Ann and Jim stood together in the middle of the tent, and she hugged him tight, and he kissed the top of her head. The band played “Georgia.” They were, for the moment, the only guests at their party, and they swayed to the music. It was perfect right now. Too bad she couldn’t stop time and have it stay just like this.
Forty-five minutes later, the band was in full swing. They were playing “Riverboat Shuffle,” and the whiskey sours and Lynchburg Lemonades were flowing freely. When Jenna and Stuart entered the tent—looking fresh faced and completely reenergized, as though they’d slept for ten hours then awoken and gone for a bracing swim in the ocean (although Ann knew this couldn’t have been the case)—Stuart led his new wife right onto the dance floor and swung her expertly around to “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Everyone burst into applause. Because it was a buffet, people could get up and move around, switch seats if they wanted to, stand at the edge of the dance floor and tap their toes, then go out and dance to a few numbers. Yes, everyone complained about being tired and hung over, but this seemed to add to the conviviality of the gathering rather than detract from it.
“Hair of the dog!” Robert Lewis said as he toasted Ann with his bourbon.
“Great party!” Autumn said. She and H.W. were attached at the hip. Ann watched H.W. fetch Autumn a plate of barbecue, saying, “You have to try this. It’s from the most famous smoke pit in Carolina.” He actually went so far as to feed Autumn the first bite, and Ann had to look away.
Ann hadn’t eaten yet; she was too busy talking and laughing, and then taking a quiet minute to observe and appreciate. Doug Carmichael seemed subdued, and Ann didn’t see Pauline anywhere. She approached Doug and said, “Thank you so much for last night. It was magnificent.”
Doug smiled and raised his drink. “They’re great kids, they deserve the best.”
Ann touched her glass to his own. “Is Pauline coming?”
Doug cast his eyes down at his plate, which held a gnawed chicken leg, the crusts of an English muffin, and a smear of ketchup. “Pauline headed home,” he said. “There were some things she had to do back in Connecticut.”
“Oh,” Ann said. She had the urge to sit next to Doug and see if she could get him to open up—why had Pauline run from the church? Was everything okay? After all, Doug and Pauline were now Ann’s family; someday they would all be grandparents to the same children. But Ann was a politician, not a therapist; in conversation, she had always been a surface glider rather than a deep digger.
As Ann was wondering what to say next to Doug Carmichael, she saw Helen walk into the party.
Helen. Jaw-dropping, impossible-to-miss Helen was wearing a fire-engine red strapless patio dress that flowed in one shocking column from her breasts to the ground. Her hair was tousled and wavy, as though she had just come from the beach. She was on the arm of Skip Lafferty, who was wearing a navy blazer and a red bow tie that matched Helen’s dress. The two of them were so tall and so striking that nearly everyone turned to gawk at them. There was a lull in the tent, then the band launched into “A Good Man Is Hard to Find.”
“Excuse me,” Ann said to Doug. “I have to go say hello.”
Ann marched over to Helen and Skip. She knew she should wait until Jim was beside her, but there wasn’t time. She was the hostess of this party; she would greet her guests. It was, of course, unspeakably rude that Helen had brought Skip with her when she’d only RSVP’d for one—but at this point, Ann had ceased to be surprised at the woman’s lack of breeding. When Ann got home, she was going to secretly send Helen a copy of Emily Post in an unmarked envelope.
“Hello, Helen,” Ann said. She held out a hand, but Helen insisted on bending down to execute the ludicrous European double-cheek kiss. There was a slit to the knee in Helen’s patio dress, and Ann caught a glimpse of the red patent leather platform sandals Helen was wearing, which added at least three inches to her already formidable height. Ann was so much shorter, she felt like a child. Why would someone who was already so tall wear platform shoes? She liked lording her height over everyone else, Ann supposed, and Skip Lafferty was such a sideshow giant, she could wear whatever shoes she wanted. Ann offered her hand to Skip. “Skip, I’m Ann Graham. We met briefly yesterday morning.”
Skip shook her hand and smiled. “Yes, I remember. Hello again. Thank you for including me.”
“Oh, you’re welcome,” Ann said. She turned toward the party, thinking, Honestly, the nerve of the woman! In one corner of the tent, she could see Olivia Lewis and Jim both eyeballing her. “Well, it’s a buffet, so get a drink and help yourself. Enjoy the music.”