The Sixth Wedding by Elin Hilderbrand
Cooper
On Saturday, Cooper wakes up at noon. Noon! When is the last time he’s done that? College? High school? He’s an up-at-the-crack-of-dawn, seize-the-day kind of guy. A morning person. But when he finally unsticks his eyelids, he can’t deny he lacks any motivation to get up off the wide, comfortable sofa.
Except that he’s the host here.
Ever so gently he lifts his head from the cushion and gazes around the room. Nobody is in the cottage, though he hears voices on the beach. Coop swings his feet to the floor and stands up. He overdid it—drank too much, stayed out too late. Deep inside him, like a coin dropped in a well, rests a small sense of accomplishment: He closed the Chicken Box!
The person he would like to tell this to is Stacey.
He pours himself a giant glass of ice water and heads out to the beach where Jake, Leland, and Fray are enjoying the sun. Jake is in his trunks sitting in a chair with a book open on his chest; his hair is wet. Fray and Leland are lying side by side on a blanket. Leland is in a black tank suit and a straw hat and Fray is beside her. Something is funny about that. Cooper squints, it’s bright outside, and he goes inside for his sunglasses. When he comes back out, he sees that Fray and Leland’s legs are intertwined in a way that looks more than friendly.
“Hello, all,” Coop says, collapsing in an empty chair.
“How you feeling, old man?” Fray asks. Coop can see that Fray is also stroking Leland’s shoulder. Ohhhhkay.
Jake says, “Want me to make you an omelet? You must be starving.”
Coop feels queasy. “I think I’ll go for a swim first, then see if I can handle food.”
“So listen,” Fray says. “I booked a sunset sail on the Endeavor for Leland and me tonight and then I got the two of us a highly sought-after reservation at the Boarding House. I’ve heard their lobster spaghetti absolutely slaps. So I hope that’s cool with you…”
Sunset sail? Lobster spaghetti? What does that mean, it “slaps”? The “for Leland and me” part he understands; Fray and Leland want to go to dinner alone. Coop made a nine thirty reservation for the four of them at Nautilus, but who is he kidding? He’s not up for sitting down to dinner at nine thirty; he’ll fall asleep in his bao buns. He’ll cancel Nautilus. He and Jake can get a pizza and watch college football. He feels a bit bummed that they aren’t doing something all together, but he can’t ignore his relief. He has been set free of expectations.
Coop spends the afternoon waiting for the fog in his head to clear. The swim helps a little and the pillowy omelet that Jake serves him with two pieces of toasted Something Natural herb bread soaks up the beer and the shot of tequila he did the night before. (The tequila had been handed to him by a member of a bachelor party who called him “Pops.”)
He sits on the beach for a while but the sun makes his headache worse. Jake suggests hair of the dog—he’s drinking a Dark and Stormy—but Coop can’t think about alcohol.
Fray and Leland disappear inside and Coop says to Jake, “Did something happen between them?”
“They have a thing,” Jake deadpans. “A thing that refuses to die.”
“Since the mid-eighties,” Coop says. He lowers his voice. “I thought Leland liked women?”
Jake shrugs.
Jake dozes off in his chair and Coop heads inside to grab a Coke, thinking some caffeine might help. He sees Fray and Leland pop out of Mallory’s bedroom all dressed up. “Dressed up” for Fray is jeans and a white button-down shirt that looks like it could have been pulled off the rack at Sears but probably is by an Italian designer and costs eleven hundred dollars. Leland is wearing a fitted black dress; after only one afternoon in the sun, she’s tan.
“Have fun, kids,” Coop says. He is looking at Frazier Dooley and Leland Gladstone in 2023, but he’s also having a flashback to Fray and Leland standing up against the cinderblock wall outside the Calvert Hall boys’ locker room after one of Fray’s lacrosse games. Rumor around the school was that Leland gave him special “favors” if he scored a goal.
“Hey, you can sleep in Link’s room tonight,” Fray says. “I’ve been upgraded.”
Leland kisses Fray’s cheek. “Damn straight.”
Coop laughs and shakes his head. He loves them both. If they’re happy, he’s happy.
