What now? She stormed into the house and took the receiver from him. He said, “And as soon as you’re off, I need you to gather the bridesmaids. Abigail is out front, shooting your father and Jenna right now.”
“Okay,” Margot said.
“We were ahead of the game,” Roger said. “Now we’re running behind.”
“Okay,” Margot said, less patiently. Roger was a slave driver. She reminded herself that this was why she loved him. Into the phone, she said, “Yes? Hello?”
“Margot? Are you okay?”
Margot plopped into a kitchen chair. Around her, the caterers buzzed like bees. It was Drum Sr. He was supposed to call every Saturday at noon his time, three o’clock eastern time, but he was often tardy. It was quarter after three now, which was pretty prompt for him, although quite frankly Margot had forgotten about his weekly call, and furthermore, she wondered why he hadn’t decided to skip the call, since he knew Jenna was getting married today.
“Oh,” Margot said. “Sort of.”
“I tried calling your cell phone, like, forty times,” he said. “Do you have it shut off?”
“I sunk it,” Margot said. “I dropped it in the toilet at the Chicken Box.”
“You’re kidding!” Drum said. He laughed gleefully. “Wow, you must be having more fun than you even expected! Is everybody there? Kevin, Beanie, Nick, Finn, Scott…?”
“Yes, yes, yes, not Scott, he’s in Vegas,” Margot said. She felt a pang of longing then, longing for Drum. He had been her husband for ten years and her boyfriend for two summers before that. He had been a part of this family, especially close to her siblings, especially fond of Beanie, his fellow in-law, and Jenna. How did it feel to not be included in this wedding? Margot should have invited him. He should be able to see the boys in their blazers, Ellie in her white eyelet dress with the matching white sandals.
“Hey, listen,” Margot said. “I could really use your help.”
“Of course,” Drum said. “Anything. What can I do?” His voice was so open and friendly that Margot couldn’t help but think, He is a good guy and a doting father. There had been times in the two years since their divorce when the sound of his voice had irked her. After moving to California, he had acquired a surfer dude twang that made him sound like even more of a slacker and a bum than she already believed him to be. But right now he sounded capable and attentive; he sounded like himself. He sounded like exactly the person Margot needed.
After Ellie got off the phone with her father, she stomped into the house, and Margot trailed her at a discreet distance. From the middle drawer in the bottom row of the thirty-six tiny drawers of the apothecary chest, Ellie pulled out a plastic change purse, this one indistinguishable from the many plastic change purses that she carried in her many pocketbooks and handbags, all of them crammed with shit.
Hoarder, Margot thought. My fault. Because I divorced her father and she’s afraid of giving up anything else.
From the change purse, Ellie pulled out Jenna’s wedding band.
“Am I in trouble?” she asked.
Margot clenched the ring in her palm and sighed. A fifteen-thousand-dollar ring stuffed into one of the drawers of the apothecary chest, where they might not have found it for twenty years, when it would have magically appeared like a prize in a game show. Margot wanted to believe that Ellie would have handed it over of her own volition. But maybe not. Maybe it was a secret she wanted to keep safe. The poor child. “No,” Margot said. “In fact, I have an idea. Follow me.”
“Margot!” a voice called out. “We’re waiting for you!” Margot glanced out the back screen door. Somehow Abigail Pease had lassoed Autumn, Finn, and a freshly made-up Rhonda, who were all standing in a line in the backyard, holding their bouquets. Off to the side stood Jenna and their father, with Kevin and Nick.
“One second,” Margot said.
“No, not one second, Margot,” Roger said. “We need you now.”
“Sorry,” Margot said. She led Ellie by the hand out the side door. She had spent all weekend being a daughter and a sister—and now, finally, she was going to take time to be a mother. She opened the tailgate of her Land Rover and brought out the white cardboard box from E.A.T. bakery. She lifted the hideous bow-and-paper-plate hat out of the box.
“Would you like to wear this when you walk down the aisle?” Margot asked.
“Oh, yes, Mommy!” Ellie said. She jumped up and down and her sandals crunched in the gravel and she clapped her hands. She looked less like a world-weary teenager-before-her-time and more like a six-year-old girl. “Yes, yes, yes!”