A Wedding in December_ A Novel - Anita Shreve [49]
“Did you fly?” Agnes was asking.
“There’s a direct flight from Toronto to Hartford.”
“Was it awful? They say it is. I haven’t flown since 9/11.”
“The lines were bad. Other than that . . .”
“Of course, it would have to be Portland, wouldn’t it, where the trouble started,” Agnes said. “I think everyone in Maine felt responsible.”
“I imagine heads have rolled.”
“Well, you certainly don’t want to fly out of Portland right now,” she warned. “The longest lines in America. Do you feel safer in Canada?”
Harrison noticed that Agnes had on incongruously sexy high-heeled shoes. He wondered if she had bought them for this occasion. “In Toronto? No, not at all.”
Agnes glanced around the room. “Where are Bridget and Bill, I wonder?”
“I’m sure I saw Bill earlier,” Harrison said.
“Who are the two kids in suits?”
At the table where hors d’oeuvres had been set out, two teenage boys were on a reconnaissance mission. If they were anything like his sons, they wouldn’t leave the table until they’d had the equivalent of a meal. “I think one of them is Bridget’s son, the other his friend. I’m not sure which is which.”
“Poor Bill,” Agnes said, and Harrison didn’t know whether she was referring to the fact that Bill’s family would not come for the wedding or the worse fact of Bridget’s diagnosis. “I hope she’s all right,” she added, immediately answering Harrison’s question. “I’m getting another drink. You want one?”
“Not just yet. But thanks.”
Nora was still by the door. Harrison headed in her direction. “Delicious wine,” he said when he had reached her side. “I like the glass, too.”
“I find them in flea markets. I had lessons. For the wine.”
“Really?”
“At a vineyard not far from here.”
“I didn’t know they produced wine in New England.”
“There . . . there are lots of small vineyards sprinkled all through Vermont and Massachusetts and Connecticut. Some of it is very good.”
“Are you still happy?” he asked.
She thought a minute. “Not ecstatic. As I was earlier. The day is gone, isn’t it? But I’m excited to have everyone together. After so long.”
“Is this your drinks-in-the-library uniform?” he asked, gesturing to her dress.
Nora shrugged.
Harrison was aware of a sharp and inappropriate desire to touch the bare skin of her arm. “Agnes and I were wondering where Bridget is. She got here okay?”
“She did. She’s still in her room changing. She’s shy. Do you remember her as shy?”
“I remember her as attached to Bill at the hip.”
“Everyone thinks Bill wanted to do this for Bridget because she might die,” Nora said. “But the real reason is that he’s never gotten over hurting her the way he did. When he broke up with her in college and started dating Jill. I’ve never met her. Jill, that is.”
“As I recall, Jill is an incredibly attractive woman with a healthy manipulative streak. Bill might not have had a chance.”
“He thinks he and Bridget have a chance now.”
“I hope that’s true.” Harrison paused. “Hope that’s true for all of us, actually.”
Nora smiled.
“How was the rehearsal?” Harrison asked.
“The bride started crying for reasons that escaped all of us.”
“You don’t drink?” Harrison asked, pointing to Nora’s glass of sparkling water.
“I’m working.”
“Doesn’t seem fair.”
“Well, I’m both. I’ll have a glass of wine at dinner.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Tell me a story,” she said.
“What?”
“A little story. I don’t have much time.”
“Here?” Harrison asked.
Nora nodded.
“Okay. Well. Let’s see . . .” Harrison said and paused. “Okay, here’s a story,” he began, thinking to best her at her own game. “One day I was taking a walk on a Sunday morning at Kidd, and I noticed across the road one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever seen. I caught up to her—I was still on my side of the road—and thought I would call over to her and talk to her and ask her her name, but I choked at the last minute.