After they leave, Coop thinks maybe he will go into Link’s room and lie down—but he stops in front of the bookshelves, which hold not only Mallory’s impressive library but also a bunch of framed photographs. Many of them are of Link growing up and of Mallory and Link together, though there are also some wonderful photos of Mallory and Cooper as children, which Mallory must have taken when they cleared out the house on Deepdene Road after Senior and Kitty were killed.
There’s a shot of Cooper, Mallory, Senior, and Kitty taken during brunch in the Green Room at the Hotel DuPont in Wilmington, Delaware. The Blessings would always go the Saturday after Thanksgiving, because that was the first day the hotel was decorated for Christmas. Kitty used to go to the Green Room with her own parents, so the brunch tradition was very important to her. Coop recalls suffering through it his junior and senior years in high school following the epic Friday-after-Thanksgiving parties he used to attend. That’s definitely the case in this picture—Cooper’s eyes are bloodshot, his hair is uncombed and his tie crooked—but what makes him laugh out loud is Mallory in her kelly-green monogrammed sweater and kilt (a kilt!) and knee socks. She must be fourteen and she’s wearing knee socks.
Tears burn his eyes as he laughs. She was such a nerd! Before she had braces, she used to have buck teeth and Cooper would tease her relentlessly. He also teased her about her adoration of Rick Springfield, her addiction to General Hospital, and the stubborn cowlick in her hair that she would spend the moments before leaving for school fruitlessly trying to tame.
Coop knows that Mallory resented him growing up. Things came easily to him—good grades, sports, charming all the adults in his life so that he got pretty much whatever he wanted. Mallory was shyer, a bit socially awkward; she preferred to stay in her room, lounging on her fuzzy purple beanbag chair, reading. Oh, and she ate saltines with butter. Coop closes his eyes. He hasn’t thought of her saltine and butter addiction in decades.
He picks up another picture where Coop is maybe ten and Mallory eight. It’s Easter. Coop is in a navy blazer, Mallory in a pink dress and headband (buck teeth protruding from her smile). They’re standing in front of the fireplace at their grandparents’ house, holding baskets filled with candy. Coop can practically smell his grandfather’s pipe smoke. The next picture he picks up moves him even further back in time. Coop is maybe seven, Mallory five, and they’re wearing the lederhosen that their grandparents brought back from a trip to Munich. This picture is…serious blackmail material. They look ridiculous! Coop laughs until he cries and then he’s bawling like a baby because Mallory was his kid sister and he misses her. He sets the lederhosen picture next to a picture of his Aunt Greta and Uncle Bo, who were the original owners of this cottage. Cooper remembers when Mallory was “sent to Nantucket” for the summer as a kid; he thought she was being punished. Little did he know.
There are no pictures of Mallory with Jake, obviously, since their relationship was like a state secret, and no pictures of Mallory with any other men. Coop wonders then, as he often has, if there was somethingwrong with him and his sister. Mallory had a child but never married; Coop has been married five times but none of the unions lasted and he never had children. Was it random luck that things ended up that way or had they been defective somehow? Kitty and Senior, although they each had their faults, set a wonderful example. They were devoted and attentive and respectful of each other. Cooper Senior could be impenetrable emotionally but he had a soft spot for his wife. There had always been romance in the house—long-stemmed roses “just because” and evenings spent on the couch in front of the fire, Kitty lying with her head in Senior’s lap. Maybe they set an example that was too hard to live up to.
Cooper thinks of Dr. Robb’s point that he has suffered a lot of loss. It was all weighing on his shoulders now. He missed his family. He would give everything he owned to be back in the Green Room at the Hotel DuPont.
He’s overtired and growing very emotional. He needs a nap. Coop slinks into Link’s room and crashes facedown on the bed.
When Cooper wakes up, the sun is setting in a blaze of pink on the horizon. Link’s room, which has a window onto the beach, is suffused with rose-gold light.
Coop finds Jake in the living room drinking a beer in front of the Clemson–Ole Miss game.
“Hey,” Coop says. “Should we order a pizza?”
“There’s something I forgot to tell you earlier,” Jake says. “Do you remember that woman Brooke from last night?”
“Yeah?” Coop says. “The teacher who was friends with Apple?” He’s having a hard time coming up with Brooke’s face, though he recalls thinking she was pretty.
