Elin Hilderbrand - The Rumor

“Forget marriage for a second,” she said. “Do you want children?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve always wanted children.”

Grace sipped her wine. Tears sprang to her eyes for no reason. Despite the complications with Hope’s birth, Grace could still have children. But she was old. Benton deserved someone younger, someone like McGuvvy.

He wiped the tear from her cheek. “Grace, please. Let’s not have this conversation here. It’s not a good idea.”

“Yes, well,” Grace said. “I wasn’t the one who brought up McGuvvy.”

“I didn’t bring her up either,” Benton said. “Your friend did.”

“God,” Grace said. “That woman is not my friend.” She stood up from the bench and finished her champagne. She was suddenly angry, though she couldn’t say why. She and Benton were having a tête-à-tête, as usual, but it had ventured into uncomfortable territory, and their sensibilities were no longer dovetailing so nicely. Grace should never have exposed their tender new love to the outside world.

Benton pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Grace so she could dry her tears.

“My grandmother would have loved you,” Grace said.

“You think?” Benton said. He held one of Grace’s hands and gazed down at her with that look he had. She thought, He’s going to…

But at that moment, Blond Sharon came clomping down the flagstone path with Jody Rouisse in tow.

“Oh, there you are!” Blond Sharon said. “We were wondering what became of the two of you.”

Jody said, “Are you okay, Grace? Have you been crying?”

“I’m fine,” Grace said, sniffing, shoring herself up to smile.

“We’re going to hit la grande table,” Benton said. “I’m starving.”

“I love the stinky cheese!” Blond Sharon said.

As Grace and Benton strolled out of the hidden koi pond, Grace said, “I want to get out of here.”

“You read my mind,” Benton said. “That woman is stinky cheese.”

“They all are,” Grace said. Suddenly, Grace felt like Eleanor must have when Grace introduced her to the henhouse. Hillary and Dolly had nearly pecked her half to death.

Grace found Jean Burton and made their excuses.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving so soon,” Jean Burton said. “I haven’t made my speech yet.”

“I’ll send a check,” Grace said, giving Jean a hug. She hated to go, but she couldn’t stay another second.

As soon as they were out on the street, Benton said, “Where to…?” The sun had finally set, and darkness was closing in.

“Should we go for a drink?” Grace said.

“We could,” Benton said. “Or we could drive to the beach?”

“That seems risky,” Grace said. They climbed into Grace’s Range Rover, and Grace started the engine. She didn’t want the evening to end-she never wanted it to end-but neither did she want to get caught in a compromising situation. She turned off Fair Street, onto Lucretia Mott Lane. The only reasonable thing to do was to take Benton home.

“Stop the car,” Benton said.

“What?” Grace said.

“Stop the car.”

Grace did as she was told. Her headlights shone down the length of the narrow lane. Nobody was around. Benton got out of the car.

“Where are you going?” Grace asked.

“Come with me, please. Shut off the headlights.”

“I can’t just block the road,” Grace said.

“Nobody uses this road,” Benton said.

Grace switched off the lights and got out of the car. It was dark now, and Lucretia Mott Lane was lined with ancient, leafy trees, trees that had known the Wampanoag Indians, and the Quakers, and the whaling widows.

Benton gathered Grace up in his arms and kissed her right in the middle of the street. It was thrilling but terrifying.

She said, “Someone is going to see us.”

He said, “I don’t care. I don’t care who sees us. I love you, Grace. I love you.”

She stared at him; tears stood in her eyes, making everything sharp and clear. “Yes,” she said. “I love you, too. I have never loved anyone the way that I love you.”

Grace drove Benton home, and when he told her that Donovan and Leslie were off island, seeing Lyle Lovett at the Cape Cod Melody Tent, Grace followed him upstairs to his apartment.

How do you see this ending?

She didn’t.

Love the way she experienced it with Benton Coe was dramatic and urgent and all consuming. It was LOVE in capital letters, boldfaced, underlined. It made what she felt for Eddie seem like some other emotion entirely. She liked Eddie and had been charmed by him. He made her laugh and offered her what she so desperately needed: a way out of her house with her stifling parents and overbearing brothers. Eddie had presented her with an opportunity to create a home and raise children the way she wanted. He had let her be the boss and run the show. He had provided her with every material thing she could ask for. She was grateful to Eddie for that, but she did not love him the way that she loved Benton.

When Grace got home, the house was dark and quiet-everyone was either out or asleep-and she was grateful.

She ran right up to her study, to call Madeline.

Grace went to her little garden-club party, and Allegra was out as always, leaving just Eddie and Hope at home. Grace hadn’t made any dinner, which was unusual; she was too consumed with her dress and hair and makeup, Eddie supposed. She looked so beautiful that Eddie almost wished he were going with her. But the garden club… no. He’d rather stick his hand in a nest of killer bees.

What was he supposed to eat? He could scramble some eggs, he supposed. There were five fresh cartons on the counter.

But he could do better than eggs, he thought as Grace drove off in the Range Rover. He knocked on the closed door of Hope’s room.

She swung the door open. “What?”

“Are you hungry?” Eddie asked.

She shrugged. She and Allegra shrugged in exactly the same way; it irritated him.

“Get dressed up,” he said. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”

Thirty minutes later found Eddie and Hope walking up a cobblestone path between two garden cottages, toward the grand front porch of the Summer House. Wafts of good smells came from inside, as well as the sound of the piano, and glasses clinking, conversation and laughter. Eddie’s spirits lifted. He took Hope’s arm. She looked lovely in a white sundress, with her hair in a French braid. She looked like a girl, whereas Allegra always looked scarily like a woman.

