They'd both refused to invite any of their friends to the ceremony, so only Dan, Phoebe, the children, and the dogs were there. The girls had decorated the living room with white crepe-paper streamers and tied bows on the dogs. Roo wore his around his collar, and Kanga's perched crookedly on her topknot. She flirted shamelessly with Kevin, shaking her topknot to get his attention and batting her tail. Kevin ignored her just as he ignored Roo's growling, so Molly knew he was one of those men who believed that a poodle threatened his masculinity. Why hadn't she considered that in Door County instead of looking for burps, gold chains, and "You duh man"?
Hannah's eyes shone, and she gazed at Kevin and Molly as if they were the central figures in a fairy tale. Because of her, Molly pretended to be happy when all she wanted to do was throw up.
"You look so beautiful." Hannah sighed. Then she turned to Kevin, her heart in her eyes. "You look beautiful, too. Like a prince."
Tess and Julie let out whoops of laughter. Hannah turned crimson.
But Kevin didn't laugh. He smiled instead and squeezed her shoulder. "Thanks, kiddo."
Molly blinked her eyes and looked away.
The judge conducting the ceremony stepped forward. "Let's begin."
Molly and Kevin moved toward him as if they were passing through a force field.
"Dearly beloved…"
Andrew wiggled loose from his mother's side and shot forward to wedge himself between the bride and groom.
"Andrew, come back here." Dan reached out to retrieve him, but Kevin and Molly simultaneously snatched his sticky little hands to keep him right where he was.
And that was how they got married-underneath a makeshift bower of mismatched crepe-paper streamers with a five-year-old planted firmly between them and a gray poodle glaring at the groom.
Not once did Molly and Kevin look at each other, not even during the kiss, which was dry, fast, and closemouthed.
Andrew looked up at them and grimaced. "Yucky, mush, mush."
"They're supposed to kiss, you baby," Tess said from behind.
"I'm not a baby!"
Molly leaned down to hug him before he could get worked up. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dan shake Kevin's hand and Phoebe give him a quick embrace. It was awkward and awful, and Molly couldn't wait to get away. Except that was a problem all in itself.
They made a play of sipping a few drops of champagne, but neither of them managed to eat more than a bite of the small white wedding cake. "Let's get out of here," Kevin finally growled in her ear.
Molly didn't have to fabricate a headache. She'd been feeling increasingly ill all afternoon. "All right."
Kevin murmured something about getting on the road before it snowed.
"A good idea," Phoebe said. "I'm glad you're taking us up on our offer."
Molly tried to look as if the prospect of spending a few days in Door County with Kevin weren't her worst nightmare.
"It's the best thing to do," Dan agreed. "The house is far enough away that you'll avoid the worst of the media stir when we make the announcement."
"Besides," Phoebe said with phony cheer, "it'll give you a chance to get to know each other better."
"Can't wait for that," Kevin muttered.
They didn't bother changing their clothes, and ten minutes later Molly was kissing Roo good-bye. Under the circumstances she thought it best to leave her dog with her sister.
As Molly and Kevin drove off in his Ferrari, Tess and Julie wrapped crepe-paper streamers around Andrew while Hannah cuddled up to her father.
"My car's at an Exxon station a couple of miles from here. Turn left when you get to the highway." The idea of being closed up together for the seven-and-a-half-hour trip to northern Wisconsin had been more than her nerves could handle.
Kevin slipped on his silver-framed Revos. "I thought we'd agreed on the Door County plan."
"I'll drive there in my own car."
"Suits me."
Kevin followed her directions and pulled into the service station a few minutes later. His arm pressed her waist as he leaned across her to open the passenger door. Molly took the keys from her purse and climbed out.
He roared off without a word.
She cried all the way to the Wisconsin border.
Kevin made a detour to his home in one of Oak Brook's gated communities, where he changed into jeans and a flannel shirt. He picked up a couple of CDs by a Chicago jazz group he liked, along with a book about climbing Everest that he'd forgotten to stick in his suitcase. He thought about fixing himself something to eat since he wasn't in any hurry to get back on the road, but he'd lost his appetite along with his freedom.
As he headed north into Wisconsin on I-94, he tried to remember the way he'd felt when he'd swum with the reef sharks only a little over a week ago, but he couldn't recapture the sensation. Rich athletes were a target for predatory women, and the notion that she might have gotten pregnant on purpose had occurred to him. But Molly didn't need the money. No, she'd been after kicks instead, and she hadn't bothered to consider the consequences.
North of Sheboygan his cell phone rang. When he answered, he heard the voice of Charlotte Long, a woman who'd been his parents' friend for as long as he could remember. Like his parents, she'd spent her summers at his family's campground in northern Michigan, and she still returned there every June. He'd been out of contact with her until his mother's death.
"Kevin, your Aunt Judith's attorney just called me again."
"Terrific," he muttered. He remembered Charlotte talking with his father and mother after the daily service in the Tabernacle. Even in his earliest memories they'd all seemed ancient.
At the time of his birth his parents' well-ordered lives had centered on the Grand Rapids church where his father had been pastor, the books they'd loved, and their scholarly hobbies. They had no other children, and they didn't have a clue what to do with a lively little boy they loved with all their hearts but didn't understand.
Please try to sit still, sweetheart.
How did you get so dirty?
How did you get so sweaty?
Not so fast.
Not so loud.
Not so fierce.
Football, son? I believe my old tennis racket is stored in the attic. Let's try that instead?
Even so, they'd attended his games because that's what good parents did in Grand Rapids. He still remembered looking up into the stands and catching sight of their anxious, mystified faces.
They must have wondered how they hatched you.
That's what Molly had said when he'd told her about them. She might be wrong about everything else, but she sure had been right about that.
"He said you haven't called him." The note of accusation was strong in Charlotte's voice.
"Who?"
"Your Aunt Judith's attorney. Pay attention, Kevin. He wants to talk about the campground."
Even though Kevin had known what Charlotte was going to say, his hands tightened on the steering wheel. Conversations about the Wind Lake Campground always made him tense, which was why he avoided them. It was the place where the gap between himself and his parents had been the most painful.
The campground had been established by his greatgrandfather on some land he'd bartered for in remote northeastern Michigan during the late 1800s. From the beginning it had served as a summer gathering place for Methodist religious revivals. Since it was located on an inland lake instead of on the ocean, it never acquired the fame of campgrounds like Ocean Grove, New Jersey, or Oak Bluffs on Martha's Vineyard, but it had the same gingerbread cottages, as well as a central Tabernacle where services had been held.
Growing up, Kevin had been forced to spend summers there as his father conducted daily services for the dwindling number of elderly people who came back each year. Kevin was always the only child.
"You realize the campground is yours now that Judith has died," Charlotte said unnecessarily.