Happy All the Time (25 page)

They sat down on the cold sand. Holly put her arm around Misty, who continued to weep. Then, abruptly, she stopped.

“I'm all right now,” she said.

“You certainly are not all right,” said Holly. “What on earth is going on?”

“Nothing,” said Misty. “Nothing except self-pity. Just a little spate of it.”

They sat on the sand in silence watching the gulls. Then Holly spoke.

“I know something's wrong and I'm sorry you won't talk to me. I've often wished you would talk to me. I always feel you like me out of accommodation to Guido and Vincent's friendship, but that if you had to pick, you wouldn't in fact like me one bit.”

“That's not true,” said Misty.

“I think it is,” said Holly. “For example, the other night at dinner I was in a panic. I was so embarrassed listening to that idiotic cousin of mine go on and on and on. I said to myself: ‘Lucky Misty. She has that adorable, smart cousin Stanley. I have a cousin who reflects badly on me.' I thought to myself: ‘Well, if Misty ever thought I was useless, she's sure of it now if that's what I'm related to.'”

Misty was startled. She had never heard Holly talk in this way. It rather alarmed her. She was used to the smooth, cool, unflappable Holly.

“And now,” Holly continued, “there's clearly something wrong and not a thing I can do to help.”

“If I tell you what it is, you'll laugh at me,” said Misty.

“Try me,” said Holly.

“I was jealous of Gem,” said Misty. “Violently jealous. I took one look at her and knew that she was all those girls Vincent ever fell in love with in one package. Sometimes I think Vincent married me only because he thought it would be good for him—that if he wanted to grow up, I was the sort of person he would marry, whereas left to his own devices, someone like Gem would have been his natural choice.”

“Isn't this extraordinary?” said Holly. “The things you find out about people you think you know. Jealous of Gem! Dear God, Gem is a smudge on a picture frame. Gem is a public annoyance. Look at the sort of people she runs around with. That John Perkins who speaks British Nautical World War Two slang. Gem isn't worth the leather on her boots. Gem! Gem isn't fit to kiss the hem of your blue jeans.”

“It doesn't matter,” said Misty. “Well, there you are. You think I don't like you and I'm jealous of the cousin you think isn't fit to kiss my hem.”

“And you think that Gem is out there flirting with Vincent?” said Holly.

“Yes.”

“And you think Vincent will flirt back?”

“Vincent always flirts. He flirts with Juliana.”

“As long as we're talking about this,” said Holly, “I'll tell you what I thought the first night I met you. You came to dinner, remember? I was frightened to death of you. This is a girl who can give Vincent a real run for it, I said. I was amazed that he was lucky enough and smart enough to fall in love with you. A few days later I had lunch with him. He probably never told you. Men don't have much emotional memory for that sort of thing. I know he wanted to know what I thought but he was too embarrassed to ask. So I told him.”

“What did you say?”

“I said that if he didn't marry you fast he'd be making the mistake of his life. I told him he ought to land you quick before you got away. I said: ‘Do you suppose Misty will ever approve of me?'”

“Approve of you?”

“I don't work,” said Holly. “I'm lazy. I don't do anything very important. I don't even know how intelligent I am. I just live day to day enjoying myself.”

“This makes me feel awful,” said Misty. “I was so grateful to you for my wedding breakfast I hardly knew what to say. I'm so mushy that to restrain myself, I never say anything. I'm pigheaded. I never give anyone a chance.”

“Now, now,” said Holly. “None of this self-criticism. I'm fairly impenetrable after all. At least, that's what Guido tells me. I'm sure it makes a lot of sense that we're the girls they married. They like coolness on the surface. There's nothing like a little propriety to keep people shaking hands is what I say. I'm awfully glad we aren't on that boat. Are you feeling better?”

“Much,” said Misty. “Much better. Thank you.”

“After I call home to check in on Juliana, let's go into town, have breakfast, and go shopping,” said Holly. “Then we can spend a few hours gossiping, or don't you approve?”

“I don't call it gossip,” said Misty. “I call it ‘emotional speculation.'”

They locked arms and walked down the beach toward the inn.

The boat came back in the early afternoon. Vincent was windblown and ruddy. John Perkins and Gem looked a little green. Guido was carrying a large striped bass.

“Vincent and I caught it,” said Guido. “What a struggle. This thing must weigh twelve pounds.”

“We've got to go,” said Gem. “Take me away, Deering. We're going to a dinner party tonight at the Maynards'.”

“Right-o,” said John Perkins. He and Gem got into his little red sports car and drove away.

“What a relief,” said Vincent. “Not only are they boring, but for a pair of seasoned sailors, they both looked sick and complained all day. Deering or whatever his name is says trawling always makes him dizzy.” He took a notebook from his pocket. “See, I do exactly as I'm told. He said ‘bloody good show, old man' three times. He said ‘heave to, old egg.' He said ‘rudder up, my girl.' Let's see, I can't read this. ‘Merry hell. Jolly decent. Damned white.' Is that good enough?”

“How awful for you two,” said Holly. “Now go clean the fish and then we'll meet in our room for dinner.”

Vincent and Misty had a conversation in the shower.

“I was jealous of Gem,” said Misty as she soaped Vincent's back.

“I know you were,” said Vincent. “I'm glad.”

“Glad?”