“I bumped into her this morning on my run,” Jake says. “She was walking her dog.”
“Wow, small island,” Coop says, then he wonders if maybe Jake found Brooke attractive too. That would be great. Jake needs to get back in the game after losing Mallory and splitting from Ursula. And it would be so fitting, him dating the woman who replaced Mallory. Or would it be weird?
“She gave me her number,” Jake says. “And she told me to tell you to call her.”
“Me?” Coop says, laughing. This is unexpected. Or is it—now that he thinks of it, he was dancing with her pretty exclusively.
“Do you remember that they invited us to that beach picnic tomorrow?”
“That’s right!” Coop says. He forgot about the beach picnic. But they were definitely invited. “Send me her number now. I’ll text her and find out what time.”
Coop marvels at how well Sunday’s schedule works out. At eight o’clock, Coop, Jake, and Fray play nine holes of golf at Miacomet while Leland bikes to a hot yoga class. They all meet back at the cottage for bagels and fruit salad and coffee (of course) and after a swim and a nap in the sun, they get ready for their respective afternoons. Fray and Leland are biking out to Sconset for a late lunch in the garden at the Chanticleer. Cooper and Jake put on polo shirts and swim trunks and drive out to a beach called Fortieth Pole, stopping at Cisco Brewery on the way for beer so they don’t show up empty-handed.
It’s been an A+ day so far—Coop shot a 45 in golf, he was sharp and clear-headed, and he loved hanging out with his two best friends for three hours. He feels even more excited about this picnic and the chance to reconnect with Brooke. They had a flirty text conversation the evening before. Brooke was making a blueberry pie to bring to the picnic and she would be wearing a blue bikini.
They drive the Jeep up over the soft sand road that cuts between the dunes until they come down onto a flat curve of beach.
“Jake!” a woman calls out. “Coop!” The woman is blond and wearing a blue bikini, so Coop figures it must be Brooke. She’s with a group of people camped off to the right. She shows them where to park and when Cooper climbs out of the Jeep, she throws her arms around his neck and gives him a big hug.
Okay?he thinks. When they separate, he studies her face. She’s pretty, smiling, and he does vaguely remember her from the other night. Vaguely.
Apple is at the picnic with her husband, Hugo, and their twin boys, Caleb and Lucas, who are going to be seniors at the high school, and a bunch of other people whose names Coop tries to retain but loses after ten seconds. He knows he doesn’t have to worry about Jake; the guy raises money for a living and can talk to anyone about anything.
Coop throws their case of beer into the tub of ice and cracks one open for him and one for Jake.
This is the life, he thinks. “Upside Down,” by Jack Johnson, is playing on the portable speaker, the grills are smoking, and there’s a table laden with food, including a blueberry pie with a lattice crust. Apple holds out a platter of oysters sitting in rapidly melting crushed ice.
“Hugo just shucked these,” she says. “Please, have one.”
“Then you two come play some bocce,” Hugo says. “Jake, you’re on my team.”
“No wonder my sister loved it here so much,” Coop says to Apple.
“You know something funny I remember about Mallory?” Apple says. “She never once came to our Labor Day picnic. She always claimed she was busy. Every year.”
“Oh, she was busy all right,” Coop says.
“Bocce,” Jake says.
Coop hopes that he will be as impressive at bocce as he was at golf that morning—but he’s the weak link, probably because he’s distracted by Brooke, who is waving her drink around, chanting his name, “Coo-per! Coo-per!” He wonders how much she’s had to drink and then reminds himself not to judge. She’s a teacher, this is her last full day of freedom, she’s allowed to be enthusiastic.
The tenth-grade history teacher whose name Cooper thinks is Nancy comes around with a tray of pink cocktails in plastic cups.
“Madaket Mysteries,” she says. “A Labor Day tradition.”
Coop tastes one—it’s strong and goes down way too easily. The Spanish teacher, Jill, comes by with Buffalo chicken dip and Fritos, and Cooper is a sucker for Fritos. Then the ribs and jumbo shrimp come off the grill. This is the best day he’s had in a long time—even though he loses, badly, at bocce.
“Want to go for a walk, handsome?” Brooke asks. She has pulled on a diaphanous white cover-up and she hands him another Madaket Mystery.
