarlet silk pajamas. Suzette sat next to her, looking sweet in a blue maternity dress Mellie had given her. Her multicolored hair had grown slightly, so that instead of sticking out in clumps it curled lightly, feathering close to her head. Every so often Nona would lean near Suzette and say something, and Suzette would smile and nod. Progress was being made there, Helen thought, and took another sip of champagne and allowed herself to be, for the moment, happy. Almost triumphant.

Then her gaze fell on her second son, Teddy, and her heart caught in her throat. Because the ceremony was held on the beach, the dress was casual. Teddy wore crisp white flannels and one of his more colorful Hawaiian print shirts. His blond hair was long enough now that he pulled it back in a funny little ponytail at the nape of his neck. He was talking with one of Oliver’s California friends, and he held a flute of champagne in his hand.

Helen hurriedly corrected herself. Perhaps it wasn’t champagne. Perhaps it was water—but no, it wasn’t water, the color was wrong, it was the pale sunshine yellow of champagne. Could it be grapefruit juice? As she stared, Teddy tilted the glass and drank. He downed the glass in one swallow, then said something to the other man and left to walk to the drinks table, where he set his glass down and picked up another, a glass Helen had just seen the bartender pour from a champagne bottle.

Perhaps champagne didn’t really count as alcohol, Helen thought quickly. Who really ever got drunk on champagne? Perhaps Teddy felt obligated to drink at Oliver’s wedding—but no, that didn’t work, because Teddy had drunk water at Nona’s birthday party.

“Excuse me, Phyllis.” Helen set her own glass on the brick path and rose. She headed toward her younger son, but people stopped her to congratulate her and praise gorgeous Oliver, and when she got to where Teddy had been, he was gone. She turned, scanning the crowd.

Teddy was with his brother and one of Oliver’s California friends—right now Helen couldn’t remember the man’s name. As Helen watched, Teddy aimed a hearty slap at Oliver’s shoulder. Oliver was a few inches taller than his younger brother, and while both men were slender, Oliver’s posture was erect, his limbs muscular. Beside him, Teddy looked too thin.

“Congratulations, big brother!” Addressing the California friend—
Brad
, Helen
thought; his name is Brad
—who stood next to Oliver, Teddy announced jovially, “You know, every time I see Oliver, it’s to congratulate him for something. Graduating from high school, graduating from college, getting his architect’s degree, winning that award in San Francisco—Oliver’s a golden boy, aren’t you, Oliver? You’re a real golden boy.”

Oliver dipped his head and said something softly to Teddy.

In response, Teddy tilted his glass and drained it. “But it’s a party!” he declared. “A celebration. Another celebration! For
you
, Oliver, handsome handsome Oliver, talented Oliver, and of course you
would
find a mate from a terribly terribly socially accepted family. You’re just a golden boy, Oliver!” Keeping his hand on his brother’s shoulder, Teddy roughly shook his brother in rhythm to his words, “A golden boy, a golden boy, that’s what you are, a golden boy!” He lurched aggressively toward Brad. “Right? Am I right? Don’t you think Oliver’s a golden boy?”

A deep, exhausting sadness possessed Helen, and the iron brand of a headache scorched her forehead. She had been in this place before, many times before, with Teddy drunk after a beach party in high school or college, or drunk at home in Boston when he showed up for one of his unannounced visits. So she knew better than to try to lead him away from the party. Teddy would never hurt her—Teddy was not a mean drunk—but even as thin as he was, he was stronger than Helen, and if he swayed or stumbled against her, he could knock her over. He
had
knocked her over before, accidentally. She saw her husband headed toward Oliver and Teddy, a strained smile on his face.

“Oh, no!” Teddy broke into a crowing laugh. “Here comes Dad!
It’s crackers and milk in my room again! Crackers and milk for me, because I’m the bad boy. Champagne and cheers for you, Ollie, old chap, you’re the golden boy.”

By now Teddy’s voice was loud enough to summon everyone’s attention, and Helen was aware of the crowd pausing in their conversations and turning to stare. Helen looked to see how Nona was taking all this. In state on the bench, Nona resembled some kind of gigantic beetle with her fat torso and stick limbs, and she was just about as nimble as an overturned beetle, unable to rise without someone’s assistance or at least the use of the cane lying next to her. Nona’s gaze was on Teddy. Suzette, like another, differently colored beetle, was awkwardly pushing herself up from her wicker chair. Her face was grim as she lumbered toward Teddy.

“Teddy.” Somehow Worth managed to get between his two sons. He clamped a hand on his younger son’s shoulder, but instead of drawing Teddy away as Helen thought he would, he said, “Grace? Where’s your camera? I want a picture taken of me with my sons. With both my sons.”

Oh, thank you, Worth
, Helen thought, grateful that he was trying to ease them all out of an unpleasant situation.

Grace practically ran through the gathering, holding her digital camera up, giddily giving directions, “Stand closer together, Teddy, Oliver. That’s right. Now Worth. Smile, everyone. Come on, a nice big smile.”