Eddie and Hope were seated at a table by one of the front windows. The Summer House had uneven wooden floors and the rustic, genteel feel of a summer house from the 1940s. The piano player favored Cole Porter. Eddie ordered a martini with a twist, and Hope got a Coke.

When the drinks came, Eddie raised his glass and said, “Cheers, Big Ears.”

Hope said, “This is nice. Thanks, Dad.”

Eddie nearly teared up. He worked his ass off, he hustled like no one else, and yet the three women in his life remained unimpressed. Eddie didn’t need a parade, but it was nice to hear a thank-you every once in a while, an acknowledgment that he was more than just an ATM.

“You’re very welcome.”

Hope ordered the clam chowder and the Caesar salad, and Eddie splurged on the foie gras and the lamb chops. He ordered a good bottle of pinot noir from the Willamette Valley, and then he leaned back in his chair and he said, “So, what’s going on with your sister?”

“I have no idea,” Hope said.

“Really?” Eddie said.

Hope said, “Please tell me you didn’t invite me out to dinner on a recon mission about Allegra. If you want to know about Allegra, Daddy, ask Allegra.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” Eddie said. “I have you here, and I care about you. What’s going on with you?”

Hope shrugged.

“Do you like your job at the rectory?”

“It’s fine.”

“Father Declan isn’t inappropriate with you, is he?” ’

“Dad!” Hope said. “No! Please shut up.”

“A father has to ask,” Eddie said.

“I like Father Declan,” Hope said. “He’s smart. I’m reading John O’Hara’s novel An Appointment in Samarra, and Father Declan said it was one of his favorite books in college.”

The conversation had just gone over Eddie’s head. He liked to tell people he hadn’t read a book since Dune in the tenth grade, but he hadn’t even read Dune all the way through. The last book Eddie had finished was Stuart Little.

“Is it a Catholic novel?” Eddie asked.

“No,” Hope said. “Father Declan is a priest, Dad, but he’s also a person. Not everything he does has to be ‘Catholic.’”

“I know,” Eddie said. He dug into his foie gras. He loved foie gras, but Grace wouldn’t let him order it. She didn’t approve of the way they force-fed the geese. As a raiser of chickens, she was offended by any type of fowl abuse. But Grace wasn’t here now; she was at a garden party.

“I wonder if Mom is having fun at her garden party,” he said.

Hope said, “Don’t you think it’s weird that she took Benton as her date?”

“She took who?”

“Benton Coe? The gardening guy?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Eddie said. “She told me, but I forgot.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Hope said.

Did Eddie think it was weird? Well, it made him a little edgy, maybe, that Grace had dolled herself up into such a knockout for an evening with the gardener. But, although Benton was as big and tall as a Hun, Eddie didn’t find him particularly threatening. He was a man who dealt with roses and tulips. Eddie didn’t think he was gay, but he was definitely emotionally attuned toward the feminine-and this was exactly what Grace needed. She needed someone to talk to about her garden. Grace felt about the garden the way Barbie felt about privacy and the way Putin felt about Russian supremacy. Eddie had never been particularly passionate about anything except making money and running. But the running had been more of a God-given natural talent, which wasn’t quite the same thing.

“No, I don’t think it’s weird,” Eddie said. “Benton is the gardener, and they went to a garden-club event. Maybe I’m crazy, but that makes perfect sense to me. He can teach your mother the names of all the flowers.”

“Mom already knows the names of the flowers,” Hope said.

“Exactly,” Eddie said. He finished the luscious lusciousness that was his foie gras, and then he waved over the waiter to pour his wine. Then a ghastly thought crossed his mind: maybe Grace had heard the rumor about Eddie and Madeline and had orchestrated this “date” with Benton Coe in order to get back at him? But no-if Grace had heard the rumor, Eddie would have had a knife to his balls immediately. He didn’t want to think about Grace and Benton Coe, and he sure as hell didn’t want to think about the rumor about him and Madeline. He just wanted to enjoy dinner with his daughter; it had been so long since he’d been out.

Hope was finishing up her molten-chocolate lava cake, and Eddie was paying the bill-the lamb chops had cost forty-six dollars! How had he not noticed that before he ordered them?-when the chief of police approached the table.

“Eddie!” the Chief said.

Eddie jumped out of his chair. “Chief, how are you?” The two men shook hands, and Eddie presented Hope. “My daughter Hope. Hope, you know Chief Kapenash?”

Hope smiled shyly, whereas Eddie knew Allegra would have been up out of her chair, shaking his hand, eager to impress. But Eddie would not compare.

“You’re having a father-daughter dinner?” the Chief asked.

“We are,” Eddie said. How fortuitous that the Chief could witness this moment of excellent parenting. He was not by himself and not with Madeline or any other woman. He was with his daughter. It was the best P.R. Eddie could have asked for-and it was happening organically. “Her mother and sister are out, so we’re taking advantage.”

“Nice,” the Chief said. “I’m just about to sit down and have a romantic dinner with my wife. Good to see you, Eddie.”

“Good to see you, Chief,” Eddie said. He remained standing until the Chief wandered away. The piano player launched into “Some Enchanted Evening.” Eddie beamed at Hope.

She said, “Okay, I’m finished. Can we go?”

“We can go,” Eddie said. He ushered Hope in front of him and walked out of the restaurant, indiscriminately waving to everyone he saw.

A phone call came to the house in the middle of the night. Hope rolled over. She felt sick to her stomach; the food at the Summer House had been rich, and when Eddie had gotten up to go to the men’s room, Hope had sneaked a sip of his martini, just to find out what it tasted like.