A Wedding in December_ A Novel - Anita Shreve [47]
Shaved and clean, Harrison chose between two shirts. He’d wear a sport coat tonight, his suit tomorrow. The mirror was clear when he went into the bathroom to knot his tie. Did he look forty-four? What did forty-four look like? Whatever it was, he thought, Nora didn’t look it. There was still a gamine quality about her that age hadn’t buried.
Harrison checked to see that he had his key, and then he left his room. Immediately he could hear a kind of hubbub in the lobby. Of course the inn would have other guests—hadn’t he seen the sign for the Karola-Jungbacker wedding?—but it was strange nevertheless to hear voices when it had seemed so quiet before. He took the stairs instead of the elevator, stepping smartly, aware now that he might be seen by someone he knew. Aware, too, of the ridiculousness of caring. In the lobby, he noticed an elderly couple heading for the elevator to the dining room—the early shift for dinner, he guessed. A younger couple seemed unanchored, having left their room too early for dinner, not sure yet where to berth themselves.
Harrison walked toward the library. He noted, as he neared it, that the double doors were open. He paused for a moment and could hear voices. He recognized only Bill’s. As he turned the corner and entered the room, faces swiveled in his direction. He spotted Rob Zoar and a man he didn’t know in conversation. Rob put his hand on the back of the man’s neck and leaned in close to convey a private word. Harrison was slightly stunned. He hadn’t realized that Rob was gay. Had he been at Kidd? Had the others known? In the corner, Jerry Leyden waved. Agnes O’Connor was approaching, her arms spread wide. Harrison heard his name repeated and was suffused with a sense of lights up, curtains rising, as if for some great assembly.
Harrison.”
“Agnes.”
“My God.”
“You look great.”
“And you.”
Harrison bent to embrace her. In his arms, Agnes felt even more solid than he had remembered (but so was he, he thought; so was he). He held her at arm’s length and studied her face. She seemed genuinely happy to see him, slightly abashed at being examined. He let her go. Her face had weathered more than one would have imagined. She had on clothing that Harrison recognized as being out-of-date. A secular nun in a rose-colored suit. He could see, simply from the athletic way she held herself, that she wasn’t used to dressing up.
“How are you?” she asked.
“Well. And you?”
She laughed and took a sip of wine. “Will it be like this all night?” she asked. “All these ohmygods and youlookgreats?”
“For a while. It would be worse at a reunion.”
“This is a reunion.”
“Sort of.”
“Amazing about Bill and Bridget,” she said.
“I was surprised.”
“And you know Bill. I mean, you’re in touch, right?”
“We used to be. I knew his wife. Ex-wife.”
“I’m happy for them. Very brave of Bridget. Of Bill, too.”
Harrison sensed Nora by the door. In the corner, a bartender was standing behind a draped table. Harrison had a sudden urge for a drink. “This inn is beautiful,” he said.
“Wonderful views.” Together, they turned to look through the tall cottage windows at the views, which, of course, could not be seen at night. “I can’t get over the transformation. Were you ever here before?”
“Except for Bill and Jerry, I haven’t seen anyone in this room in twenty-seven years,” Harrison said.
“You wouldn’t guess it was the same place.”
“I didn’t know this was an interest that Nora had.”