Elin Hilderbrand - The Love Season

And yet something about the list bugged her.

Renata dried off, moisturized, and slipped into her bikini. She wanted to have a swim and lie on the small beach in front of the house until it was time for lunch. But first she sat on the guest room bed-which had, miraculously, been made. ( Made? Renata thought. She hadn’t bothered. Oh, maid. Nicole .) Renata yearned for Action, who at that very moment would be doing what? Canoeing down a cold river? Gently dabbing calamine lotion on a camper’s mosquito bites? Action would be able to deconstruct Suzanne Driscoll’s list; she’d turn it into mincemeat, into dust. She would render it meaningless. Either that or she would become indignant; she would put Renata’s outburst to shame with her ranting and raving. Who does that woman think she is? The Sherry Netherland? Bonsai trees? Action was unpredictable-at once both passionate and unflappable, always smart, always funny, always exciting. Would Action Colpeter feel comfortable in this house? Would she be welcome in this house? Renata seethed with guilt. Her own best friend didn’t know about her engagement. Renata had tried to call her the second she got home from Lespinasse, the ring burning on her finger, but when Action’s cell phone rang Major had answered. Action’s cell phone had been left behind in her parents’ brownstone on Bleecker Street. And so Renata was stuck with her guilt. The one person who should know about her engagement-who should have known before everyone else-didn’t.

Or no, not the one person. One of two people.

Renata fished her cell phone out of her bag, stared at it for a few long seconds, then dialed her father.

She was so nervous she thought she might gag. This was, most definitely, not in the game plan that she and Cade had devised. They had planned to tell Daniel Knox of their impending nuptials together, in person, in Manhattan-on their turf, either over cocktails at “the little place” that now belonged to Cade on East Seventy-third Street or at a dinner that Cade would pay for, in a restaurant that Cade would select.

It doesn’t matter how we tell him , Renata said. He’s going to say no. He’ll forbid it .

Don’t be silly , Cade said. Your father loves you. If you tell him you want to get married, he’ll be happy for you .

Renata was tempted to inform Cade of just how wrong he was, but Cade was a born diplomat. He accepted everyone’s point of view, and then, by virtue of his patience and tolerance and goodwill, he inevitably won everyone over to his side. But not this time.

Still, Renata had agreed to wait. She was relieved that telling Daniel would be left until the last possible minute and that Cade would be the one to break the news. Renata couldn’t pinpoint what was making her press the issue on her father now. Was it Suzanne’s list or a general sense of propriety? Either way, her father needed to know.

Daniel Knox picked up after the first ring. Eleven o’clock on a gorgeous summer Saturday: Renata felt dismayed that he was at home. He would be alone, working, or catching up on Newsweek , when he should be at a Yankee game, or playing golf.

“Daddy?”

“Honey?” he said. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great!” Renata said. She wished she were wearing clothes. She felt exposed in her bikini. “I’m on Nantucket. At the Driscolls’. It’s sunny.”

“You’re having fun?”

“Yep. I ran down to the Beach Club this morning.”

“You did? Oh, geez.” He paused. Which, of a hundred things, was he thinking? “I hope you stayed on the bike path. That’s why it’s there.”

“I stayed on the path,” she said.

“Okay, good. How was it then? The club, I mean.”

“Beautiful.”

“Did you go inside? Talk to anyone?”

“No.”

“I don’t even know if the same people own it,” Daniel Knox said.

“I don’t know, either,” Renata said. She felt like she was spinning; she was dizzy and nauseous. “Daddy? Listen, I have something to tell you.”

“You’ve called Marguerite,” he said. His voice oozed disappointment. “Oh, honey. I told you, she’s not-”

“No,” Renata said, though this was in response to his digression and not to the accusation, which was true. “I mean, yes, I did call Marguerite, but that’s not what-”

“She’s not in her right mind,” Daniel Knox said. “I don’t know how to make you understand. She may sound cogent, but she has serious mental and emotional problems, and I don’t want you talking to her. You’re not going to try and see her, are you?”

“Tonight,” Renata said. “For dinner.”

“No,” Daniel said. “Oh, honey, no.”

“You can’t stop me from having dinner with my own godmother,” Renata said. “I’m an adult.”

“You’re my daughter. I would hope you’d respect my wishes.”

“Well, I have something else to tell you and you’re not going to like it any better.”

“Oh, really?” Daniel said. “And what is that?”

“I’m getting married.”

Silence.

“To Cade, Daddy. Cade and I are getting married. He proposed and I said yes.”

Silence.

“Daddy? Dad? Hello? Say something, please.”

There was nothing, save the steady sound of breathing. So he hadn’t hung up. He was reeling. Or strategizing. What was the phrase he’d repeated all her life, to anyone who asked him how he did it, raising a daughter alone? I spend all my spare time trying to stay one step ahead of her . Everyone always chuckled at this declaration, understanding it to be a comical, fruitless effort on his part. But this silence was unsettling. She had expected shock, anger, an “over my dead body.” This would mellow into an insistence that she wait. Please finish college. Graduate. You’re too young. I’ll talk to Cade myself. I’ll take care of it .

But the silence. Weird. Dread sat in her stomach like a cold stone. Regret. Should she have waited, adhered to Cade’s plan?

“Daddy?”

“Yes?” he said, and now his voice sounded…amused. Was that possible? Did he think she was kidding? She fiddled with her ring. That was another reason to tell him in person: He would be confronted by the reality of twelve thousand dollars on her finger. This was not something he could laugh off; he couldn’t turn his head and hope it would go away.

“Did you hear me? What I just said? Cade and I are getting married.”

“I heard you.”

“Well, what do you think?”

He laughed in a way that she could not decipher. He sounded genuinely happy, delighted even. Had he spent all his spare time practicing that laugh? Because it threw her off-balance; she felt like she was going to fall.

“I think it’s wonderful, darling. Congratulations!”

After she hung up, she sat on the bed as still as a statue. She felt the air on her skin. Another girl would be jumping for joy or, at the very least, wallowing in sweet relief. Renata, however, felt outsmarted, tricked, and yes, betrayed. It wasn’t that she wanted her father to keep her from marrying Cade; she had been so sure that he would, so certain that she could predict his very words, that she had never considered the engagement to be real. But now it was real. She wore a real diamond and had what sounded like her father’s real blessing.

The phone in the house rang. Cade? She couldn’t bear to talk to him. She picked up her monogrammed canvas beach bag-a welcome-to-Nantucket present that Suzanne Driscoll gave to all of her overnight guests-and stuffed it with a striped beach towel, her sunglasses, her book-and, as an afterthought, Suzanne’s list. Then she raced downstairs. She had to get out of the house.