Maine - J. Courtney Sullivan [182]
She fixed a shortcake with strawberries, blueberries, and homemade whipped cream on top, arranged to resemble the Stars and Stripes. She had bought fried chicken drumsticks at the market, and made potato salad, pasta salad, and hummus early that morning. She placed it all in a picnic basket, along with bug spray, binoculars, utensils, and a big bag of potato chips.
She wanted to look nice for Steve. Beach attire was clearly not her strong suit, but now she had the chance to shine. She put on a new red shirtwaist and the blue sandals she had chosen to go along with it. And then she dabbed on a bit of makeup, though not enough to make her husband ask why she’d gone to the trouble.
After a while, the rest of them trickled inside to get ready.
“Should we bring two bottles of champagne, or three?” she asked Pat before they left.
“Bring four,” he said. “My mother’s coming.”
“Oh? How did that happen?”
“I went over and invited her.” He paused, looking guilty. “She comes every year.”
His tone said that he was trying to explain himself, which made Ann Marie feel like a terrible wife. Alice was his mother. Of course he had to invite her.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I was just surprised she accepted, since she’s sort of been hiding from us.”
“I think she figures we’ll be less likely to off her in a really crowded public place,” Pat said, a comment Ann Marie would have expected from one of his sisters, maybe, but not from him. It made her sad that it had come to this.
“We’ll make the best of it,” she said.
After he left the room, she removed an open bottle of chardonnay from the fridge and filled a big glass, drinking it down quickly before anyone could see.
The five of them took one car, since they knew it would be tough to find parking. Alice, Linda, and Ann Marie sat shoulder to shoulder in the backseat of Pat’s Mercedes.
“I told Maggie and Kathleen to meet us there after dinner,” Alice said. “I’ll bet they don’t have fireworks like this in California.”
Oh, so now she was using Kathleen for backup? That was rich.
But Ann Marie just answered, “Great.” She was already feeling the effects of the wine, which, mixed with a long day in the sun, had gone straight to her head. She rolled the window down a bit to try to get some air. She lost herself in the sound of cars whizzing past, not paying attention to the conversation.
When they arrived, they moved slowly through Market Square with the crowd all around, and Ann Marie tried to feel happy. She reminded herself that nothing terrible had happened yet, and who knew—maybe Alice would change her mind after all. But she felt weighted down all the same, like this might be the last time they would ever come here. Everything seemed temporary now.
As if intuiting her thoughts, Alice whispered, “Perk up, darling! You’re acting like a real party pooper.”
She was in one of her moods, which usually scared Ann Marie into being sweet and obedient, but now, for the very first time, she couldn’t care less.
“No one likes a droopy hostess,” Alice continued, clearly looking for a fight.
Ann Marie ignored her. They reached the edge of the field and she said in her most upbeat voice, “This spot looks perfect.” They spread the blanket out and she wondered if Alice was right—was it clear to the Brewers that her family was a mess, that she herself was floundering? Perhaps, but then again Steve had told her she looked great, and they had both been complimenting her cooking since they walked in the door.
She popped open a bottle of champagne as they got settled.
“Bubbly?” she said to Linda and Steve.
Ann Marie could hardly pour fast enough, she wanted a drink so badly. After she had filled everyone else’s glasses, she filled one for herself, drinking it down in under a minute and refilling it