“Sure,” he says. He checks on Jake, who is deep in conversation with the biology teacher over by the deviled eggs. He catches Jake’s eye, waves, and points to Brooke.
They head down the beach, walking past kids building sandcastles and collecting shells and a teenager on a skim board who looks at Brooke and says, “What’s up, Ms. Schuster?”
Without missing a beat, she says, “See you Tuesday, Liam.”
“I love it,” Cooper says. “You see your students at the beach.”
“I see my students everywhere,” Brooke says. “It’s a small island.”
She then tells Coop her basic story: She’s forty-eight years old and has two kids, a son who’s a sophomore at UMass and a daughter who will be a senior at the high school, in the same class as Caleb and Lucas. She lives on the island year-round in a rental that she fears the owners will someday sell out from under her, but she doesn’t make enough on her teacher’s salary to buy her own home. “I always wondered how Mallory did it,” she says. “She was a single mom too, right?”
“She was,” Coop says. “She inherited the cottage from our aunt when we were in our twenties. It’s on the beach but it’s simple and pretty small. When my parents died, she had the money to finally renovate.”
“Well, sadly, I don’t have a rich aunt to leave me a beachfront cottage,” Brooke says. She goes on to tell Coop that all of her family is in New Hampshire, which was where she lived before she got divorced from the children’s father and decided she needed a change. She sighs. “So, what do you like to read?”
Coop scrambles for one of the titles on Mallory’s bookshelves, but he draws a blank. He was always the kid in English who skimmed the CliffsNotes five minutes before class. “I don’t read for pleasure because I do so much policy analysis at work.” This answer is lame and to distract Brooke, he reaches for her hand. It works—maybe too well. Brooke pulls him into the water. He manages to shuck off his shirt but she goes in with her cover-up still on, which strikes him as a bit odd. Brooke paddles out then turns to splash him right in the face and when he sputters, she says, “Oh, I’m sorry, baby,” and while Coop is thinking, Baby?—he hardly knows this woman, he wasn’t even sure it was her when they pulled onto the beach, and he never would have recognized her on the street—she swims into his arms and starts kissing him.
Whoa, he thinks. That was fast.
“We should probably get back,” he says.
She splashes him again, right in the face. “You’re no fun.”
As they’re walking back, she says, “So how do I convince you to move into your sister’s cottage and stay on Nantucket year-round?”
Coop laughs, even though he is now officially uncomfortable. “Hopefully in a few years when I retire, I’ll be able to spend more time here.”
“A few years?” Brooke says. “I’ll be off the market by then.”
At a loss for how to respond, Coop quickens his pace. He’s relieved when they get back to the party and Jake says, “Leland called, we have to go.”
“Did something happen?” Coop asks.
“She didn’t say. She just told me we were needed at home.”
Coop and Jake say their goodbyes and Coop gives Brooke a hug and a quick kiss goodbye. “I have your number,” he says. “And you have mine if you ever get to Washington.”
Brooke waves like crazy until the Jeep is up over the dunes.
“You like her?” Jake says.
“Perfectly nice woman,” Coop says. “And attractive. But we had exactly nothing in common and I’m not unhappy to be leaving.”
“That’s good to hear,” Jake says. “You two were gone so long I was afraid you’d proposed.”
As they head down the no-name road, Coop wonders if he should be concerned. Fray and Leland both seemed giddy about their reunion—but all Coop can think now is that they had an argument (this would be par for the course with them) and Fray lost his temper and is threatening to leave. It would be sort of like what happened thirty years ago.
But when they pull up to the cottage, Coop hears laughter and conversation coming from inside. He hears a woman who is not Leland. It sounds like…
Coop throws open the screen door and steps inside. Fray and Leland are sitting at the narrow harvest table with Stacey.
Stacey?
She stands up and smiles at him. She’s wearing a flowing white strapless dress and a pair of barely-there sandals. She’s every bit as captivating to Cooper as she was the first time he saw her in the basement of the Phi Gamma Delta house.
“Stace?” he says. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve had a change of heart,” she says. “So if your offer still stands…?”
Coop sweeps her off the ground. He grins at his friends. “I’m getting married!” he says.
“For the last time,” Stacey says.