“I'm always jealous,” said Vincent. “I'm always afraid the Talmudic scholar of your dreams is coming to claim you with his fifteen degrees from French universities.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Well, it's true,” said Vincent. “So now you're jealous, although you might have done me the courtesy of picking someone a little more worthy to be jealous of.”

“Holly said you would be glad.”

“Did you and Holly spend the day talking about us?”

“Yes,” said Misty. “It was wonderful.”

“This sounds dangerous,” said Vincent. “But about your being jealous. How jealous were you?”

“Very.”

“Excellent,” said Vincent. “Well, I forgive you. Now you can kiss me and tell me how wonderful I am and how awful you would feel without me.”

They kissed under the spray, their soapy arms locked. Misty told Vincent how wonderful he was.

Holly had brought to Salt Harbor a wicker basket filled with four plates, four wineglasses, four place settings of good silver, and linen napkins. The Scott's Fisherman's Inn rented rooms with kitchens for those inclined to eat their catch. In town, Holly and Misty had bought lettuce, potatoes, and a Lady Baltimore cake.

Holly had not forgotten her homemade salad dressing. She had also brought four wooden candlesticks and four beeswax candles as well as a bottle of champagne.

“Perfect,” said Holly.

The sea air had given them huge appetites. They polished off dinner, but when the champagne ran out they were suddenly sad.

“Never fear,” said Vincent. “There's another bottle. It's in our room. I'll get it.” He dashed off and then reappeared with the bottle under his arm.

“I don't remember why I bought it,” said Vincent. “Did you tell me to, Misty? You didn't? Holly? Oh, well. Open this thing, Guido. I can't do it without a ginormous explosion.”

“Well, here we all are,” said Guido as he popped the cork. “Except for Juliana. We always end up sitting around a table drinking champagne.”

“I think it's very appropriate,” said Vincent.

“What are we going to drink to?” said Holly. “We always end up doing that too.”

“To friendship,” said Vincent.

They drank to that.

“Now what?” said Guido. “We have to drink to something else.”

“Okay,” said Misty. “Let's drink to a truly wonderful life.”

They raised their glasses and, by the light of the candles, they drank to a truly wonderful life.

A Biography of Laurie Colwin

Laurie Colwin (1944–1992) was an American novelist and short story author, most famous for her writings on cooking and upper-middle-class urban life.

Colwin was born on June 14 in Manhattan, New York, to Estelle and Peter Colwin. She spent her childhood in Lake Ronkonkoma, Long Island; Philadelphia; and Chicago. During her time in Philadelphia she attended Cheltenham High School and was inducted into its hall of fame in 1999. After graduation she continued her education at Bard College, the New School, and Columbia University.

In 1965 Colwin began her career working for Sanford J. Greenburger Associates, a literary agency in New York City. From there she went on to work at several leading book publishers, holding editorial positions at Viking Press, Pantheon Books, G.P. Putnam's Sons, and E. P. Dutton. Most notably during this time, Colwin worked closely with Isaac Bashevis Singer, winner of the 1978 Nobel Prize in Literature, editing and translating his works.

An aspiring writer all her life, Colwin sold her first short story to the
New Yorker
in 1969 at the age of twenty-five—an auspicious start. Over the course of the next few years, her work appeared in
Harper's Magazine
,
Allure
,
Redbook
,
Mademoiselle
, and
Playboy
. Many of these early stories were included in a collection,
Passion and Affect
, which was published in 1974.

Food and the act of cooking played an influential role in Colwin's life from early on. During the Columbia University campus uprisings of 1968, she famously cooked for student protestors occupying various buildings. “Someone put a piece of adhesive on the sleeve of my sweatshirt that read:
KITCHEN/COLWIN
,” she wrote in
Home Cooking
, published in 1988. “This, I feel, marked me for life.”

As Colwin began crafting her short stories, she also became a regular food columnist for
Gourmet
magazine, and many of her columns were anthologized in
Home Cooking
. The release of this work secured a fan base of up-and-coming casual gourmands who loved Colwin's unfussy, personal style and who remain devoted to her long after her death. Later in her life, even as she wrote about privileged Manhattanites, Colwin continued to volunteer and cook for homeless shelters in New York.

By the late seventies, Laurie Colwin was writing full time. Her first novel,
Shine On, Bright & Dangerous Object
, was published in 1975, and in 1977 Colwin received the prestigious O. Henry Award for short fiction. Her second novel,
Happy All the Time
, was received with much critical acclaim in 1978. By the time
The Lone Pilgrim
—a short story collection—and the novel
Family Happiness
were published in 1981 and 1982, respectively, Colwin had solidified her reputation as a writer to watch. She became known for her entertaining wit and wonderfully complex protagonists, whom readers understood immediately.

Colwin's story collection
Another Marvelous Thing
was published in 1986, and the next year, she was awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship. In 1990 she published
Goodbye Without Leaving
, the last novel that would go to press before her untimely death.

Laurie Colwin died of an aortic aneurysm in her Manhattan home on October 24, 1992, at the age of forty-eight. She was survived by her husband, Juris Jurjevics, a founder of Soho Press, and their daughter, Rosa.

In 1993
A Big Storm Knocked It Over
and
More Home Cooking
were published posthumously, serving as final invocations of Colwin's distinct voice and the New York characters she loved.

The author's parents, Estelle Colwin (née Wolfson) and Peter Colwin.