Beautiful Day(38)

“There’s an issue with the cars,” Doug said.

“The cars?” Margot said.

“You and Kevin will need your cars to get everyone to the beach,” Doug said. “Pauline will need my car to take the girls to the salon.”

“Oh,” Margot said. The logistics had eluded her. “What is Pauline going to do?”

“She’s going to the salon as well,” Doug said. “She wants to be with Rhonda.”

“Okay,” Margot said. “She can take my appointment.”

Doug nodded. “Thank you, that’s very nice. But what I really need is for you to drive me out to the golf course.”

“Okay,” Margot said. Was this okay? Hadn’t she just committed to making eleven sandwiches, or had she been overruled? She was so addled that she couldn’t remember how the disagreement had ended. “When?”

Doug looked at his watch, the Submariner that Beth had bought him for his fiftieth birthday. “Right now.”

“Right now?”

“My tee time is at ten thirty. I’m playing at Sankaty.”

Margot nearly said, Can’t Kevin take you? Or Nick? But that was ridiculous. Her brothers were never summoned to onerous tasks such as shuttling their father out to his golf game. Kevin probably felt he had to be here to supervise the branch tying or the sandwich ordering. Nick was either flexing his muscles for Finn or waxing his paddleboard. Margot’s mood grew darker. But then it occurred to her that this was exactly what she wanted—some time alone with her father. He must have wanted it, too, and that was why he’d asked her.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Margot negotiated Doug’s Jaguar through town, around the rotary, and out the Milestone Road. Every year as children they had ridden their bikes to Sconset to get ice cream at the market and traipse across the footbridge.

“You and Mom were such good parents,” Margot said. “You gave us a lot of great memories.”

Doug didn’t respond to this. When Margot looked over, she saw him gazing out the window.

“Kevin is probably right,” Margot said. “The only memories I’m giving my kids are ones of me arriving home late from work and calling up samosas from Mumbai Palace.”

Margot could hear her father breathing. He said, “Your mother always worried that you were too hard on yourself. The curse of the firstborn.”

“Sometimes I’m glad she can’t see the ways that I’ve failed.”

“Oh, Margot, you haven’t failed.”

“I’m divorced.”

“So what,” Doug said. “Didn’t work out, nobody’s fault.”

“Carson is in danger of repeating the fourth grade,” Margot said. “Drum Jr. is twelve years old and afraid of the dark. Ellie is a hoarder.”

Doug laughed, and even Margot cracked a smile. But she hadn’t wanted her father alone so she could bemoan the missteps of her own life.

“So what’s going on with you?” she asked. “That text you sent me was pretty startling.”

Doug leaned his head back against the seat and let out a sigh. “Long story,” he said.

“We’ve got a few minutes,” Margot said. It was easy to break the law in the XJ, so she made a point to slow down. “I figured out that Pauline took the Notebook.”

“She didn’t take it,” Doug said. “At least she says she didn’t. Jenna left it on the table at Locanda Verde and Pauline picked it up, then she just forgot to return it.”

“Oh,” Margot said. Was she a horrible person for feeling skeptical about that story?

“I’ve decided to believe her,” Doug said. “It’s easier.”

“Right,” Margot said. “Did you ask if she read any of it?”

“She read it,” Doug said. “She claimed it was making her crazy, not knowing what was in it.”

“Wait,” Margot said. “Did she read the last page?”

“I don’t know,” Doug said. “I would assume so?”

Margot said, “Have you read the last page?”

“No,” Doug said.

“Well, you should,” Margot said. “Make a point of it. Today, when you get home from golf, ask Jenna.”

“I don’t know about that, honey,” Doug said.

Margot said, “I can’t believe Pauline read it. I’m sure you were pissed.”

“I was pissed,” Doug said. “If Jenna had wanted her to read it, she would have offered.”

“So you were pissed enough to tell Pauline not to come?”

“I didn’t want her to come,” Doug said.