The waiter put a plate of crudites in front of me and a basket of bread in front of Harold.

"Yeah, just think about it, never mind all the money you've probably already spent for this extravaganza. You'd lose all that too, you know. Nonrefundable deposits?"

"Never mind Molly's gown for ten thousand. Yeah, but then what? I gotta go through another divorce? Can I have a stick of celery?"

"Help yourself." I put the plate in front of him and took the bread, helping myself to a roll. "Look, Harold, I've been thinking about this all afternoon. The larger question is, Do you love Cornelia so much that you would jeopardize your relationship with your daughter for the rest of your life?"

"Good question. Good question. I don't know. I mean, but won't it be very weird whenever Molly and Shawn get together with us? What about the holidays and all that stuff?"

"Exactly! And when the babies start coming? Forget about it! Molly's gonna be sitting there staring at Cornelia, sending her daggers while Shawn's smirking his guts out. But I have to ask you, these are all sophisticated young people. Why can't they just put this unfortunate coincidence in the past? I mean, I couldn't do it, but young people today? Doesn't everyone have friends with benefits or something like that?"

"I don't know about friends and benefits. Anyway, it's just too nasty for Molly to accept, and it's very uncomfortable for Cornelia, and frankly, I don't like it either."

"Well then, my friend, you have your answer."

"Cornelia's got to go. Damn it. You want another martini?"

"Definitely." I looked around and made eye contact with Jose. We gave the nod and he understood. "Look, it's probably best for everyone involved, Harold. Let's be honest here; it's cheaper to dump Cornelia than to support Molly for the rest of her life if she doesn't marry the doctor!"

I didn't want to say I think Cornelia's leaving anyway. I had just wanted to prepare Harold with a little exercise in logic.

"You're right about that. I gotta get this divorce done and fast."

"I think my firm's got a suitable job for Cornelia in New York, if you're interested. Maybe even Hong Kong."

"Wes? That would save me. Getting her out of town would be the best thing. You're right. I can't ask my child to sacrifice the only man she ever loved. It isn't right. Besides, I'm an old man."

"You're not an old man. Thanks, Jose." I took a sip of my second silver bullet. "Yeah, Cornelia could be a brand ambassador. She'll do all these public appearances-she's perfect for the job and she'll love it."

"You're a great friend, Wes."

"Hey, this is what friends are supposed to do for each other. Anyway, Harold, you and I both know, you can love more than one woman in this world."

"Yep. I'm living proof of that. And thank the good Lord for the generous supply. Still . . . it's not going to be pleasant to tell Cornelia."

We ordered dinner.

"Just let her down easy, my friend. Let her down easy. Say you're the shit. Tell her you take full responsibility."

"Don't worry. I've got the perfect excuse."

"What's that?"

"My willie died again. And now it's really dead."

"Aw, Jesus, man! What are you telling me?"

"I'm not kidding. Ever since I heard this about Cornelia and Shawn? It's as dead as a doornail."

"Take a pill."

"Can't. Blood pressure meds and all this other stuff I take? Makes my pulse race."

"Right." That was exactly what Cornelia had told me. "Look, there's this surgical procedure?"

"Yeah, yeah. The pump. I know all about it. I'm probably going to get it, but I have to get used to the idea. My doc said it's that or nothing, so I guess it's going to be the pump. But the thought of somebody cutting on my best friend? I don't know, Wes."

"I'll go to the hospital with you. Don't worry. They do this all the time. You'll be fine."

"You're the best, Wes. I don't care what anyone says."

"Thanks." I shook my head, smiling.

Jose put our lobster in front of us. It was huge. We looked up, and there stood Paolo. He had been standing there listening. He pulled out a chair and sat down with us.

"Well, it looks like we're all in the same boat."

"What do you mean?" I said.

"Lisette says she's done. She can't stand it anymore."

"Ah, Jeez! Jose?" Jose nodded. "One more."

"What happened?" Harold said. "You want some lobster? This thing is big enough for six people."

"Sure. It looks great. Oh, you know my girls, right? Suzanne and Alicia put all Lisette's dry cleaning in the washing machine with bleach and ruined, I don't know, a couple of thousand dollars' worth of clothes."

The waiter put another setup on the table and filled Paolo's water glass. Harold and I passed him pieces of lobster.

"Can we get some more butter and lemon here for Paolo?" I said to the waiter.

"And a glass of sauvignon blanc?" Paolo said.

