Morning Glory(17)

“Hi,” I say quickly. “I—I just—I just paddled over to invite you to our cocktail party tonight.”

“Oh,” he says, smiling.

The silence between us feels thick and stifling. I don’t know what more to say, so I shuffle back toward the canoe.

“Did you enjoy having a look?”

I shake my head. “Having a look at what?”

“My house,” he says. “I saw you peeking inside.”

My cheeks burn and I feel foolish, like a little girl who’s been caught sneaking into her mother’s makeup bag.

“I wasn’t peeking,” I say. “I was only trying to see if you were home.”

“Of course,” he says. He’s still smiling, and his head is cocked to the right as if he finds my embarrassment highly amusing.

“Listen,” I say, stepping back into the boat. “Forget it.” I untie the canoe and give myself a shove backward. “I was only trying to be hospitable.”

I secure the canoe to our dock just as Naomi and Gene appear in front of our deck. “Good evening, Penny,” Gene says.

I step out of the canoe, feeling Collin’s eyes on my back, but I don’t turn around.

Naomi takes a step toward me and straightens a wayward lock of my hair with her hand. “You look shaken, dear,” she says, casting a glance in the direction of Collin’s houseboat. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s perfect,” I say in my most confident voice.

She hands me a sad-looking yellow chrysanthemum in a terra-cotta pot. “They’re such cheerful flowers, aren’t they?”

I nod, but I do not tell her that I hate chrysanthemums and that their skunky, peppery scent gives me a headache.

“Let’s go inside,” I say, setting the plant down by the front door. “I’ll make you a drink while we wait for the others.”

I watch from the kitchen as Naomi slips out of her sweater, revealing her bare arms. They’re long and beautiful, and I inwardly wish I could wear sleeveless tops with an ounce of the confidence that she does. Dex kisses her cheek, then shakes Gene’s hand. Naomi tugs at her diamond necklace rhythmically as Dex says something funny that I can’t detect over the sound of the cocktail shaker. Everyone laughs. I keep shaking, vigorously. Dex likes a layer of ice across the top of his martinis.

I select three glasses, pierce a few olives with toothpicks, then fill each to the top with a shaky hand. While entertaining makes me anxious and nervous, Dex is a born host.

Tom and Lenora arrive as I set the drinks on the tray. They’re closer to Dex’s age than mine. I feel like a schoolgirl, but I remember I am Dex’s wife. Mrs. Dexter Wentworth. I smile at Ellen and Lou March and Joe and Leanne Hofstra. Dex dated Leanne a long time ago, when he first moved to Boat Street. Long before me. Leanne is beautiful and refined, a practicing attorney before she met Joe. I lift the tray in my hand and steady myself, as I overhear snippets of a conversation between Naomi and Leanne. They’re standing in front of the doorway and speaking in hushed voices.

“The problem with marriages these days is that there are so many men who choose wives who are not on their same intellectual plane,” Naomi says, before taking a long sip of her martini.

Leanne nods.

“I call it the Mommy syndrome,” Naomi continues. “Men think they want a mother, but what they need is a woman. A partner, not someone to tuck them in at night with a mug of warm milk.”

Leanne says something in response, but I can’t make out her words.

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Exactly,” she says.

My heart beats faster. I try not to dwell on Naomi’s words. Of course, she wasn’t talking about me. And yet I can’t help but wonder if that’s what she, and everyone else, thinks of Dex’s and my marriage. Why does my left hand feel numb? I take a deep breath and make my way to the living room, where everyone is hovering around Dex. He’s so close, but there may as well be miles between us. I don’t know what he’s saying. It’s all a blur. Just his voice and then roars of laughter. He is a star. I walk ahead, eager to take my place beside him. Mrs. Dexter Wentworth. But my heel catches on the carpet, and I lunge forward. I lose my grasp on the tray, and it slips from my hands. I hear the sounds of women gasping and glass shattering.

“Darling, are you all right?” Dex croons, leaning over me. His dark eyes are filled with concern. Then Lenora and Tom. Lou and Ellen and Joe. Leanne. Gene, and then Naomi. Her arms are folded as if I’ve spoiled her evening.

I find Dex’s face again, and I shake my head apologetically. “I’m sorry. I’m so clumsy.”