I smiled and sipped my wine. “Turns out he wasn’t quite as separated as he told me he was when we started dating. Couldn’t ever see me on Thursday evenings. I bought the story that it was his standing racquetball game and dinner with the guys.”
“What was it?”
“Marriage counseling. They were still trying to find a way to put things back together. Dan’s one of those guys who just can’t stand being alone for a minute.”
“Thank goodness he told you before you got in any deeper.”
“He didn’t tell me. The florist did.”
“What?”
“Way too many flowers. The Dan Bolin signature. All flowers all the time. About six weeks into our dating frenzy, there must have been a particularly heartwarming session with the counselor. The estranged wife got a magnificent bouquet, and mine must have been pretty nice as well.”
“You never saw it?”
“Nope. The florist mixed up the delivery. I got hers with a note promising reconciliation as soon as his head cleared, and whatever enticing words he penned to lure me into bed landed in her hands. She called him while I was still up in court. The whole thing was over before it began.”
“Sometimes, when I’m dealing with the PTA and playdates and car pools, I’m so envious of your lifestyle I want to scream. And then I think of how miserable it would be to be back on the market and wouldn’t swap with you for all the money in the world. Didn’t Joan have a fix-up for you months ago?”
I rolled on my side and stared out the window at the nearly full moon that lit the lawn and the surface of the water at the bottom of the hill. “She’s always got a prospect for me. I just can’t stand blind dates. I’ve got nothing to talk about but my work.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’ve got great friends, you do interesting things, you’re a voracious reader, and you happen to have a job that gives you enormous emotional satisfaction. Talk about those things.”
“Yeah, but most guys really think the job is strange. That I must stay in the office because I hate men or something.”
“Don’t they understand how rewarding it is to take victims into court and help them regain their dignity?” Nina said. “Guys like Mike get it. Why couldn’t you convince him to come up here this weekend?”
I got up from the floor, kissed Nina on the crown of her head, and embraced her.
“It’s only been six months since Val was killed. It’s still way too raw for him. I keep trying to find ways to-you know-ways to get him out of his morose mood, bring him back. It’s like I’ve lost my right arm.”
I started toward my bedroom as Nina corked the bottle.
“I know what you can do to bring him back, Alex. You know it, too, don’t you?”
I waved her off.
“You fly up here with Mike one weekend, to this incredibly romantic setting. A few logs in the fireplace, more of this great wine. You’ll both be better for it. You haven’t forgotten how, have you?”
“I’m cutting you off, Nina,” I said, wagging a finger at her and laughing. “I work with the man. We’re partners on some of the most serious cases in the city, and you know as well as I do that our professional relationship would have to end if-if-”
“If you got smart and took a chance? Worst that happens is that somebody else will work the big trials.”
“I need the judge and jury to speculate about my sexual escapades, too? You’ve met Lem Howell-Mr. Triplicate. That would be a really sweet cross-examination, wouldn’t it?” I paced the floor, doing my best imitation of Howell’s manner and delivery. “‘Isn’t it true, Detective Chapman, that Ms. Cooper asked you-no, ordered you-demanded that you come up with some kind of confession from my client? Isn’t it true that you fabricated this statement in order to get yourself into her arms-into her pants-into her bed?’”
I stopped and shook my head. “I can’t believe I actually worry about how complicated my friendship is with Mike.”
“Bad news and good news.”
“What? That with my track record the romance won’t work, and I’ll also be out of a job for going after it?”
“The bad news is that you’re dead-on about the line of questioning from a good defense attorney,” Nina said. “The good news is that you even think about it.”
17
“Isn’t rain supposed to mean good luck on your wedding day?”
Nina and I were helping Joan dress, in my bedroom, at six o’clock on Saturday. Our friends were gathering on the wide lawn, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight anywhere in the brilliant blue sky.
“There were a few sprinkles just after midnight,” Nina said. “Make do with that. My hair would be a nightmare if there was even a hint of precipitation.”
“Here you go, Joan. Borrowed and blue in one fell swoop.” I unhooked the sapphire bracelet that Nina’s husband had given her on her tenth anniversary and clasped it on the bride’s wrist. “You look absolutely drop-dead gorgeous.”
“I can barely breathe in this thing,” Joan said, adjusting the strapless ivory dress and looking out the window at the couples ambling toward the tent where the ceremony would be performed. “I should never have had that lobster roll for lunch yesterday. Where’s my Jimmy?”
“He’s right out there, talking to your mother,” Nina said.
“Is he wearing socks?” Joan asked.
“Why…?”
“No cold feet, right?” Joan walked into the bathroom to finish touching up.
“He looks deliriously happy, darling. It’s either the three-hundred-fifty-pound thresher shark the guys caught today or he really does want to get hitched. You ready to make this legal?” I picked up the leatherbound folder that held my remarks. The certificate from the secretary of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts authorizing me to solemnize the marriage was on top.
Nina and I looked each other over, head to toe, as we had done scores of times before we’d set out on the town together.
She put her arms on my shoulders and squared off in front of me. “Are you sure you can do this?” she asked.
When Adam’s car had crashed on the way to the Vineyard, it was Nina who had had to break the news of his death to me. This very hilltop that was supposed to be the site of our own wedding represented for a time my greatest heartbreak. Now it would be invested with new joy.
“Don’t ever forget him, will you?”
“Not a prayer.”
“Then this is the perfect thing to do for Joan and Jim. Thanks for asking.”
“You’re mush under all that tough stuff you put on in court,” Nina said as Joan came back to us for a second look. “Here comes the bride. Okay, you’re ravishing this time. Good-bye, Ms. Stafford, and hello, Mrs. Hageville. See you shortly.”
We could hear the music playing. It was my turn to give the bride a last prenuptial hug and walk out to the tent. Jim offered his hand and I stepped up on the platform, happy to see that so many of our friends had made the trip to my island paradise to witness the happy occasion.
I scanned the rows of guests as everyone turned to follow the bride’s procession toward the makeshift altar. Nina winked at me, and I noticed a man I’d never seen before leaning down to whisper something in her ear. Joan and Jim broke into irrepressible smiles as they locked eyes and she glided into place by his side.
“Dearly beloved, we have come together here today, on this magical island-on a perfect June evening-to celebrate the marriage of Joan and Jim.
“How fitting it is that the Vineyard is the place you chose to formalize your union. The first trip you took together was to this island, finding pleasure in its glorious natural setting, finding sustenance in the magnificent waters that encircle its shores.”
I had written a short service for them, after which I was ready to take the bride and groom through the classic vows-simple words that belied the profound commitment they represent.