But Teddy wasn’t smiling. His drunken jubilation had morphed into depression. Helen had seen this transition before, too. She hoped they could maneuver him into the house and away from the party before he started one of his self-pitying rants.

“Great!” Grace cried. “I have several wonderful shots.”

“Thanks,” Worth said to his sister. He had not taken his hand off Teddy’s shoulder, and now he moved him away from Oliver and toward the house. Suzette approached Teddy and said something Helen couldn’t hear.

“Oh, come on,” Teddy roared back. “I’ve gotten started, at least let me finish, let me have one good intoxicating event. If I’m going to be sick with guilt tomorrow, I might as well do it right.”

Kellogg appeared at Teddy’s other side. He exchanged a glance with Worth, and the two older men gripped Teddy’s arms and half carried him through the garden and into the house. Suzette followed. Helen followed the others. She heard Oliver say to the crowd, “This seems like a good time to move the party over to Surfside. You all know the address, right?”

Teddy heard, too. “I want to go to the party!” He wrestled away from his father and uncle. “Hey, no fair, I want to go to the party.” He sounded like a child.

Worth and Kellogg escorted Teddy to one of the sofas in front of the fireplace. “Come on, Teddy, sit down here a minute. You can go to the party, but there’s no hurry. It’s going to be awhile before the others have unblocked the drive with their cars.” Worth kept his voice moderate, friendly.

Glorious, who had seen Teddy’s fits of drunkenness before, appeared from the kitchen holding a cup of coffee.

“Thanks, Glorious,” Worth said. “Teddy, sit down. Drink this.”

“Oh, there you go, such a Puritan. Why are you making such a big deal of this? I don’t need any coffee, I’m celebrating the golden boy; you should be celebrating him, too. Well, you
are
celebrating him—or you were, weren’t you?—until I messed things up for you.” Teddy suddenly sat down, hard, on the sofa. “Did I ruin Oliver’s party? That is so pathetic. My God, I’m a hopeless fool.”

From outside came the noises of the departing crowd. Car doors slammed. Voices called out. Someone laughed. At the far end of the room, Grace was helping Nona in from the garden.

Suzette awkwardly lowered herself next to Teddy. She took his hand. “Teddy, it’s all right. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. You haven’t ruined anything. Now drink your coffee.”

Teddy clutched Suzette’s hand hard. He looked up at his father. “Isn’t she wonderful? Suzette is wonderful. I wouldn’t be here without Suzette. I wouldn’t be anywhere without Suzette. And you wouldn’t let her come to your stupid lockjaw Family Meeting!”

“Let’s discuss this matter tomorrow, son,” Worth said.

“Oh, right, let’s not talk about your cold-shouldering now, not while Golden Boy is on stage.”

“You know what?” Worth said, his voice angry. “That’s right. It
is
Oliver’s wedding day.”

Teddy glared up at his father. “Yeah? Well, when are you going to celebrate my marriage to Suzette? When are you going to throw
us
a party?”

“When you show me a marriage certificate,” Worth shot back.

Helen’s headache was nearly blinding her, but she noticed from the corner of her eye that Glorious had gone to Nona and put a supporting arm around the old woman. She left the group gathered around Teddy and went to her mother-in-law. “Nona. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, dear. Just very tired. This has been such an exciting day. Time for bed for me.” Nona’s voice was scarcely louder than a whisper.

Behind her, Teddy continued to rage, his words becoming looser and less well formed, and soon, Helen knew, he would launch into an unattractive, petulant blubbering that no amount of gentle reassurance could stem. He was this far into his inebriation. The only way out from this point was to keep him away from more alcohol while preventing him from doing something potentially harmful to himself. Helen’s heart ached for her son. And her head ached, as if she were very weary, as if she’d been awake for several weeks without sleep.

Charlotte swept in from the garden, her pale saffron silk skirt swirling around her ankles. The evening’s humidity had made her long hair rise slightly around her head like a halo. She leaned over her brother and tugged on his hand. “Come on, Teddy, let’s go for a walk.”

Teddy pulled away. “No, no, you want to go to Oliver’s party.”

“No, I don’t. I want to walk with you. On the beach. It’s such a beautiful night. Let’s kick off our shoes and get sand between our toes.”

“Suzette—”

“Suzette needs to rest. You and I need to walk.” She yanked on him and, reluctantly, Teddy rose.

Suzette pushed herself up to a standing position and watched
Charlotte draw Teddy away from the sofa. Without another word, she crossed the large room, walked out into the hall, and up the wide stairs.

“I ruined Oliver’s party,” Teddy groaned. “I’m an asshole.”

“You’re an asshole,” Charlotte agreed, “but you didn’t ruin Oliver’s party. Tell me about the antiques shop, Teddy. How do you like working there? Have you made any fabulous sales? If I know you, you’ve persuaded quite a few people into some pretty pricey deals.”