“You look like Peggy Fleming, Mom,” Meg said admiringly.
“Hardly, sweetheart. But thanks anyway.” They skated together till almost noon. And then they went home to eat the turkey Paris had left in the oven while they went out. But in spite of the pleasant morning they'd shared, and the fact that she was thrilled to have them home, it was a difficult afternoon. The holiday seemed to underscore everything that had changed in the past year. It was agonizing for Paris, and Wim and Meg were scheduled to have dinner with Peter in the city the following night. He was anxious to see them too, but had understood that they wanted to be with their mother on Thanksgiving, and hadn't pressed the point with them.
Wim and Meg both looked very nice when they caught the five o'clock train into the city on Friday afternoon. It was snowing, and neither of them wanted to drive. He was taking them to Le Cirque for dinner, which seemed very festive and generous of him. They were both looking forward to it. Meg was wearing a little black dress of her mother's, and Wim had decided to wear a suit, and looked suddenly older than his years. He seemed to have matured noticeably in the three months since he'd left for school. And Paris was undeniably proud of him.
Peter was waiting for them at the entrance to the restaurant in a pin-striped suit, and Meg thought he looked very handsome, and said as much to him. He was pleased, and happy to spend an evening with them. He had invited them both to stay at the hotel with him, and had reserved rooms for each of them. And on Saturday morning, they were planning to go home to Greenwich. They were both returning to the West Coast on Sunday morning. And on Saturday night, they were both planning to see their friends. It was hard now, with separate parents to satisfy, to fit it all in, although both of them had seen friends the night before, after Thanksgiving dinner, as well. Paris was just grateful to have them sleeping there, she didn't expect to monopolize their time, nor did Peter. And they were glad to come into the city. There were already Christmas trees everywhere, and with the snow falling, there was a festive air and it looked like a Christmas card scene.
Peter seemed a little tense to Meg at first, as though he didn't know what to say to her, and he seemed a little more at ease with Wim. He had never been an easy conversationalist, and he had always counted on their mother to keep the conversational ball rolling. Without her, things were a little stiffer. But eventually, after a glass of wine, he seemed to loosen up. Neither of his children had seen Peter very often since he left, although he made a point of calling them often. And Meg was touched and surprised when he ordered champagne for dessert.
“Are we celebrating something?” she asked, teasing him. It was legal for her to drink, and she pushed her glass over to Wim so he could take a sip too.
“Well, yes, actually,” he said, looking uncomfortable, as he glanced from one of his children to the other. “I have a little announcement to make.” It was hard to imagine what it would be. Meg wondered if he had bought a new house or an apartment, or better yet, maybe he was thinking of going back to their mother. But in that case, she reasoned, he would have invited Paris to join them, and he hadn't. They waited expectantly as he put down his glass and seemed to be waiting for a drumroll. This was turning out to be harder than he'd expected, and he was feeling extremely nervous and it showed. “I'm getting married,” he blurted out finally, as both of his children stared at him in amazement. There had been nothing in their conversations with him to even remotely suggest it before this. He had thought he was giving them time to adjust to the divorce, and protecting Rachel from their inevitable conclusions. It had never even occurred to him what kind of damage he would do to his relationship with them by dropping her into their lives as a fait accompli, a surprise.
“You're kidding, right?” Meg was the first to respond. “You can't be.” She looked shocked, and her face went instantly chalk white.
All Wim could think about was his mother. This was going to kill her. “Does Mom know?”
They both looked crestfallen, and Peter looked panicked. “No, she doesn't. You're the first to know. I thought you should know first.” Who was he marrying? They hadn't even met her. All Meg could think was, how could he do this? And she couldn't help thinking that the woman he was marrying must be the reason he had left their mother. They weren't even divorced yet. How could he think of getting married? Their mother wasn't even dating, and had barely left the house.
“When did you meet her?” Meg asked sensibly, but she felt as though her head was spinning. All she wanted to do was jump up and hit him and run out of the restaurant screaming, but she knew that would be childish. She felt she owed it to him to at least listen. Maybe he had just met her. But if that was the case, marrying her this quickly was insane. Meg wondered if he was.
“She's worked at my law firm for the past two years. She's a very nice, very bright young woman. She went to Stanford,” he said to them, as though that would make a difference. “And Harvard Law School.” So she was intelligent and educated. They had established that much. “And she has two little boys, Jason and Thomas, who are five and seven. I think you'll like them.” Oh my God, Meg thought to herself, they were going to be her stepbrothers. And she could see in her father's eyes that he meant this. The only thing she was grateful for, as she listened to him, was that he had the good taste not to bring the woman to dinner. At least it showed a certain sensitivity that he hadn't.
“How old is she?” Meg asked, with a sinking stomach. She knew she would always remember this as one of the worst moments of her life, second only to the day her mother had called her to tell her they were getting divorced. But this was running a close second.
“She'll be thirty-two in December.”
“My God, Dad. She's twenty years younger than you are.”
“And eight years older than Meg,” Wim added with a somber expression. He wasn't enjoying this either. All he wanted was to go home to his mother. He felt like a frightened child.
“Why don't you just go out with her? Why do you have to get married so soon? You and Mom aren't even divorced yet.” As she said it, Meg was near tears. And her father didn't answer the question. He looked right at her with a stern expression. He was not going to justify this to them. That much was clear. Meg couldn't help wondering if he'd lost his mind.
“We're getting married on New Year's Eve, and I'd like both of you to be there.” There was an endless silence at the table, as the waiter brought the check, and Wim and Meg just stared at their father. New Year's Eve was five weeks away. And this was the first they'd heard of it. It was already a done deal, which didn't seem fair, to say the least.
“I was planning to go out with my friends,” Wim said as though that would excuse him from an event he would do almost anything not to attend. But he didn't see how he was going to get out of it, judging by the look on his father's face. Peter was actually foolish enough, under the circumstances, to look stern.
“I think you'll have to skip that this year, Wim. It's an important day. I'd like you to be my best man.” There were tears in Wim's eyes as he shook his head.
“I can't do that to Mom, Dad. It would break her heart. You can make me come, but I won't be best man.” Peter didn't answer for a long moment, and then nodded and looked at Meg.
“I assume you'll be there too?” She nodded, and looked as devastated as her brother.
“Are we going to meet her before the wedding, Dad?” Meg asked in a choked voice. She didn't even know the woman's name, and in his anxiousness, he had forgotten to tell them, and then took care of it in the next breath.