Page 4 of The Marriage Pact
KAITLYN
CEDARHURST, ILLINOIS, 12 YEARS LATER
The house felt quiet. Not that it had ever been noisy, but quiet in the way that meant there was no one else there. It was a feeling Kaitlyn was still getting used to. There were days when she could pretend her mom was still sitting in the sunroom at the back of the house, where she did her crafts, or upstairs in bed, reading one of her expansive romances. But such pretense was always short-lived. The quietness saw to that. Kaitlyn had been looking through old photos. Every time she tried to begin “sorting things out,” she’d find herself distracted — old photos, school report cards, her mom’s diaries. There was a lifetime to look through, and her mom had never been much good at keeping things tidy.
What’s this… summer vacation… Why did we drive all the way to Florida? I think she wanted to see Mickey Mouse more than I did.
The photo showed Kaitlyn beaming at the camera, with Mickey and Minnie waving on either side of her. She’d been eight years old, and her mom had taken her to Disney World for her birthday.
She scrimped and saved for that.
Kaitlyn sighed as she leafed through the photos. She’d had a happy childhood, just her and her mom. She’d never known her dad.
“He sold washing machines,” her mom had once told her. “There’s one of you in every town from here to Mexico.” That was all Kaitlyn knew, and all her mom had ever told her. Toward the end, she’d started talking more about the past — regrets, dreams, unfulfilled hopes. It wasn’t that she thought she’d wasted her life, but that it was coming to an end too soon. “But there’s one thing I don’t regret,” she’d said, in that last week when the doctor had told them there was nothing else she could do except keep Kaitlyn’s mom comfortable before the inevitable. “I don’t regret being a mom. I’m so proud of you, Kaitlyn. You’re a wonderful artist. You’re a wonderful person.”
The memory of those words brought a tear to Kaitlyn’s eye. There was so much she still wanted to say. It had been three months now since the funeral. “Time to move on.” That’s what was implied, as though grief could be limited by other people’s expectations. Kaitlyn still cried every night. She felt foolish for doing so. She was thirty years old. She’d put her life on hold to take care of her mom in those last months, moving back from California to live in the house she’d grown up in. The house that now felt so empty without its heart. The buzz of Kaitlyn’s phone interrupted her.
Hey, are we still on for 2 p.m. at the store? It’s so kind of you to offer to help. See you later xx.
Had it not been for the text, Kaitlyn would’ve forgotten she’d promised to help Rachel with the wedding favors that afternoon. She’d made no progress at all with “sorting things out,” but therewas always another day. Putting away the albums, she vowed not to get distracted next time, and, picking up her coat, she hurried out of the house, glancing at the countertop in the kitchen, littered with half-finished ceramics.
More jobs to finish.
Since leaving college, Kaitlyn had established herself as one of San Francisco’s leading ceramic artists. She sold her artwork from a small gallery in Haight-Ashbury and had made a name for herself with her bold designs, inspired by the sea. But her creativity had been stifled over the past few months, and as for finishing her commissions, Kaitlyn was struggling.
One thing at a time…
Rachel made jewelry. She was good at it, but not overly successful when it came to business. She had a store in town, where she sold her work, along with greetings cards and novelty bits and pieces. After college, she and Sean had returned to Cedarhurst, where Sean had gone into business with his father at De Lance’s used cars and automobile parts. The engagement had come as a surprise, given that it had been so long since high school without them tying the knot. Rachel’s grandmother, though, thought it improper for the couple to have a baby without a wedding ring. Rachel had told Kaitlyn the baby news at the same time she’d announced the engagement, and it had felt to Kaitlyn as though her best friend was vastly ahead of her in the game of life. She and Sean had just bought their first house, and all she talked about was the wedding and the baby.
Rachel smiled and started talking as soon as Kaitlyn entered the jewelry store. “Boy, am I glad to see you. I can’t think straight. It must be the baby. Is that normal?” Rachel asked
Having never had a baby — or even known the possibility — Kaitlyn was at a loss. “It’s warm today,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
“It’s the guest list I’m thinking about. It’s a nightmare trying to work out who should sit next to whom,” Rachel replied, changing the subject as she had a habit of doing.
“Can I see?” Kaitlyn asked.
She didn’t know who was on the guest list, though the thought of arriving alone at the wedding wasn’t very appealing. She was thirty years old, and everyone she knew was “coupled up.” She’d be the odd one out, forced to make awkward excuses for herself, when really the answer was simple: she hadn’t found anyone yet. Though she hadn’t exactly been looking, either. Romance had eluded her, though her life in San Francisco was perfectly primed for it. She went to parties, socialized with friends, was outgoing in the familiar environment, and had a wide range of interests and a job that never failed to attract a degree of fascination.
“An artist? That’s wonderful,” people would say.
There’d been some interest, of course — the occasional date, even — but somehow, nothing had ever stuck.
“You’re too independent,” her mom had said, which Kaitlyn had taken to mean she had the unfortunate ability to scare men away.
Nevertheless, she lived in hope, telling herself romance would find a way at the most unexpected of times. It was just a matter of patience.
“So, what is it you want me to do, exactly?” she asked as Rachel thrust a list of names toward her, then unrolled a large sheet of paper with round circles drawn on it.
“We’re going to stick the names onto the tables, eight a piece, and work out who can sit with whom, and who can’t. For example, Sean’s great uncle Albert hasn’t talked to his aunt Leila for twenty years. They fell out over a lawnmower. I won’t bore you with the story,” Rachel said.
Kaitlyn was glad to hear it, though as to what use she could be, she was unsure. Scanning the list of names, she recognized only a few. That is, until her eyes fell on one in particular.
“Alex Lancaster?” she said, staring at the name in surprise.
“He only just RSVP’d. Well, his executive assistant did. I got a call from New York, some woman called Hilary. She said, ‘Mr. Lancaster is available to attend your wedding. I’ve scheduled him in.’ It was bizarre. He’s some big, important CEO now. We never hear from him. But I wanted to get everyone back together. You know how it is at weddings.”
Kaitlyn nodded. She should’ve expected it. There was no reason why Alex shouldn’t have been invited. But it would be strange to see him after all these years.