Harold said, "That's terrible!"

"Man, those girls of yours are a couple of hellcats! What did you do?" I said.

"I gave Lisette the American Express card and told her to go replace everything. What else could I do?"

"No! I mean, what did you do to the girls?" I said.

"Doesn't she have her own card?" Harold said.

"Hell, no! What did I do to the girls? I told them I was very disappointed in them and made them apologize to Lisette. And I told them their mother would be deeply disappointed in them, which they didn't believe for one minute." He dipped some lobster into the warm butter and popped it in his mouth. "This is amazing!"

"Right? I haven't had lobster in ages. And Lisette is still steamed and the girls didn't mean a word of what they said, am I right?" I said.

"Correct," Paolo said. "It's a very sad day when a father can't discipline his girls, you know, make them feel bad for the terrible things they do. They have no remorse."

Then the lightbulb came on. With Lisette and Cornelia out of the picture, there was no longer any reason for Leslie to ever leave me! I knew then I could talk her into coming back. The wedding was just a couple of weeks away. I was going to romance her home.

"You're right. It's disgraceful. I don't know what's wrong with young people today," Harold said. "This is like the best dinner I've had in months!"

"You know, sometimes I think the girls do these things to honor their mother's memory."

"Tessa wouldn't have approved of this kind of foolishness," I said. "You know? We should do this more often."

"So true," Paolo said.

"So where's Lisette going to go?" Harold said.

"I don't know. I suggested we just get Suzanne and Alicia their own apartment, but Lisette's already out and staying with her old roommates. She says she doesn't feel safe sleeping under the same roof with my girls."

"Humph. Understandable, unless you're there all the time," Harold said. "So you heard about Cornelia?"

"Harold? I heard and I am stunned. My God, what next?"

"All of us-bachelors!" Harold said.

"Maybe you assholes are bachelors, but I'm going to get Leslie back. Watch me."

"So are you not going to act on Les's proposal?" Harold said.

"What proposal?" Paolo said.

"Wes will tell you later."

"Nope, I'm going to ignore it for now," I said. "But here's what I still don't understand?"

"What?" they said.

"Look at us! Three supersuccessful men in the prime of our lives, and we all just got dumped! What the hell did we do? Where did we go wrong?"

CHAPTER 23.

Lowcountry Les I packed my pretty little car (which left them all slack jawed) with some more clothes and small household items that meant nothing to anyone but me, said good-bye to my children and Holly once more, and began the long drive back to Charleston. Now that I had a car that could sync to a phone I could talk while driving, but for most of the trip there were no cell-phone towers nearby so it didn't really matter because I couldn't get a signal. When I reached the Columbia area, I had service galore, so I called Jonathan, and to my disappointment, my call went to voice mail. He was probably with a patient, so I left a message that I'd be in around four. "Let's have dinner!" I said and hoped he was free.

When I got back to Harlan's, he wasn't at home but, always considerate, he'd left a note to say he was out running errands and he'd meet up with me after five. Miss Jo or Miss JP, the dog with two names, met me with a wagging tail and lots of kisses. She was wearing a new monogrammed blue oxford cloth shirt. I'd bet anything that Harlan was too. It was so nice to have a happy dog to come home to, some ten pounds or so of happiness, eager to see you.

"Come on, sweetheart," I said. "I bet you'd like a breath of fresh air."

I let Miss Jo out through the French doors in the den to visit the garden and poured myself a glass of iced water. It was a hot and very humid day. I watched her prance around, sniffing every blade of grass. Even in deep summer Harlan's garden was still fragrant and beautiful. She scampered back inside and I closed the doors to keep the heat and bugs at bay.

The next project to tackle was to relocate my roll-on bag from the foyer up to my room to unpack. I began lugging it up the steps, wondering why I took so many heavy shoes from Atlanta when I knew the dastardly stairs were waiting for me at the end of my trip. Those priceless stairs I once adored were now mocking me with their steep pitch. Harlan seriously needed an elevator. We weren't getting any younger, and I decided right then and there that any house I bought in Charleston would have one or else the house would have to be all on one level. There was no sense in dropping dead from steps. I wasn't Rocky Balboa, for heaven's sake.

