Page 98 of 28 Summers
“They were?” Marnie says. “Mr. Blessing has never mentioned that.”
“Well, I wouldn’t lie,” Ursula says. Her tone is peevish, which will only reinforce her reputation as being somewhat bitchy (maybe more thansomewhat;maybe she’s a bona fide insufferable bitch, which is why her husband has been cheating on her for more than twenty years). “They were in Phi Gamma Delta, Fiji. Jake was Cooper’s big brother.”
Marnie sighs. “He does talk about Fiji,” she says. “But I still can’t help you. Mr. Blessing is on his honeymoon this week.”
“Honeymoon?” Ursula says.Anotherhoneymoon? “Well, good for him. I hope they went someplace nice.”
“St. Mike’s,” Marnie says. “Should I tell him you called? Or—”
“Might you give me his cell number?” Ursula asks. “It’s a rather urgent personal matter.”
“I’m sorry,” Marnie says. “I can’t do that.”
Ursula appreciates Marnie’s discretion even though she’s desperate to talk to Coop. “Yes, please, then,” she says. “Tell him I called.” Ursula hangs up. What next? Somewhere she used to have the number of the cottage on Nantucket. She could call and see who answers. If Mallory answers, Ursula will…what? Ask her if she’s been conducting an affair with Jake for the past twenty years?
Ursula decides to give it a shot. What choice does she have? The number isn’t in either of her phones so she Googles the white pages and punches inMallory Blessing, Nantucket, Massachusetts—but there’s no listing.
Of course there’s no listing. It’s 2015. Everyone got rid of landlines ten years ago.
Another honeymoon. On St. Mike’s—St. Michael’s, on the eastern shore of Maryland. There’s only one place that anyone would honeymoon on St. Mike’s, right? The Inn at Perry Cabin.
The woman who answers at the reception desk sounds young and bubbly, which is a good sign. “Good morning, the Inn at Perry Cabin, how may I direct your call?”
“Yes, good morning, this is Senator Ursula de Gournsey.” Ursula pauses.Please let this young woman follow politics.“I’m trying to reach Cooper Blessing. I believe he’s there on his honeymoon?”
“Good morning, Senator! Yes, he is. I’ll just need you to provide his room number so I can connect you.”
“I don’t have the room number,” Ursula says. “I didn’t anticipate having to call him this week but something urgent has come up. If I leave a message, will you please make sure he sees it right away?”
The desk clerk says, “Ohhhhmmmmm.” She pauses. “I suppose I can just put you through. Please hold, Senator.”
The phone starts to ring and Ursula wonders how she became a woman who would interrupt someone’s honeymoon to ask about her own husband’s possible infidelity. She should hang up! But she can’t. She needs to know.
A groggy Cooper answers the phone. “Hello?”
She’s woken him. Of course she’s woken him; it’s just after nine in the morning. She tries not to picture Cooper naked and hungover beneath the inn’s featherlight comforter, lying next to whatever poor woman has just become the fourth—fifth?—Mrs. Cooper Blessing.
“Cooper?” Ursula says. She sounds unhinged. Sheisunhinged. “It’s Ursula de Gournsey, good morning.”
She hears a rustling noise that she can only imagine is Cooper sitting up in bed, wondering what the hell is going on. “Good morning?” Cooper says. “Ursula…is everything okay? It’s not Jake, is it?” His voice breaks a little. He must think Jake is dead or injured or terminally ill, and now Ursula feels even worse. The last time she saw Cooper was at his parents’ funeral.
“Jake is fine,” she says quickly. “He and Bess are out to breakfast. They’re both just fine.” She inhales the breeze blowing in off the lake. The lake is so big, it creates its own horizon; she’s pretty sure that people who grew up on the coasts have no idea just how vast the Great Lakes are. “I’m calling to ask about your weekends with Jake on Nantucket.”
A beat passes. Cooper clears his throat. “Ursula,” he says.
“You and Jake go to Nantucket every year over Labor Day,” Ursula says. “Right?”
Another beat passes. Ursula hears a voice, female, the new wife, justifiably wanting to know who is calling their hotel room at nine in the morning during their honeymoon and making Cooper squirm. Ursula may end up being the reason for Cooper’s next divorce.
“Ursula de Gournsey,” Cooper whispers. “I’ll just be a minute.” And then he clears his throat and says, “Sorry about that, Ursula.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry,” Ursula says. “Sorry for inserting myself into your life at what I’m sure is the least convenient moment. But something came to my attention just now. I was reading this…blog…and it dawned on me that maybe you and Jakehaven’tbeen going to Nantucket together all these years. Maybe he’s…been going alone? Or with someone else? I don’t need any proof from you; you don’t need to send me pictures or share any stories. I’ll take you at your word.” Ursula feels her coffee about to repeat on her. If Cooper says hehasn’tbeen going to Nantucket, then an awful, stinking possibility will be exposed and they’ll both have to acknowledge it. “Has it been you that Jake spends Labor Day weekend with up on Nantucket?”
Half a beat, maybe not even. “Yes,” Cooper says. “Yes, of course, Ursula.”
Of course. Ursula closes her eyes. Would Coop lie to her? The answer, she can only assume, is yes. Cooper has a questionable track record with women; that much is irrefutable. Maybe he lies to his wives. Maybe he’s pathological. The other person he might be covering for is…his sister, Mallory. Mallory Blessing is pretty, yes. She’s a simple, clean kind of pretty. Girl-next-door pretty. She isn’t glamorous, isn’t powerful, isn’t a siren. She isn’t anything like Ursula. There is no way Mallory Blessing has enough allure to reel Jake all the way back to Nantucket year after year after year. Ursula is paranoid; deranged, even—and she has just shown her hand to Cooper.
“Great, Coop, thank you so much!” Ursula says. She makes her voice as bright and cheerful as she can so there’s no doubt in Cooper’s mind that she’s a complete sociopath.
