you think she looked pretty?”
“Sure,” I ran my hair through Taylor’s straight, dark hair. “I guess I just think you’re beautiful the way you are.”
“Wait till you see me with ringlets,” Taylor said.
On our way down to breakfast, I stuck my head in the guest room, and was relieved to see Jill sleeping. Angus took Willie for his run while I made oatmeal and toast. After we’d eaten, I poured a mug of coffee and took it up to Jill. “Rise and shine,” I said.
“Just ten more minutes,” she mumbled.
“Not for the bride,” I said.
Jill sat up and took the mug gratefully. “You’re a lifesaver,” she said.
“Proud to be your java-enabler,” I said. “Rapti’s coming by in twenty minutes to work her magic.”
Jill got out of bed, walked over to the mirror, and squinted at herself. “I hope she’s bringing some industrial-strength MAC concealer. She’s got serious work ahead.”
Rapti Lustig didn’t reach for the MAC III, but she did make judicious use of the skills she’d acquired during her ten years as a makeup person at NationTV. She gave Jill and me facials that left us dewy-skinned, and smoothed our deep-conditioned hair into styles that were as elegant as they were understated.
There was nothing subtle about my daughter’s ’do. Using the photo clipped from the magazine as her guide, Rapti spray-gelled and dry-rolled Taylor’s hair into a medusa explosion of ringlets that was nothing short of spectacular. Taylor usually displayed a healthy lack of interest in her appearance, but that morning, she couldn’t take her eyes off herself. As soon as the last spritz of hairspray kissed her curls, she leapt out of the chair. “Okay,” she said, grabbing my hand, “let’s hit the mall.”
Despite my concern about Jill’s marriage, Taylor’s buoyancy was infectious, and I had my own private source of pleasure. A permanent relationship with Gabe Leventhal was out of the question. He and I lived in parallel universes, but, at fifty-five, I was old enough to know that carpe diem wasn’t just a phrase from Latin class. A walk in the snow with a man who could make me laugh was nothing to sneeze at, so I left the house carrying the tool prized by those who know the value of seizing the moment: a cellphone.
Taylor loves malls, and that day I did too. The holiday decorations, the lights, the contact buzz that came from jostling shoppers giddy with impossible last-minute quests, and – a bonus – the chance to scope out the trees that were being raffled off for the symphony’s year-end fundraiser. I was a fan of the symphony, and Taylor was a fan of glitz, so we had bought a dozen tickets. The Scotch pine in our living room was, in my daughter’s opinion, okay but boring, and for two weeks she had fantasized about winning a second more spectacular tree. She had savoured some seductive possibilities before she settled on a feathery confection titled Snowfall at Swan Lake. The draw was that afternoon, so between stops in front of mirrors to verify that her curls were still sizzling, Taylor scrutinized her favourite, while I reminded her that the symphony had sold hundreds of tickets and that winners were promised a tree but not necessarily the tree of their choice. She listened politely, then pointed out that if we moved the parson’s bench and the grandmother clock out of the front hall, there would be a ton of room for Snowfall at Swan Lake. As I checked our home voice mail again to see if there was a message from Gabe, I knew Taylor wasn’t the only one betting against the spread.
The man in the specialty shop gift-wrapped Jill’s garter gratis and gave Taylor a sprig of real holly tied with a tartan bow for her hair, so we were heading home in high spirits when we ran into Danny Jacobs, Taylor’s arch-enemy from grade three. The attack was swift and lethal. Danny took in Taylor’s curls and snorted. “You know what you look like? One of those Chia Pets. You know – like on TV – Ch-Chi-Ch-Chia.”
Taylor’s eyes widened in horror, then she raced through the mall doors to the parking lot. On the way home, she slumped miserably in the passenger seat, and as soon as we pulled up in front of the house, she ripped the holly out of her hair and bolted. By the time I got inside, she had disappeared, and Angus was standing at the foot of the stairs, shaking his head. “What’s with Taylor? She blazed by me without saying anything. She didn’t even take off her jacket and boots.”
“We ran into Danny Jacobs in the mall,” I said. “He told your sister her new hairstyle made her look like a Chia Pet.”
The corners of Angus’s mouth twitched.
“If you’re going to laugh, go outside,” I said. “Taylor’s already suffered enough.”
When I heard the sound of the shower, I started upstairs. “I’d better see how she’s doing,” I said. “By the way, were there any calls when we were out?”
“A couple for Jill. She seemed kind of upset.”
“Did she say why?”
“Nope. She just said she needed some fresh air. She put Willie on his leash and took off for the park.” Angus lowered his voice. “Do you know what I think? I think she may have changed her mind about getting married.”
My pulse quickened. “What makes you say that?”
“Last night, Bryn told me Jill and her father aren’t in love.”
“Does Bryn think they shouldn’t get married?”
Angus shrugged. “I don’t think she cares. The only thing Bryn’s interested in is moving to New York.”
Remembering how Jill glowed when she talked about having a daughter, my heart sank. Last night Evan had said Jill had to take the father to get the daughter. Now it seemed the daughter had to take Jill to get her New York Moment. Expediency all around. In my opinion, it was a hell of a way to start a new life.
The bathroom door was shut, but unlocked. I rapped a couple of times and when there was no answer, I walked in, sat down on the toilet seat, and waited for Taylor to emerge from the steam. When, finally, she stepped out of the shower stall, her skin was scarlet, her hair dripping, and her lower lip quivering. She thrust her head towards me. “Is it normal now?” she asked.
I picked up a towel and began to dry her hair. “It’s normal,” I said. “After a while, I can do it in French braids if you want.”
The sound she made was somewhere between a snort and a sob. “That’d be okay,” she said, then she streaked to her room. I went downstairs, put on some soup for lunch, and tried not to stare at the phone. By the time Taylor came down, the phone still hadn’t rung. We ate a bowl of chicken with stars and made French braids. When Jill and Willie got back, my daughter was sitting at the kitchen table drawing a cartoon of Danny Jacobs with a thatch of hair that looked as if it had been attacked by termites. Jill glanced at Taylor’s braids and then at me.
“Change of plans,” I said.
Jill poured herself a cup of coffee. “It seems to be the day for it,” she said. “Our judge called this morning. He has the flu, so he’s sending a replacement.”
“We can live with that,” I said. “That little man’s fatuous level was off the charts.”
Jill sat down at the table. “I don’t think you’re going to be so breezy about the next change. Gabe had to go back to New York. Felix is our new best man.”
I felt a flare of panic. “Is everything all right?”
“Apparently, Gabe had a heart flutter,” Jill said tightly. “Evan says he’s a real hypochondriac. Anyway, he went back to New York to be close to his doctor.” Jill rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “Do you think there’s a significant pattern here?”
My mind was racing. “In what way?”
“First the judge, then the best man. I can’t see everything going wrong on the day of my wedding without believing that someone is trying to tell me something. ‘From shadows and symbols into truth.’ That’s what Cardinal Newman said.”
“Where did Cardinal Newman come from?” I asked. “I thought you had fallen away.”
Jill rolled her eyes. “Fallen away, yes, but not unmarked. A Catholic education is like stigmata, perpetually suppurating. It’s been thirty-five years since Sister Phyllis Mary filled me in on what boys want from girls, but I still can’t sit next to a man in a car without remembering that I should leave room for the hips of the Virgin between me and my date.”
Despite everything, I smiled. Jill caught my response. “I know it sounds crazy, but the Church was right about a lot of things. My sex life wouldn’t have been such a disaster if I’d left room for the hips of the Virgin between me and most of the men I’ve known. And you and I are both old enough to know that Cardinal Newman
