Jenna’s eyes filled with tears, and Margot became confused. Did Jenna have a strong alliance with Pauline that Margot didn’t know about? Did Jenna love Pauline? Pauline was fine, she was okay, on a good day she could be sort of fun-at Halloween, she dressed up as a witch to give the children of Silvermine candy bars-but Margot had no attachment to Pauline, and she assumed her siblings didn’t, either.
“Hey,” Margot said, patting Jenna’s back.
“It’s just…” Jenna said.
The door to the ladies’ room flew open, so that music floated in. The band was playing more Sinatra-“I’ve Got the World on a String” (her mother’s suggestion of “only standards” had been obeyed). By now, Margot guessed, the blueberry cobbler had been served. She glanced up to see who was coming in.
For the sake of poetry, Margot half expected to find Rhonda, or possibly even Pauline herself, entering, so she was taken aback to see… Finn.
Finn wore a silver Herve Leger bandage dress, which Margot knew to cost fifteen hundred dollars. Finn’s hair was a mess, and she appeared flushed. Her cheeks were bright red with sunburn, and her eyes were shining and manic.
Margot thought, Oh, God, no. He didn’t.
“Hi!” Finn said. She was glowing. She would have glowed with a paper bag over her head.
He did.
Jenna spun around so quickly that her skirt flared; it was like a Solid Gold dance move, and Margot would have laughed had it not been for Jenna’s tone of voice. In twenty-nine years of knowing her sister, Margot had never heard Jenna speak sharply to anyone, but now her voice was a glinting dagger.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Finn gnawed her lower lip, and Margot could tell she was trying not to burst out in an explosion of bubbles and rose petals.
Jenna looked at an imaginary watch. “It’s eight thirty. You were supposed to be at the church for the rehearsal at five. Three and a half hours ago. Where have you been?”
“Um…” Finn said.
“You’re my best friend!” Jenna cried. “I needed you with me. When you needed me last night, what did I do?”
Silence from Finn, who now looked appropriately contrite.
“I went home with you!” Jenna shouted. “I left my own bachelorette party, which Margot had been planning for months. I went home and let you cry on my shoulder about what an asshole Scott is. Oh-and he is an asshole!”
Margot watched her sister with near-anthropological interest. She was watching the first-ever fight between Jenna and Finn. Jenna could be a spitfire. Who knew?
Finn’s face dissolved. She was going to revert to type and cry. This Margot could have predicted, and she further predicted that, upon seeing Finn’s tears, Jenna would relent and apologize for her tone. But instead Jenna grew fiercer.
“Answer me,” Jenna said. “Where were you?”
“With Nick,” Finn said. “Paddleboarding at the beach, then trying to get home from the beach.” Here she flicked her eyes at Margot. “Then we took showers and got dressed at home, then came right here.”
No, Margot thought. It had not taken two hours for them to shower, dress, and walk the half mile over here.
“Did something happen?” Jenna asked. “Did something happen between you and Nick?”
Margot couldn’t bear to hear the answer. She didn’t want Finn to admit the truth, and she didn’t want to hear her lie. Margot put up a hand. “I’m leaving,” she said. “You two can finish this in peace.”
“Thank you,” Finn whispered.
As Margot pushed open the door to leave, she heard Jenna say, “Tell me the truth!”
Outside, in the corridor, Margot surveyed the happenings in the rest of the club. It was, from the look of things, a lovely party. The band was playing “One for My Baby (and One More for the Road).” Margot’s father was dancing with Beanie, Kevin was dancing with Rhonda, Ryan’s boyfriend was dancing with Pauline. Nick was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, eating what appeared to be a club sandwich off a paper plate. Unlike Finn, Nick was not radiating ecstasy and moonbeams. He seemed his usual nonchalant, nonplussed self, maybe even a little subdued. Perhaps he was bummed because he’d missed the lobster buffet, or perhaps he was suffering guilty pangs about the sex acts he had just performed with the newly married childhood neighbor girl.
But who was Margot kidding? Nick didn’t suffer guilty pangs.
Margot had to get out of there.
You can’t tell me you wouldn’t love an opportunity to vent your frustration with your family to a friendly acquaintance.
Goddamned Griff, Homecoming King, was right. She would love.
Margot told herself that the Boarding House was on her way home. She told herself that she would just poke her head in, and if Griff wasn’t instantly visible, she would leave.
She stepped into the welcoming energy of the Boarding House bar; the air smelled like roasting garlic and warm bread and expensive perfume. The lighting was low, the good-looking patrons were exuding a happy buzz, and “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” was playing.
Ha! Margot thought. Got that right.
She stepped up to the bar, where there was one leather stool available. She didn’t see Griff, and she considered leaving. But the barstool looked comfortable; it would be nice, maybe, to just sit and have a drink by herself. She was lonely nearly all the time, but so seldom alone.
She ordered a martini. She tried not to appear self-conscious, although the word described her exactly. She was conscious of herself sitting alone, sipping a stronger drink than she should be having at this hour, waiting for…
A tap on the shoulder.
She turned around. Griff.
“You came,” he said. He sounded full of boyish wonder at that moment, as if discovering the presence of Santa Claus on Christmas morning.
Margot sipped her martini. She would not let him rattle her. She would be her genuine self. But she was struck by the ocean of colors contained in his eyes; she felt as if she might drown in them.
“It was on my way home,” Margot said.
He was wearing a white button-down shirt and jeans and a navy blazer. He now sported three-day scruff, which was even sexier than two-day scruff.
“You came to see me,” Griff said. “Admit it, you did.”
There was the smug confidence that Margot had expected. She juggled a dozen possible replies in her head, but then she settled on the truth. “You were right,” she said. “This morning.”
Griff’s eyes widened. “About what?”
“I would love an opportunity to vent my frustrations with my family to a kindly stranger. I would like to detail the many ways they are destroying my spirit.”
Griff held up open palms. “By all means,” he said. “Detail away.”
“Have you ever lost anyone?” she asked.
Griff said, “You mean, other than when my wife walked out?”
Margot said, “Yes. I mean, has anyone close to you died?”
Griff said, “My younger brother. Highway accident. I was twenty-five, and he was twenty-one.”
Margot stopped for a second. She thought, My siblings, they drive me insane, I despise two out of the three of them right now. But what if one of them died? Impossible to imagine; they were her brothers, her sister. She couldn’t go on without them. “Oh,” she said. “Wow. That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
Griff nodded. “This isn’t supposed to be about me. This is supposed to be about you.”
Margot said, “You’re a good guy, right?”
Griff shrugged. “My daughter seems to think so, but she’s only twelve, so what does she know?”
Margot’s guilt kept her silent. She thought about how painfully ironic it was that the one person she had really and truly wronged this year was the very same person she was now about to confide in. Griff would hate her if he knew what she’d done. He would be right to hate her. She should go. She couldn’t sit and tell him things with this insidious secret gnawing at her, but she couldn’t confess, either.