I couldn't help thinking over and over how terribly sad it was that my marriage was coming to an end. But it was. Everything on this earth had a life span. Wes and I had simply outlived the life span of our marriage. In fact, the time for it to groan to a close was long gone. It was so hard to walk away, especially because my future was so uncertain and I wasn't so young. The reality that I was actually planning my final act hit me again. I wasn't leaving Wes to run to Jonathan like Harold had flown to Cornelia. I was leaving Wes because I just couldn't live in that dead horse life for one more day. Worse than everything, I had a nagging going on in the back of my brain that I needed something larger than a dead horse to justify leaving. My personal unhappiness and deep feelings of unfulfillment didn't seem important enough. But wasn't that how women of my generation had been programmed? The good woman, the exemplary mother and wife put the needs, happiness, and dreams of everyone else before her own. We were at the disposal of our family around the clock throughout the year until we drew our last breath. Therein lay my guilt. I reminded myself to love myself more, especially now.

It was probable that for a long while or maybe for the rest of my life I would mourn the surrender of my house, and I knew it. In every corner there was a memory of something-the children, Christmas trees and turkeys, and all the birthday and cocktail parties we used to give. Dinners around our table, all the nights I snuggled up on the sofa with my children watching movies, sleepovers and Halloweens and Easter egg hunts. I was so proud of that old house that had sheltered us through everything life threw our way. It certainly wasn't the grandest home in Atlanta, but our fingerprints were on its every square inch. Maybe Wes would give it to Charlotte. If he did, maybe I'd will my yet-to-be-found house to Bertie. What I'd miss the most was seeing Charlotte and Holly practically every day. But as I've said before, the only chance Charlotte had of becoming a devoted mother would be if I wasn't so available to her. I really believed that with all my heart. It was too easy to put Holly in my care, and I had such a terrible time saying no.

And maybe I was feeling melancholy at the moment, but, weirdly, I felt like I'd even miss Wes. Not in the sense of how I'd miss a red-hot lover, someone who'd broken my heart, leaving me for a prettier girl. But Wes and I were friends in an odd way. At least I liked to think we were. And there had been some good years. I had already decided that if Wes got sick again, I'd go back to Atlanta and help him if he wanted me to. And I was going to walk into Molly's wedding by his side, sit with him, and be polite to him. There was no reason to steal one bit of thunder from Molly's special day. But the miser owed me a phone call to give me his decision on my offer. He had six days left, and I wasn't playing around on this. I couldn't or else things between us would revert back to how they had always been with Wes calling all the shots. That would force me to file for divorce.

I opened my suitcase to unpack but then decided to call Danette to catch up. I'd been so busy in Atlanta with the therapy marathon that I'd not had the time to touch base. I went to the kitchen for another cold drink and dialed her number.

"So what's new?" I asked.

"Do you have a seat belt on and an oxygen tank nearby?"

"No, why?"

"Well, girl? Set yerself down and get comfy cozy. You ain't gone beeee-lieve . . ."

When Danette used her supercharged teeny-tiny Southern town twang, I knew I was in for some juicy headlines.

She rolled out the story of Cornelia and Shawn. I was absolutely aghast. Then, after a minute or two of being properly horrified and blustering with indignation, we nearly died laughing.

"Holy hell! What did Harold do?" I said. "I can just see his face!"

"Molly said he threw a conniption fit with Cornelia the likes of which could light Atlanta in a blackout. I've never heard him go crazy like that, not in all our years. I didn't even know he had all that fury in him! Anyway, Molly was out of her mind with anger. It was awful for her, the poor thing."

"Do you blame her?"

"Of course not! But listen, here's what really frightened me. She was about an inch away from calling off the whole wedding. I sat her down and said, 'You listen to your mother. You and Shawn are perfect together. Don't let your daddy's whore ruin your life. Besides, this whole nasty business happened a long time ago, so get over it!' "

"Excellent advice. Tell her that her auntie Les said to take this story, put it in a box in her mental attic, and never open it again."

"You're right. Women have to forget a whole lot of things if they want to stay married, and not just from husbands. There are about a thousand boxes in my attic. Anyway, the latest poop is that Cornelia has moved out."

"Well, that's probably the first noble thing she's ever done in her worthless life, bless her heart."

"Amen. I mean, we're as modern a family as there ever was . . ."

"Come on. Really?"

"Okay, we're not so modern. Truth? Once that dreadful cat was out of the bag, it was just way too awkward for my blood."

"I completely agree. And the good news is that you don't have to look at her at Molly's wedding."

"Thank heavens! In her miserable size two dress."

"Girl? Speaking of? You haven't even told me what you're wearing!"