Beautiful Day(109)

But Jethro vetoed it. He can be prudish that way.





DOUG


The band played “The First Man You Remember,” from Aspects of Love, and Doug took Jenna into his arms and danced with her alone in the spotlight while everyone else looked on. I want to be the first man you remember, I want to be the last one you forget, I want to be the one you always turn to, I want to be the one you won’t regret. Doug recalled sitting in the third row orchestra of the darkened Broadhurst Theatre on Broadway watching Aspects with Beth and Jenna. Doug had held Jenna’s ten-year-old hand during the song, and Beth had whispered over the top of Jenna’s blond head, “You’ll have to dance with her to this song at her wedding.”

Now here they were. Jenna’s blond head rested against the front of Doug’s tuxedo shirt, and she said, “Oh, Daddy, thank you. Thank you for everything.”

Doug felt himself choking up once again. He was unable to speak, but if he had been able to speak, he would have said, I wish I could give you even more. I wish I could wave a magic wand that would ensure that you and Stuart are as happy as…

Instead he squeezed her tighter. Stuart and his mother had joined them on the dance floor and were spinning in circles. Those two could really dance; it was lovely to watch.

Then, all too soon, the song changed to “One,” by U2, which was a song Stuart and Jenna had picked, and Doug realized it was time to hand Jenna over. Jenna and Stuart danced alone while Doug stood at the edge of the dance floor feeling bereft. Then Ann Graham led Jim Graham to the dance floor, and Doug knew he should dance with Pauline, but when he turned, the person his eyes settled on was Margot. Margot was sitting at the head table with tears streaming down her face. Tears? Doug had to check to make sure. Yes, Margot was crying. Doug walked over and offered his hand.

“Dance with me?” he said.

She followed him to the dance floor, and a murmur went through the tent.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Doug asked.

“Oh, Daddy,” she said into his ear. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

It took her two and a half songs to tell the whole story. She was weeping and trembling, and Doug held on to her, rigid with anger. Edge and Margot. Doug heard about the chance meeting outside Ellie’s dance class and the “dates” that followed. They were sleeping together. Doug knew there had been someone in Edge’s life, and he knew that Edge hadn’t wanted to tell him who it was. Because it was Doug’s daughter. Doug wasn’t going to lie—the thought of the two of them together made him physically ill. The cherrystone clams and the phyllo triangles filled with Brie and pear and the three vodka tonics churned in his stomach and threatened to come back up. Doug had always thought of Edge as a sort of uncle to his kids. He and Beth had toyed with asking Edge to be Jenna’s godfather; they had only decided against it because Edge had no religion to speak of.

He was godless. Lawless. He had no morals, no scruples, no guiding principles. He was a shark in the courtroom and a great guy to golf with, and Doug had loved him like a brother—but this. This!

Margot described what Edge had asked her to do at work. Doug couldn’t believe it—he couldn’t believe Edge had asked, and he couldn’t believe Margot had agreed. It was an egregious lapse in judgment.

What had Margot been thinking?

Well, she said tearily, she had been thinking that she loved him.

And then, Rosalie.

Doug had already believed that Edge bringing Rosalie to the wedding was ill-advised, but now it seemed downright cruel. Other couples danced around Margot and Doug—Kevin and Beanie, H.W. and Autumn, Finn and Nick, Ryan and Rhonda, and at least a dozen couples Doug didn’t know, although they all seemed to be having fun. Pauline was sitting at their table, where Ann and Jim Graham had joined her. Doug was grateful; he couldn’t think about Pauline right now. He scanned the tent for Edge. He and Rosalie were admiring the cake in the corner.

Shit, the cake.

Doug passed Margot off to Ryan, and Rhonda went to sit with her mother and the Grahams. Doug strode over to Roger. “How long until they cut the cake?”

Roger checked his watch. “Eighteen minutes,” he said.

“Perfect,” Doug said.

Edge saw him coming, and for a second Doug thought he might try to run. He ought to run, Doug thought. He couldn’t ever remember being this angry.

Edge held his palms up. “Doug,” he said. “Wait.”

Doug grabbed Edge’s forearm. “Rosalie,” he said. “Will you please excuse us?”

Rosalie nodded once sharply, and for an instant the three of them resumed their in-office personae: two partners and a paralegal. “Yes,” she said, ducking deferentially out of the way. “Of course.”