Well, it was nearly impossible to plan a bachelorette party during the week, but Margot gave it a shot and threw together something in Boca Raton the week of Jenna’s spring break from Little Minds, but again Autumn couldn’t attend, so Margot canceled.
Then Jenna told Margot she thought the real problem with Autumn was money. She was, after all, waiting tables.
Margot wondered why Autumn was waiting tables. She had a degree from the College of William and Mary, where she had majored in political science. She could have done anything with that—grad school, law school, think tanks. She could have taught like Jenna or gone into business, an Internet start-up, anything. Margot was impatient with people who didn’t live up to their potential. This, she supposed, was the result of having been married to Drum Sr. Drum Sr. was so unambitious, it was like he was moving backward.
Margot ignored Autumn’s dissatisfaction with their table. She asked the waiter (who was a woman, but one of the things Margot had learned over the years from Autumn was that the term “waitress,” like the term “actress,” was outdated) for a wine list. The wine list appeared, and Margot asked Jenna, “White or red?”
Jenna waved a hand. “I don’t care. Either.”
Margot didn’t ask Finn or Autumn for input, even though she could feel Autumn staring at her. Probably Autumn wanted the wine list. Well, too bad, Margot was going to exercise her sovereign right as maid of honor and pick the wine.
One white, one red. Margot preferred Sancerres and Malbecs. Sancerres reminded her of Drum Sr. (he had wooed her the first summer they dated by taking her to a restaurant called the Blue Bistro—which had since closed—and plying her with Sancerre), and Malbecs reminded her of Edge (that night at Picholine, which she could not allow herself to dwell on). Margot wished she could look at a wine list and not think of men at all. She wished she could look at a wine list and think about herself.
She handed the list to Autumn. “Would you mind picking the wine?”
Autumn looked so happy that Margot immediately felt petty for denying her this tiny pleasure in the first place. “I’d love to!”
Margot leaned back in her chair and tried to relax. Jenna and Finn were talking between themselves sotto voce, which Margot found rude, if completely predictable. Finn seemed to still be in foul humor. She had always been petulant and spoiled. When Finn was seventeen, she had landed a job on Nantucket, nannying for the Worthington family, who were friends of Beth and Doug Carmichael. Finn had lasted thirty-six hours before she quit. She missed Connecticut, she claimed, and she missed her parents. What Finn really wanted was to return to Darien in order to have sex with her boyfriend, Charlie Beaudette, while her parents—the ones she purportedly missed—were on vacation for two weeks in the south of France. Beth and Doug had tried to talk Finn into staying—she would outgrow her homesickness, she would have a wonderful summer—but Finn was determined to go, and the Carmichaels were powerless to make her stay. Margot had been on Nantucket that same week and had a front-row seat for the drama. Back then, Drum Jr. was less than a year old, and Margot was working as an associate principal at Miller-Sawtooth. As a new mother and a placement professional, Margot had determined that Finn lacked character, had no sense of responsibility, and no hustle. Margot could not abide people without hustle. Finn’s inner core, Margot suspected, was as soft as a rotten banana.
Thankfully, the wine arrived, and they ordered their meals. Jenna turned to include Autumn and Margot in the conversation, although Margot couldn’t keep track of what they were talking about from one minute to the next. Her mind was on other things. She had ordered the crab cake to start, Autumn had the chowder, Jenna and Finn had both gotten the foie gras. Margot thought, in no particular order: It was funny the way Jenna and Finn always ordered the same thing, and they had dressed alike. Had they ever had a fight? If so, Margot didn’t know about it. They had been friends for more than twenty-five years, and it had always been harmony. The summer of the nanny job, Jenna had supported Finn’s decision to go home. She was the one who had confided to Margot that the real reason Finn wanted to go home was to screw Charlie Beaudette. Jenna had found it romantic—instead of stupid, immature, and shortsighted.
Margot allowed that her bitterness regarding Finn might have been born of jealousy. Margot herself had never had a friend the way Jenna had Finn. She had had friends, of course, some casual, some closer, but Margot and her friends had bickered and switched alliances; this had been true in high school, and then again in college. As an adult, Margot and Drum Sr. had become friends with the people whose children went to school with their children, and did the same sports and activities as their children—which was, Margot realized, an insufficient litmus test for friendship. Few of those friendships had survived her divorce. None of the couples she and Drum used to hang out with called her for dinner parties anymore. Now, when Margot saw those people, they scheduled the children’s playdates like business transactions.